Christmas Eve

Luke 2:1-20

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

Did anyone else go stargazing on Monday night?

Monday marked the winter solstice, the longest night of the year, and for the first time in nearly 400 years, the planets Saturn and Jupiter could be seen so close together in the sky that they almost appeared to be one star. At my house, we took binoculars and caught a glimpse of them before they sank into the horizon. This rare event is called a “great conjunction” and comparisons were made between it and the Christmas star that appears in the story of the magi that is in Matthew’s gospel.

Luke’s telling of the Nativity story doesn’t include the magi following the Bethlehem star; instead, we meet the shepherds who first hear about the birth of the Messiah from the angel of the Lord. They seek out the newborn child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger and then tell his mother Mary all that they had heard. And then Luke says, “Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.”

The Greek translated as “pondering” is a word that means “thrown together.” All these words that have been said to Mary are thrown together in her heart:

The angel Gabriel’s proclamation that she had had found favor with God

The announcement that she would bear the Son of the Most High who would be called the Son of God

The declaration that her son would reign over the house of Jacob forever and have a kingdom with no end.

And now, the revelation by these outsiders that the infant she has born is the Messiah, the Lord of all.

Mary didn’t dreamily or sigh in wonder. She pondered.

She took in all these things thrown together at her. Maybe she scratched her head, trying to puzzle out why she was chosen. Maybe, she ran her fingers through her hair like I do when I’m trying to understand something new. Maybe she shed tears at the enormity of it all. Or even argued with God.

And still, she treasured this Christmas miracle, the birth of the infant Jesus, the God coming into the world as a helpless infant, fully human and fully divine, to show us how much God loves us all.

I think as Christmas comes this year, Mary invites us to ponder all that has been thrown together in 2020. Let out a frustrated scream, shed a tear or two, and maybe even argue with God. God is big enough to hear us cry out; strong enough to wrestle with us; and steadfast enough to wait for us.

The second part of Mary’s invitation is to treasure the Christmas miracle that God gives each one of us, the revelation that God is born tonight for us, no matter what this year has held. Tonight our newborn hope is found in the birth of our Savior and Lord.

Amen.

Fourth Sunday of Advent

2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16

Wish lists and grocery lists, checking off chores – do you know where you stashed the gifts you bought, is the angel on the tree, is the bathroom clean? Even a favorite carol has St. Nicholas checking his list twice.

The days leading up to Christmas can be full of busy-ness - some sacred, some festive and some more mundane. And it’s in the midst of this busy-ness on this Fourth Sunday of Advent that we meet Nathan and David in today’s reading from Second Samuel. 

Chapter 7 begins saying that the Lord had given David rest from his enemies. And it sounds like David is about as good at resting and stillness as many of us today. Instead of taking time for prayer to wait to hear what God might say, or for stillness where he might experience God’s presence with him, David starts thinking.

And instead of enjoying the respite from strife in his family, court and kingdom, he decides he will build a house to the Lord, a temple, a permanent dwelling place to replace the tent that had housed the Ark of God since the Israelites had fled Egypt.

And the prophet Nathan, whom we meet here for the first time, encourages him, telling David, “The Lord is with you.”

But then we hear, 4 “…that same night the word of the Lord came to Nathan….”

And the Lord tells Nathan to tell David that building a temple is not his work to do.

It’s not a bad idea; in fact, it’s good and important work, but it will be done by someone else.

It can be fun thinking up ideas - in seminary we called them “big hairy audacious goals” or BHAGs - and jumping in with both feet.

During this pandemic, as colleagues have shared resources and ideas for forming faith digitally and leading worship creatively, it’s been tempting to think about virtual choirs and Christmas pageants, drive through Nativities and Advent boxes for worship-at-home. It has felt sometimes like it was especially important to make Christmas even more memorable or special because of all the loss and upheaval we have experienced this year. And I have had to catch myself and remember that as your pastor, I cannot bring you Christmas.

As Dr. Seuss’ Grinch Who Stole Christmas learned, Christmas will come without ribbons and bows, packages, boxes or bags.

It will come because God so loves the world and sends us Jesus, the infant Son of God, from the house of David, who is born under a star.

In this story in Second Samuel, David teaches us two important lessons:

The first lesson is that God actually creates moments of rest and respite for us, if we only will take them.

Psalm 37 says, “Be still before the Lord and wait patiently…do not fret,” and psalm 46 says, “Be still and know that I am God.” God creates these spaces for our good, but we’ve conditioned ourselves to think we are being lazy if we take time to spend time in stillness.

Our lectionary reading ends before we hear how David responds to Nathan, but if you keep reading in Second Samuel, you’ll see that he doesn’t get angry or argue with the prophet. He doesn’t become indignant. Instead, he responds by sitting before the Lord and entering into prayer, declaring who he knows God to be and proclaiming God’s greatness.  

The second lesson we learn from David is that the work to honor God, to set apart places and times for what is sacred and holy, is not our work alone.

When I’ve got big ideas, or long and varied lists, or find myself trying to move mountains to make something happen, it’s a good idea to check in with God to see whether my ideas reflect what God wants, or reveal, in fact,  that the work is better suited to another person or time and place.

It doesn’t mean that the work isn’t good or important, only that someone else may be called to it.

David’s story reassures us that God is inviting us to rest in God’s presence and to listen for God’s leading, and not try so very hard to solve the world’s problems on our own. Those are comforting words in these busy days leading up to Christmas and my prayer is that you will find the rest and assurance that God offers.

Amen.

Third Sunday of Advent

Isaiah 61:1-4,8-11 

Did Isaiah’s words sound familiar when you hear them today? Jesus uses these words as his topic sentence for his first public sermon in Luke Chapter 4. There he is speaking to the assembly in the synagogue and when he finishes, the people try to throw him off a cliff.

His words were good news to the ones named in these verses – the oppressed, the brokenhearted, the captives and prisoners and those who are mourning. But they meant that things would not be the same. People would not be able to do the things they have always done. In Jesus, God was breaking into the world, turning things upside down and doing something new.

When Isaiah speaks these words for the first time, in Third Isaiah, he wants the people to know that whatever they are facing – unfairness, sorrow, grief, or the loss of freedom – their suffering has not gone unnoticed. The Lord has anointed him and sent him to initiate a new beginning for God’s people.

When we have faced defeat or are suffering or grieving, and we are laid low, it can be difficult to expect anything good, to recognize kindness or find hope.

But into the uncertainty that surrounds God’s people upon their return from exile, the prophet speaks, promising to clothe them, replacing their ashes with garland, their mourning with the oil of gladness and their faint spirits with a mantle of praise.

This is God’s merciful and redeeming action for them; not the result of anything they have done or said.

The prophet then says,

3b [The people] will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, to display his glory. 4 They shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations.” (Isaiah 61:3-4)

Isaiah was no longer calling the people grass that would wither or flowers that would fade. (Isaiah 40:7) Now they were to be oaks, mighty trees that endure centuries and withstand hurricanes, tornados, and droughts. Mighty trees that began small, insignificant and easily overlooked, as acorns.

As we hear these verses today, hopefully we can place ourselves in the text, and hear the prophet’s charge to us as God’s people. We are to stand strong and visible, as witnesses to God’s activity in the world. Our beginnings may be humble, but God is the one leading us and strengthening us.

The prophet continues to say that God’s people will be the ones who

shall build up the ancient ruins, …raise up the former devastations; …[and] repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations. (Isaiah 61:4)

The prophet isn’t the one who will pour sweat and tears into this work of restoration and renewal. It’s God’s own people who are being called.

One of the observations that has been made about this year and the pandemic is that the fissures or cracks in our systems and safety nets, our healthcare and even our economy have been exposed. It’s not that the problems we are facing originated in the last nine months, but that our vulnerabilities were unmasked.

And when the pandemic ends, we aren’t going to be able to do the things we have always done.

As Jesus’ followers, we must go into places of ruin, bear witness to God’s presence, and walk alongside people who have been hurt by the church and world, and listen to the devastation in their lives.

For us today the verbs Isaiah uses aren’t about bricks and mortar; they are about people, the very brothers and sisters who are our neighbors. Redeemed by God, we are called to build up God’s people, raise up faithful disciples and repair broken relationships.

And when any one of us feels overwhelmed by that work – because it is hard work – may we remember that the mighty trees we are called to emulate survive because they have a sprawling root system that goes deep into the ground, and when they grow in dry places, the roots grow even more deeply. Those roots are anchors, securing the trees to the ground and they are lifelines, sending up new sprouts when the tree is damaged and storing what they need to grow and endure.

In the same way, our relationships with God and with one another keep us connected in a system where we will find encouragement and strength to weather whatever comes our way.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for sending your Son Jesus into the world to bring light into darkness and hope to the weary.

Thank you for your mercy and grace that is unmerited and unearned, but ours all the same.

Nourish us in our congregation with Your Word,

and by Your spirit strengthen us to be witnesses

to your presence in the world and messengers of the good news of Your love.

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

Amen.

Second Sunday of Advent

Isaiah 40:1-11

Sometimes we read the Bible continuously, neatly following the passages as one leads to the next. But the lectionary readings during Advent aren’t so orderly. Today’s reading from Isaiah and the Gospel reading from Mark both go backward from where we were a week ago.

You may remember that last week’s Old Testament reading was in Third Isaiah, the section written after the Israelites were allowed to return from exile to Jerusalem.

First Isaiah is the first 39 chapters of the book that address Judah in its stubbornness and failure to follow God; that section ends with an oracle in Chapter 39 that anticipates the exile into Babylon.

This week’s verses in Chapter 40 are the poetic opening of Second Isaiah. It’s thought that as much as 150 years passed between First and Second Isaiah  ̶ 150 years of living in exile, of dislocation and disruption, disconnected from God’s presence and voice.

Our reading begins with God speaking, breaking into the emptiness of exile and speaking hope to God’s people. Scholars say the prophet is listening to God address a “divine council” or heavenly assembly of angels and messengers.[i]

It’s easy to miss in our translation, but the passage actually has multiple voices. In the first two verses, God is commanding that God’s people be comforted, effectively saying, “Enough is enough and your suffering is ended.” [ii]

Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, her penalty is paid... (Isaiah 40:1-2)

This is good news for the Israelites who had spent the exile
looking backward to the Exodus, the time in which God had freed his people from oppression,
and looking forward with uncertainty, waiting for God to again act decisively for God’s people.

And then another voice breaks into the discourse and the third verse is the one Mark uses to announce John the Baptizer in today’s gospel.

3 A voice cries out:

“In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

God promises there will be a public return, demonstrating God’s triumphant victory over Babylon.

When a third voice joins in asking, “What shall I cry?”, scholars say it is the prophet himself. He protests that after such a prolonged separation, the people are more comfortable with God’s absence than God’s presence. And they have proven themselves unreliable. What can he say to change their hearts and minds?[iii]

And then like last week’s mighty “Yet” we hear one of the council voices saying,

“Yes, but the word of God will stand forever.

Yes, the people have been fickle. Yes, they have turned away from God. But God is God and God’s grace for us is not dependent upon any human effort or merit. It is always God’s saving action for us.

And then the council voice speaks again, calling Isaiah the herald of good tidings, the bearer of the Good News that God is decisively present, here with God’s people, and “the world is changed by God.”[iv]

As God’s messengers, we too are called to be the herald of good tidings, the Good News, in today’s world.

I wonder, what message comes to you if you read this passage with the name of our congregation and community in place of Zion and Jerusalem and Judah?

Lift up your voice with strength, Ascension Lutheran, herald of good tidings. There is good news for the city of Shelby. Shout it as loud as you can from the highest mountain. Don't be afraid to shout to all of Cleveland County, 
“Your God is here!”

Especially in Advent, we are called to proclaim the Good News of God’s presence and mercy to our community with joy:[v] 

The Good News that, as long as the nine months of the pandemic have been, they have not been an exile from God’s presence.  God is with us.

The Good News that God comforts God’s people, recognizes our suffering, and does not leave us alone.

The Good News that God is both a warrior for God’s people who conquers God’s enemies, and a gentle, shepherding God who cares for the vulnerable and shows mercy to those in need.

The Good News that the long-expected Jesus is coming into the world, delivering us from evil, freeing us from our fears and sins and giving us hope and peace.

Thanks be to God for the Good News.
Amen.

[i] Walter Brueggemann, Isaiah Chapters 40-66. 15-17.

[ii] Brueggemann, 18.

[iii] Brueggemann, 19.

[iv] Brueggemann, 21.

[v] “Light on the Lessons”. Lutheran Bible Ministries. © 2011. Used with permission.