Christmas Day

Jesus: God's Anti-Whatever
John 1:1-14

Christmas just happens to come towards the end of the calendar year.

One of the many things that gets pondered and listed at the end of the year is words.  Different organizations, especially those that publish dictionaries, pick a most significant word for the past year.  For 2016 Miriam Webster picked “surreal.”  The publishers of the Oxford Dictionary picked “post-truth.”  The Cambridge Dictionary picked “paranoid.”  Dictionary.com picked “xenophobia.”  The current times are not by any measure the worst of times, but especially if you look throughout the world these are certainly unsettled times.  Many people are feeling fear and confusion.

There’s another word that has gotten some year-end attention.  In a poll by the Marist Institute of Public Opinion, for the eighth year in a row, one word has qualified as the most annoying word:  “whatever.”

Whatever.  It is annoying.  Although I expect, it’s as much the tone it’s usually said in as it is the word itself.  It connotes total, even scornful indifference.  Whatever.  I’m indifferent to you, to what you just said, to any choice or decision.  I don’t care.

It was the Christmas Day Gospel, of course, that got me thinking about words.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…. And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.

Jesus is the word God says to us.  This year.  Every year.  Every day. 

This may seem an odd Christmas message, but:  God never says whatever.  Jesus is God’s anti-whatever.

The birth of Jesus, the incarnation, express the total opposite of whatever.  God is never indifferent towards us.  Jesus expresses the depth and persistence of God’s caring and compassion.

John tells us that Jesus, the Word, is full of grace and truth.

Grace is one of those words that most of us probably generally understand but would be very hard pressed to actually define.  The catechism in the Book of Common Prayer defines grace: Grace is God's favor toward us, unearned and undeserved; by grace God forgives our sins, enlightens our minds, stirs our hearts, and strengthens our wills.

God’s favor towards us, expressed and active.

We matter to God.  God could have said to human kind:  oh whatever, let them suffer and muddle through life on their own.  But instead he loves us beyond measure and shows that love by coming among us.  To share our lives so that we may share his. To help us know him and find him in an uncertain world.  He came into this world because we matter to him.  And how we live matters.  God yearns for us to know the blessing and peace of his presence, to experience holiness. 

So remember:  even in the most hip of modern Bible translations, Jesus never says, whatever.  To anyone.

He says, grace and peace be with you.  In his ministry and in his words, to each of us he says, grace and peace be with you.  You are God’s own beloved.  I come to bring you grace and truth and peace.

Christmas Eve

Like the Angels
Luke 2:1-14

In an effort to hear the Christmas story anew, over the years I’ve pondered what we have in common with different characters in the Christmas story: the shepherds, the wise men, the stable boy (he must have been there!).  And I’ve explored what we can learn today by thinking about their place in the Christmas story.

This year at the early Christmas Eve service we did the “pageant” a bit differently…  Young people from the parish read reflections written in the voices of those who were there.  Gabriel, preparing to visit Mary; Mary, after Gabriel left; Joseph; a nosey neighbor of Mary and Joseph’s; a very evil, slimy Herod.

Interestingly, the angel who appears to the shepherds and the angels of the heavenly host aren’t in the book we used.

We just heard that part of the story from Luke:  Then an angel of the Lord stood before [the shepherds], and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for see—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 Saviour, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.’ And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,

‘Glory to God in the highest heaven,
   and on earth peace among those whom he favours!’

This year I’m thinking that maybe the characters we’re really most like in this story are the angels.  Your first thought may be, no.  We could hardly be more different.  I don’t feel the least angelic most of the time!  And angels aren’t even human, are they?

But there is one very, very, very important similarity between the angels and us.  They knew the story.  They knew what was happening.  Nobody else did, really, not yet.  But the angels knew who this baby was and what this birth meant.

And so do we.

We know who this child is and what he brings.  We come to this night, this time, this birth, knowing who this child is and what he brings.

He is our Savior.  Come to save us from ourselves.

He is born to make God’s love and healing and peace real in our lives.  So real that we can touch it and feel it and hear it.  He is God come so close that we can hold him to our hearts like we might cradle a newborn child.

Later in Luke, Jesus himself will quote Isaiah: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free.”

The angels knew who this baby was and what he was bringing into the world.

And we know, too.

So maybe we should look to the angels as models for our actions at Christmas time.  Let’s be like the angels.  Let’s do what the angels do.

They praise God.  That’s pretty much what angels do most of the time.  Praise God.

Let’s proclaim God’s peace to the world.  Do our best to dwell in peace, to bring peace on earth.

Angels fly.  Maybe we can’t literally fly but at least we can let our hearts soar with hope at the birth of this baby.

And then praise God some more.  Sing out these tidings of great joy for all people.

And everywhere we go, let us, like the angels say, “Fear not.”  God is with us.  We are the bearers of the angel’s message to a world today that desperately needs it. Fear not.  God is with us.

The Second Sunday after Christmas - January 4

They Went Home
Matthew 2:1-12

I know you all are counting. Today is the 11th day of Christmas. We don’t always get two Sundays during Christmas season, but we do this year. The Gospel reading we heard today is Matthew’s version of the nativity story. We don’t hear it as often in church. Luke’s nativity story is appointed on Christmas Eve. You’ll notice there are no angles or shepherds in Matthew. (And no magi in Luke). No nativity in Mark or John. The general nativity story that is familiar to most of us is a conflation of Matthew and Luke.

There’s one line in today’s Gospel that I want to focus on. "They left for their country by another road." I think other translations say “They went home.” They went home by another road to avoid Herod. But they went home. They worshipped; they offered gifts. And then they went home.

Interestingly, Luke also tells us that the shepherds went home. “The shepherds returned [to their flocks], glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen…” They went home.

You would think that the shepherds and magi would have wanted to stay, to linger at the manger. But both Gospels are clear. The shepherds and the magi went home. They saw Jesus; they worshiped; they went home.

I can think of three reasons why they might have headed on home.

1. They had things to do. Kingdoms to run. Sheep to tend to. Obligations to fulfill. They returned to those tasks and obligations of their lives, but they returned to them transformed by what they had seen in the manger. 
2. They went home eager to share the story with others. Luke tells us that the shepherds returned glorifying God. 
3. They went home to work on their faith. To nurture the seed that had been planted in their souls in Bethlehem. 

We are like the shepherds and the magi. We come here. Every week or almost every week. We come here to meet Jesus. We meet Jesus at the manger, at his table. We meet Jesus in the faces and lives of one another and in the words of the Bible. We encounter Jesus here. And then we go home.

1. We go home to the tasks and obligations of our lives. But we go home to life those lives as Christians, formed by the one we encounter here. 
2. We go home to spread the Good News with other people we know who are “out there” in the world. 
3. And we go to work on our faith at home. 

You’ve undoubtedly heard about the first two of those before. We could all do better, but we do think about being Monday through Saturday Christians and about being evangelists.

But what about that third reason to leave here and go home? To go home to work on our faith…

I recently came across a blog post by Kyle Oliver, who’s on the staff at Virginia Seminary. It’s called “A Resolve [it’s that time of year!] to Practice Faith at Home.” He writes (You can read it HERE):

Studies have shown that the most significant factor among those that help faith “stick” in adolescents and persist into adulthood is what researchers call “family religiosity”: talking about faith, participating in household devotions, serving those in need as a family. In other words, faith is formed, or not, in the home—more so than in church, it turns out. And adults benefit from family religiosity too, both of their family of origin and their faith at home practice as adults—even single adults.

Faith that “sticks” is nurtured and grown AT HOME.

Talking about faith at home. Personal and family devotions. Doing ministry as a family. He asks these questions to help prod us towards resolutions that might help build and nurture a faith that sticks:

• What new or additional ritual might help faith stick a bit more for us? 
• What practice with friends and loved ones could regularly gather us around the light of Christ?
• What rite of passage or other life transition might provide an occasion to give thanks for God’s many blessings or even to share with God that we’re ready for better? 

Faith that sticks is formed at home.

So after our time together here with Jesus, go home. Go home to build and nurture your faith.

Christmas Day

The Historic Succession of Messengers
Isaiah 52:7-10
John 1:1-14

How did you find your way to this place this morning? How did you know how to get here? How did you know the way to the manger?

The magi had the star to lead them. It stopped right over the manger. The angels joyfully told the shepherds where to go to find the manger where their savior was born. How did you find your way to the manger?

Somebody told you. Somebody told you the Christmas story. Somebody told you the Christmas story in a way that you just couldn’t resist wanting to see it and be a part of it yourself.

As you may know Episcopalians cherish the apostolic succession by which we really mean the historic episcopate. It’s the theory that there is a direct ordination succession going back to Peter. Bishops have laid on hands on bishops at their ordination in an unbroken line that goes back from the present day all the way to Peter. And we perceive some sort of power or meaning in that connection.

But today it seems much more important to me to think about what we might call the historic succession of messengers. The reading from Isaiah has that wonderful description of the messenger who brings glad tidings. How beautiful are the feet of those who share the story. I like to think of the historic succession of messengers who have shared the story. Stretching from today all the way back to the manger.

So all of this now comes entirely out of my imagination. Who might some of those first messengers have been? I imagine that some of those shepherds who were there went back home and with wonder and awe told their wives what they had experienced. And the wives shared the story when they came together to draw water or for other community events. And the wonder spread from messenger to messenger.

Or maybe there was a stable boy there. He would have only been a few years older than Jesus. And he couldn’t forget something of what he had seen in that baby in the manger. So he kept track of Jesus as Jesus grew older. And he told his best friend.

Or the magi, who went home by another road so they would not have to tell the story to Herod. Maybe one of the magi was telling of the holy king he had seen and his gardener overheard him. And the gardener’s lord told the story with such simple but powerful conviction that the gardener sold what little he had and traveled to Judea and became a disciple…

Or maybe there was a neighboring magus who had been invited on the original journey but hadn’t gone… he just had too much on his plate at the time. But when he heard about what they had found he regretted missing out and he traveled to Bethlehem to see for himself and then brought the story back to his own people and his own land.

Somebody who was there told the story that found its way to you. The story of the manger. In your imagination, who was the first messenger who started the historic succession of story telling that ended up with you?

And then someone told the story to you. Maybe your mother told you, or someone else in your family. Or a friend. About Jesus born in a manger in Bethlehem and about how this Jesus brings God to life in our lives. About how this baby is the Light of the world. A light that no darkness can overcome.

Today is a day to give thanks for all of those messengers over the centuries who shared the story so that we could find our way to the manger.

And, of course, we are part of that line of messengers. To whom will you or have you told the story of the manger?

Christmas Eve

The True Spirit of Christmas

In addition to the bombardment of advertising that comes at us this time of year, different media outlets also present stories that might all be grouped under the headline “The True Spirit of Christmas.” Pretty much anything that contrasts with the commercialism of Christmas seems to come under this heading.

I welcome these stories. They are filled with hope and often illustrate the best of human nature. It is good at Christmas time to be reminded of the goodness of people.

But it’s also good, especially for those of us who gather for worship on Christmas, to be reminded that Christmas isn’t about us, even at our very best. If we define the “True Meaning or Spirit of Christmas” as anything and everything that’s just slightly better than commercialism, we’re still missing out on the deep wonder and true miracle of Christmas. The true meaning of Christmas is all about God. God who came among us.

I think God is in these human stories that we tell to illustrate the “true spirit of Christmas.” And yet, even those of us who are Christians often forget to name him.

As examples of the true spirit of Christmas we often hear stories of heroic generosity. The parent who goes hungry to buy a child a simple gift. Individuals and families who give and give and give so that other families with limited resources can have a Christmas feast or so that military personnel can experience some piece of home at Christmas time. Stories of human generosity.

But the story to tell tonight is of God’s generous giving of himself to us without reservation. And of the literally limitless abundance of God’s blessings for us. God’s generosity is the source of ours. God’s generosity is the true meaning of Christmas.

Christmas time also generates stories of reconciliation. Stories about family members long estranged who humble themselves to come together at Christmas time. To forgive one another and renew relationships. Dicken’s A Christmas Carol is one of these stories. Scrooge, who finally puts aside all of his attitude, and humbly reconciles with Fred, the son of his beloved sister.

The true story of Christmas, though, is that God humbled himself to be born in human likeness so that we might be reconciled with him. Divine love is born in the world tonight. A love that is more powerful than any human division.

To illustrate the meaning of Christmas we often tell stories of individuals who shine forth with hope and wonder in the midst of darkness. It seems there are many dark places in the world today. We cherish stories about individuals or communities who nonetheless, persevere in hope.

Hope itself was born in a poor manger. Beauty beyond human description came into being in the dinginess of a barn. Holiness took on human being. That incredible hope is God’s Christmas gift.

Peace. Peace is also celebrated as a manifestation of the real meaning of Christmas. Many of you will have seen renewed interest this year in the Christmas truce of 1914. It has been 100 years. It really happened in the early days of WW 1, that informal truces arose across the trenches of France. Armies paused in their killing of each other to exchange gifts and greetings.

I read a commentary on the truce which included this observation: “Crucially, there was no truce in 1915…. The most important legacy of the Christmas Truce, which has been memorialized in movies and remembered as evidence of mutual respect and humanity amidst the horrors of war, is that there was only one of them” (Read the piece here... not that I necessarily support or can really evaluate the overall thesis). The most important legacy of the Christmas Truce of 1914 is that there was only one of them.

When the “Spirit of Christmas” is only about human nature, even human nature at its most noble, its most generous, its most hopeful… when the “Spirit of Christmas” is only about human nature, it is fleeting. Only God offers the peace which passes human understanding. To know the little baby born this night is to know that peace.

When we hang onto the gifts that God gives this night, then the Christmas spirit becomes more than fleeting acts of holiday goodwill. The true spirit of Christmas becomes a way of life. The true spirit of Christmas is the Christian life. Year round. Life shared with God. Christmas spirit is the Christian life.

It is a life full of abundance generously shared, and full of wonder. A life filled with the reconciling power of God’s own love, with unquenchable hope and the peace which surpasses human understanding.

May you know that life throughout the year.

Christmas Eve

God's Gift to an Eccentric World

For no particular reason this year I took more interest in the winter solstice than usual. Even though I have a pretty strong science background, I have always found astronomy confusing and complicated. I was reminded of that as a rambled from link to link on the internet reading about the technical aspects of the solstice.

 Did you know that the day of the winter solstice was neither the latest sunrise nor the earliest sunset, but it was the shortest day of the year? Or that the four seasons of the year are not of equal length?

And to top it off, the earth’s orbit around the sun is eccentric!

Actually, I already knew that eccentricity is a technical term used in astronomy, although the eccentricity of the earth’s orbit is not something I ponder often. When astronomers say that the earth’s orbit is eccentric, they mean it is elliptical, not a perfect circle around the sun. Eccentricity describes deviation from perfection. At least in terms of orbits. Eccentric means not perfect.

When we describe people as eccentric we usually mean a bit off center, don’t we? Although I think it is usually said with endearment. Interestingly, the word was used in astronomy long before it was applied to odd uncles.

Putting aside unusual relatives, let’s stay with the technical definition of orbital eccentricity. Not perfect. The earth’s orbit is not perfect.

And when I think about something so basic, so fundamental to life on earth, being eccentric, or not perfect, it leads me to reflect that imperfection is unavoidable. It is inevitable. It’s fundamental, pervasive. The very planet we are riding through space traces an imperfect course.

Metaphorically speaking are there any perfect circles in our lives? I don’t think so. Eccentricity is everywhere. We live in a world off center, full of eccentricity, rampant with imperfection.

We live in a world where…
Our path around the sun is imperfect.
Our civic lives as nation and state are imperfect.
Our relationships are imperfect.
Our efforts to promote justice are imperfect.
Our attempts to create good are imperfect.
Our faith is imperfect.

In Jesus’ birth, God chose to be a part of this world. To join himself to it. God entered fully into this eccentric, imperfect world. Many babies are described as “perfect.” (I think every grandbaby is described as perfect!) But there was only one who truly was. A perfect baby born into a world where nothing is perfect.

That perfect child whom we welcome this night offers us many, many things in our imperfect lives, our eccentric world. I want to mention one. Although we describe God as perfect, the word perfect doesn’t occur terribly often in Scripture or the Prayer Book. It’s there, off and on, in a variety of contexts, usually referring to something God is or offers.

This passage is from Isaiah (26:3): As it is translated within a worship service from the Prayer Book: O God, you will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are fixed on you. This is the King James translation: Thou wilt keep [them] in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee. Perfect peace. For those whose mind is stayed on God, perfect peace. Perfect. Peace.

One of God’s gift’s to us in the birth of this perfect child. The coming of Jesus doesn’t fix the imperfections of our lives or our world, but Jesus brings God’s own perfect peace into our world. So that we may know and experience and cling to peace, perfect peace, in the very midst of turmoil and discord, struggle and failure. Perfect peace. Thou wilt keep them in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee. Perfect peace is born for us this night.

The First Sunday after Christmas Day - December 30

Light Shines in the Darkness
John 1:1-18

The metaphors or images of darkness and light are important in John's Gospel. In the introduction to the Gospel, which is the reading appointed for this First Sunday after Christmas, we are given a vivid introduction to the symbolism of light and darkness.

From this morning's reading, in the New Revised Standard translation:  What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

I have always found that last line powerful. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.  Even the smallest of lights can be seen in the darkness.

But maybe you remember the King James translation of this verse: And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.

To spend a little more time with this verse, I looked up a few additional translations.

From the New English Bible:  The light shines on in the dark, and the darkness has never mastered it.

From the New Jerusalem Bible:  Light shines in darkness and darkness could not overpower it. 

I have one more association with the verse.  From Benjamin Britten's opera Billy Budd.  So this is an opera by Britten, based on a novella by Herman Melville, with libretto by E. M. Forster (who was pretty handy with the English language.)  In it, there is a man who is evil:  John Claggert.  Claggert sees in the young man Billy Budd pure goodness.  And, in the opera, he responds by singing:  "O beauty, o handsomeness, goodness! Would that I ne’er encountered you! Would that I lived in my own world always, in that depravity to which I was born. There I found peace of a sort, there I established an order such as reigns in Hell. But alas, alas! The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness comprehends it and suffers."  A reference to the King James translation.  The darkness does comprehend the light, but that comprehension brings suffering to the darkness.

It’s one Greek word, of course, that describes what the darkness cannot do to the light.  There are several translation challenges.  First, it is in the aorist. If I remember correctly, that's not a verb tense we really have in English. Basically, it is a past tense that implies continuing action. Hence some of the translations speaking of the light shining on and the darkness continuing to struggle.  And the meaning is difficult to translate. It can mean:

1) to grasp in the sense of comprehend
2) to welcome, receive, accept
3) to overcome, or grasp in a hostile sense
4) to master

These are what the darkness would, but cannot do, to the light that has come into the world.

Whatever meaning the word takes, it speaks of a darkness that has will, motivation. The darkness is Godlessness within ourselves, within our world.  Those places within ourselves and within our world that turn away from Christ.  And those places of darkness are not passive; they are not just an absence of light.  The darkness has will, motivation, power.  Do not underestimate it.

And the darkness interacts with the light. The darkness perceives the light.  In the presence of the light, the darkness suffers, and would quench its beam.  The darkness struggles against the light... tries to overcome, comprehend, master, overpower.

But the darkness will never prevail. However you translate it, John says it.  Even the most powerful darkness will...  not...  prevail...  over the Light of Christ.  The tiniest candle can be seen throughout a vast and empty room. A single star will guide wise travelers across continents as they come seeking God. A tiny baby embodies all of heaven's brilliance. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not, can not, will not overcome it.

Christmas Day

Wanting What We Already Have

Frazz is one of the comics I read fairly regularly. I still miss my all time favorite Calvin and Hobbs, and I don’t always understand Frazz, but I want to share with you a strip that appeared a few days ago.

Frazz takes place at Bryson Elementary School. Several precocious children are recurring characters, especially a young boy named Caulfield. There are several quirky teaches and the school custodian, Frazz, who also happens to be a songwriter and do triathlons.

So Frazz is working in the school hallway and a young girl comes up to him and says, “Know what I want for Christmas? I want to wake up next to a warm, purring kitty.”

Frazz replies, “You want a new cat?” She says, “No, the same one.”

In the final frame, Frazz says, “I like how you think,” and she replies “Why should I have to not have something to want it?”

Why should I have to not have something to want it? Can't we already have something, and still want it, too?

In addition to being an indictment of the ultra consumerism of Christmas where advertisers try to instill desire in us for things we do not have, do not need and probably really do not want… I think this strip is pretty good theology. Why should I have to not have something to want it? We can know we have something, like a kitty who is warm and purrs; and at the same time still yearn for it, too.  To affirm what we have and experience desire at the same time. To still eagerly want what we have already been given. I think that is the Christian celebration of Christmas.  To celebrate that we have been given in Jesus' birth all that our hearts and souls could desire.  But at the same time still want and yearn for the presence of Emmanuel, God with us.  Simultaneous thankful celebration and yearning. That’s the Christian Christmas. Simultaneous celebration and yearning.

So, in that spirit what do I want for Christmas this year? A bright and shining star to guide me to God in the midst of life’s dark paces.

Frazz might ask, “A new star?”

No, the same one. The same one I’ve always had. Why should I have to not have something to want it?

And I’d like a song to sing that soars with joy and peace. I suppose a new one would be OK, if it was good. But why should I have to not have something to want it? I have Adeste Fideles and Joy to the World… I have them, and I want them, too.

And what I really, really want most for Christmas is for God to come. To me.  To come be with us. In gentleness and strength. Close enough to touch but full of majesty. To comfort and guide. To teach and forgive. I want a savior and a shepherd. To be with me to bless my struggles and give breath to my hopes. To bring joy and peace.

You want a new God for Christmas, Frazz might ask.

No, the same one. Why should I have to not have something to want it.  We can still want what we already have.

This Christmas season, wishing you both joyous celebration and eager yearning for our Savior's birth.

Christmas Eve

O Holy Night 

There was an article in today’s Tribune about the Christmas song, “O holy night."  For many people, it’s a special favorite.  You probably have a version you particularly like; mine is Pavarotti's. As the Trib noted in passing, it is a song that calls for a solo voice (unlike most Christmas carols).  Many singers in different styles and with varying success have recorded it over the years.

But it’s not the song I want to focus on, but the words. Holy Night. Holy Night.

Over and over again, in hymns and poems, human beings across the centuries have called this night “holy.” That word “holy," of course, is a word we use a lot in the church.We use it so frequently I imagine for many of you it usually just slides by without much notice or particular significance. It’s a word we say a lot in church, you expect to hear it. (As an aside it’s interesting that we don’t use it much at all outside of church.) But for some reason, tonight the word "holy" is not routine, not something that just slips by relatively unnoticed. Not on this holy night. This is a holy night.  And calling this night “holy” is important.

Especially when I’m teaching children about Holy Communion or working with adults, too, I ask people to define “holy” in their own words. Usually folks struggle just a bit. Something to do with God, they say. It’s hard to put exactly into words.

But, although it may be hard to come up with a dictionary-style definition for holy or holiness, you know it when you see it. You know it when you feel holiness. You know it when you experience holiness. And now, this night, this holy night, is one of those times.  One of those times when we see and hear and know holiness.

Tonight we know what holiness looks like. It looks like a baby born in a manger. A baby just like any other, except … holy. A little baby boy who is holiness.

Holiness is what angels sound like singing.

Somehow a simple story of shepherd’s and magi’s awe and wonder expresses something holy that we can touch and share.

Holiness is the vision of angels’ wings just visible, shimmering light in the dark.

 Holiness is the feeling born in human hearts this night—the inexplicable, but inextinguishable ember of hope within, no matter what is going on outside.

This night we are surrounded by holiness and filled with holiness. Maybe it’s hard to describe or explain, but it’s there. This night. This holy night.

God’s gift this night is holiness. Given to us. Into our lives; into our world. God, with us.

Holiness came into our world that night in Bethlehem so many years ago when God was born in a manger. Holiness came into our world and it has never left.

In this annual celebration of the holy nativity our awareness is renewed. Our confidence is restored that we may seek and expect holiness throughout our lives.

As a part of the Prayer Book service of Daily Evening Prayer, we pray “that this evening may be holy, good and peaceful.” That’s a prayer to be said daily, any evening,  every night. And because this night is holy, and we know it is holy, we can expect any night, all other nights, to be holy, too.

Because we see and hear the holy angels on this night, we can look for them to guard us and sing to us on other nights.

Because an unquenchable light shines in the darkness of this holy night, we can grasp the promise that we will never be conquered by the dark.

Hang on to the holiness of this night. It is real and it does not depart with tomorrow’s sunrise.

Because God in all of his holiness was born in human flesh on this night, we human beings are invited to know and share God’s holiness throughout our lives.

O holy night. The stars are brightly shining. This is the night of our dear Savior’s birth.  O, holy night.

Christmas Day

Beautiful Feet 
Isaiah 52:7-10

Today’s reading from the Hebrew Scriptures is one of many gems from the prophet known as Second Isaiah. For those of you who know Handel’s Messiah, you hear the words sung. But the words themselves are beautiful. “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of the messenger who announces peace, who brings good news, who announces salvation, who says to Zion, ‘Your God reigns.’”

How beautiful are the feet.

How often have you said to anyone you know, “You have beautiful feet?” It’s not a part of the human body that we usually associate with beauty. Even the most glamorous of people, I expect, is rarely complimented on the beauty of her feet.

I love this Christmas Day service. One of the things I love is what I might call its ordinariness. Christmas comes, and is celebrated, in ordinary circumstances, not just the extraordinary splendor of last night. Feet, not wings, are the focus today.

In Luke’s Gospel story of Jesus’ birth, which we hear on Christmas Eve, the angels are the heralds of good news. Trumpets sound and the heavenly host assembles with shimmering wings. Hark, the herald-angels sing.

In Isaiah, the herald has feet, not wings. Tired feet, I imagine, from rushing up and down mountains to bring good news to Zion.

The passages are parallel. Both describe God’s heralds who bring good news. As heralds, the angels or messengers need some sort of locomotion. They need feet or wings to bring the news to us. The heralds bring the good news to God’s people that God isn’t just out there somewhere anymore. God is coming now at this moment to be here with us. Actively reigning in our hearts and lives.

It is the heralds’ message that is beautiful. And many sorts of wings and feet bring it to us. In our ordinary lives, the heralds mostly have feet rather than wings.

Today give thanks for the bearers of the message in your life. They are beautiful, all those people who, in so many ways, have showed us that God is with us. Our God is with us.

Give thanks for the people who have shared God’s wonder and love with us, who have brought us the good news, who have helped us sing glory hallelujah.

I think tired feet are beautiful feet, especially this time of year. Maybe your tired feet have been heralds for others. Maybe your tired feet have brought the good news of God’s love and joy, God’s tender care into the lives of others.

It’s a beautiful message. Of peace and salvation. Of God with us. How beautiful are the feet of all the heralds who bring the message to us in the ordinary times and places of our lives.

Sing for joy! Isaiah says. Our God reigns.

Christmas Eve

Chreaster

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!

Yes, it’s been a long day, but, No, I’m not confused. I do know that this is Christmas Eve, not Easter. The angels sweetly sing glory and alleluia on this holy night of Jesus’ birth. And all the earth joins in to sing refrains of joy and celebration. But the angels will come back—to the tomb to make another announcement. He is risen. The angels mark both Christmas and Easter with their proclamations.

We would not celebrate Christmas, of course, if it hadn’t been for Easter. The beginning of Jesus’ life would not be particularly noteworthy if we did not know how his life ends.

Tonight we are celebrating Christmas. The celebration of Christmas evokes feelings of hope and joy. Feelings that evidently even some staunch atheists are not immune from. Even as they say: I do not believe… I do not believe… The celebration of the Christmas season evokes feelings of hope and joy.

I do think God is in those feelings of hope and joy. Yet it is also possible that it is just the celebration itself that spreads good cheer. The seasonal festivities themselves may be the only source of good feeling.

I do think it’s possible, maybe easy, even for Christians to celebrate Christmas without ever really feeling God’s touch. And I’m not talking now of the rush of materialism and consumerism that tempt us all. I’m talking about celebrating the season without getting past the season to the presence of God. We all enjoy the season, its celebration, its symbols and its traditions… And the season itself evokes good feelings. It is easy to go no further than those feelings.

The celebration of the Christmas season is replete with powerful symbols…

We are surrounded by light shining in the darkness.

We celebrate a new baby and all of the new possibilities and new beginnings that come with new birth.

Families, usually at their best, gather to share time, gifts and love with one another.

Even among people of no faith this season brings a tradition of generosity.

These are good things. And they can point to God. If we look beyond the symbols…

Garrison Kiellor has written a parody of the angel’s Christmas Eve message. In his version the angel says: I’ve come with good news that should make you really happy, for there is born today a child who shall be a symbol of new beginnings and possibilities.

As Christians we do not celebrate Christmas because it is a symbol of anything, even a symbol new beginnings and possibilities. Christmas is much more than a collection of hopeful symbols that make us feel good. We celebrate Christmas because the story that begins in the manger ends in glory. We celebrate Christmas because of how this story ends.

The Christmas lights will come down (some as early as tomorrow!) Families will disperse. Decorations will be packed up. We’ll stop singing Christmas carols. The symbols of Christmas will go away.

And babies grow up. All babies grow up. Even that most significant of Christmas symbols is transient. And with regular human babies—not Jesus—no matter how much hope and promise we may feel at their birth, we cannot be confident of their future. Without Easter. Without Easter even the most hopeful of beginnings can end up anywhere.

Without Easter, the feelings evoked by Christmas symbols will fade as the trees grow brittle and the needles fall off. Without Easter, once the crèche is put away we are left with nothing except wistful memories.

So we need to celebrate Easter, too, tonight. And we do.

Listen carefully to Christmas carols, at least religious Christmas carols. A lot of them use phrases that sound pretty Easter-y. And remember, Handel’s Messiah is actually an Easter oratorio. Christmas and Easter are all wrapped up together. We need to celebrate them together.

So. Alleluia. Christ is risen.

Have you noticed that we always say that Easter acclamation in the present tense? And Jesus is born in the present tense, too.

The Christmas story and the Easter story are the same story. And they take place in the present tense. Our present tense.

What does all of this mean for us? There is a Christmas blessing that includes these words: “May Christ, who by his Incarnation gathered into one things earthly and heavenly, fill you with his joy and peace..."

The events of Jesus’ life gathered into one things heavenly and things earthly. Whether you think of things heavenly descending at Christmas. Or things earthly ascending at Easter. Earth and heaven are gathered into one. That’s God’s Christmas/Easter gift to us in Jesus. Our earth and God’s heaven are gathered into one.

In another blessing that we will use this evening, we say that Jesus joins earth to heaven and heaven to earth.

Alleluia. This baby Jesus is risen, tonight, his earthly flesh gathered into one with heavenly glory. This baby Jesus born in poverty in a dirty stable is risen.

And through Jesus, our babies, all of our babies, are risen. Now in the present tense. Whether born into poverty or privilege… whatever their earthly prospects may seem to be, in every human baby earth and heaven are joined. Each newborn shines with the glory of heaven.

All that Jesus experienced in his earthly life, he gathered heaven into those experiences. He wove together human experience and heavenly glory.

Jesus, who worked hard and walked far is risen to highest heaven at the same time his feet trudge the dust of earth.

Jesus, who was unjustly maligned and criticized on earth, brings the splendor in heaven into those human experiences.

Jesus, who shared feasts and fellowship with friends is risen. So he brings God’s angels to the feasts and songs of human fellowship.

Jesus, forsaken by friends and followers is risen, gathering into one earth’s profound despair and heaven’s unquenchable hope.

And we are a part of this. Now. In the present tense. Our earthly lives are raised with Christ. Our human experiences are made one with heaven. The weak and vulnerable, tired, dirty, forsaken, hopeful, confused, afraid, joyous are raised. All of our earthly experiences are joined with heaven. Our work, our journeys, our trials and our celebrations. Our lives shine with the glory of heaven even after the tree is down and the twinkling lights are dark.

Alleluia! We are risen.

The First Sunday after Christmas Day

Life Goes On

Quite a few of the holy days of the church have complex titles with headings and subheadings. For example: The Nativity of Our Lord Jesus Christ. Colon. Christmas Day. The Epiphany, or, The Manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles. The First Sunday after the Epiphany. Colon. The Baptism of Our Lord.

Today could be called The First Sunday after Christmas Day. Colon. Life Goes On. Officially, of course, it is only the First Sunday after Christmas Day, which this year also happens to be the day after Christmas. Life Goes On.

For those of us who work in the church, it’s not as auspicious arrangement of the calendar when December 26 is a Sunday. The very next day after Christmas, I have to get up early, be “on” again? After all the energy put into three very different Christmas Services—two of which had their own homilies. Even for people not employed in the church, being a Christian is always work. It is much more than that, but it is also work. Life goes on.

Everyone today is surrounded by the aftermath of Christmas. Maybe that’s a warm glow, a lingering feeling of the best of human life and relationships. Maybe it’s pent up tension, the stress of human expectations, fulfilled and unfulfilled. Undoubtedly the aftermath of Christmas includes fatigue. But life goes on.

In England and some other parts of the former British Empire, December 26 is Boxing Day. Technically, I understand that this year the legal holiday will be tomorrow, December 27, because today is a Sunday, but I associate Boxing Day with December 26. A prominent custom of boxing day is for the wealthy, the privileged, to “box up” left over’s from their Christmas feast, or unwanted presents, and pass them along to tradespeople and servants. The “less fortunate.” More generally, Boxing Day is a time to give alms. The day after Christmas, poor are still with us. Life goes on. Life’s injustices go on.

Today is also St. Stephen’s Day. The day we commemorate the church’s first martyr. The day after Christmas, the day we remember and celebrate Christ’s birth, we remember Stephen, stoned to death for being a Christian. The ugliness of life goes on.

I understand that the retail industry in America has very high hopes for today. One headline I saw said, “Stars are aligned for a super Sunday.” Never mind the Magi’s star. Today is all about the post Christmas sale and exchange shopping extravaganza. And it’s a weekend! Yippee. American life goes on.

Life goes on.

For us today is the First Sunday after Christmas Day. It is the second Day of Christmas season. We are still celebrating the birth of Emmanuel, God with us. Life goes on with Jesus in it. This is the life Jesus was born to share, to transform and to redeem.

Life goes on with Jesus in it. I hope that makes a difference. For you. For the world.

Life goes on—with Jesus in it.

Christmas Day

Jesus' Grandparents

Over the river, and through the wood,
To Grandmother’s house we go;
The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh
through the white and drifted snow.

Did you know that that song was originally written as a Thanksgiving poem? (The wonders of Wikipedia!) It’s an easy transition to Christmas. For some reason, Grandfather’s house in the original becomes Grandmother’s house at Christmas. And a few specific references to Thanksgiving Day are changed to Christmas. But in either case, it captures the joy and excitement of a shared holiday, especially shared between grandparents and grandchildren. It captures some of the special goodness in that very special relationship.

Over the river, and through the wood—
It is so hard to wait!
Over the river, and through the wood—
Now Grandmother's cap I spy!
Hurrah for the fun! Is the pudding done?
Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!

Last night was all about the herald angels and a wondrous star, as we remembered Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem. This morning, the day after, the grandparents showed up to see the new baby. We have absolutely no evidence that Jesus’ grandparent actually did show up. In fact, most likely they did not. But it’s fun to imagine that, like grandparents today, they did show up right after the birth to welcome their new grandchild. Over the last few days I’ve had fun imagining what they might have been like. Sort of an amalgamation of Leave It to Beaver America and the stereotypical Jewish grandmother, clucking and fussing, with a little bit of my own thrown in as well.

We know virtually nothing of course. Tradition gives names to Mary’s parents. Out of deference to her, stories were created in the second century to supply a fuller account of her birth and family. The stories are woven from Old Testament cloth, not historical reality. But we might borrow their names, Anne and Joachim, as we imagine Jesus’ grandparents.

I know that not all human families embody the ideal relationship between grandparents and grandchildren. But what is that ideal in our minds? Grandparents are those who bestow extravagant love. Not encumbered by the need or guidance or discipline that parents rightly feel, grandparents are free to pour out unlimited and extravagant love.

And to cherish the gift of this grandchild as a wondrous and miraculous gift. From a practical perspective, grandparents can only see themselves as indirectly responsible (at best) for the birth of their grandchildren. So the child is a gift. A gift to be cherished. In fact, if grandparents could directly cause the birth of a grandchild, I know quite a few—grandmothers especially—who would do so. But they can’t. The child is a gift. To be wondered at and treasured.

We do well to remember what this child does for us. How he was born to redeem us from sin and transform the darkness into light. But maybe this morning we might also remember what we can do for him. Perhaps we might imagine ourselves in the role of Jesus’ grandparents. We are like Jesus’ grandparents. A new baby has been born, a wonderful gift for us. Let us shower upon him extravagant and unfettered love. Cherish him. Treasure him. Hold him close.

Christmas Eve

Merry Christmas

Do you have some particular activity you turn to to cheer yourself up? Or maybe even in times when you don’t feel like you need cheering up, still it’s an activity that always makes you feel good, lightens your heart.

The cliché used to be that a woman would go out and buy a hat when she needed to cheer herself up. Women don’t wear hats as much as they used to, but shopping still works for many. Or maybe you eat a hot fudge sundae. Or call and talk to a special friend. Go to a favorite place. Watch a heart-warming movie? (Or depending upon your temperament maybe an action movie serves better to raise your spirits.)

Most of us have some sort of activity that our experience has taught us has the power to cheer our hearts.

Maybe for you going to midnight mass on Christmas Eve always raises your spirits. Hearing the Christmas story. Hearing the story from Luke’s Gospel has wondrous power to bring hope and cheer. Whether it’s me or, even better, Linus reading it…

And there are all of the traditions that have accreted onto the Christmas story. In theory, at least, we do them because they, too, have the power to make us happy. That’s why we do Christmas traditions. To cheer ourselves. Visiting the storefront Christmas windows. Watching reruns of It’s a Wonderful Life and the Christmas Story. Decorating the tree. Sharing good food. All of these accessories for the Christmas story… We do these things knowing—or hoping—that they will instill the “Christmas spirit” in us.

We look to the Christmas story to make us happy. Think of all the adjectives that go with Christmas. Merry Christmas. Happy Christmas. Have a holly, jolly Christmas. Even if the Christmas story and all of its accessories doesn’t always, in our experience, make us merry, we think it should. And we feel even betrayed by the story, betrayed even somehow by life is Christmas doesn’t cheer us. It’s as though we’ve been robbed of a tonic that we think of as guaranteed to work.

The power that this story has to make us happy is a wonderful gift. But Christmas is more than a story. And when we think of it as only a story—a story whose specific purpose is to make us feel better—we’ve robbed God’s action of its true power. We have reduced it to entertainment. Sacred entertainment, but still entertainment.

If Luke’s story is just a story we hear or watch, no different from Dicken’s A Christmas Carol or a holiday movie, then we are casting God as just an author. A damn good author, but just an author. And we have missed the real purpose of God’s action.

I’m reminded of a scene in the first Harry Potter book and movie. I remember it particularly from the movie. Harry is living with his Aunt and Uncle, the Dursley’s. They are all at the zoo looking at a large, exotic snake through the glass. Harry’s very obnoxious cousin, Dudley Dursley, is banging on the glass, trying to get the snake to entertain him. Harry doesn’t yet know he has magical powers, so everyone is astonished when Dudley magically passes right through the glass. To his immense distress he finds himself all-of-a sudden-actually in the snakes’ world.

So often we look at the Christmas story through the glass. Watching, observing, expecting to be entertained. What if we were to magically pass through the glass and find ourselves literally in the stable, next to the manger? I’m not sure that experience would be a merry one.

It would be dark, cold, smelling like animal dung. In the broader would we would find ourselves in a world where people struggling just to survive. A time of political instability and economic uncertainty. Kind of like the world we live in.

Dudley Dursley found himself wet, unhappy and face to face with a terrifying snake. We would find ourselves in the dark and cold, frightened and confused and face to face with Jesus. We would find ourselves in an unsettling situation, in an often unpleasant world. And face to face with Jesus.

Christmas is not a “story” designed to help us emotionally escape the trials of this world. Christmas isn’t about “creating” happiness.

Christmas is about coming face to face with Jesus. Here in the middle of the trials of this world. In good and bad times. Maybe especially when you we feel dark and unhappy, God’s actions at Christmas ensure that we are never alone. Our lives are shared with God. The whole point of Christmas is that we do not look at God through a glass or read about him in a story, or watch him at the movies. We meet God face to face and know God in the reality of our own lives.

Whether we are happy or sad, God is with us. Whether we are struggling or rejoicing, we are never alone. We are face to face with Jesus in times of wonder and in times of despair. Whether our hearts are filled with confusion or peace, still God shares our human lives with us. No matter what your mood, that’s immeasurably better than the alternative. And a life shared with God, no matter what the circumstances, no matter what your mood… a life shared with God is immeasurably better than one without God in it.

God chose to share our human lives with us. That’s what happens at Christmas. There’s one more way to think about what that means. In the proper preface for the Christmas season we say that Jesus, “by the mighty power of the Holy Spirit, was made perfect Man… so that we might receive power to become [God’s] children.” God’s action in becoming fully human gave us human beings the power to become full children of God. The African-American folk singer Odetta made a recording of Christmas spirituals. Not the songs you’re hearing at the malls these days. They come out of the African-American experience, not always a “merry” or “happy” life. One of them is called “If anybody asks you who you are.” If anybody asks you who you are, tell them you’re a child of God. It’s not always clear as Odetta sings whether her voice is Mary’s talking to Jesus… If anybody asks you who you are, tell them you’re a child of God. Or if she’s singing to us… or if speaking for herself… And that’s the miracle of Christmas. It’s all the same… Jesus, you, me, Odetta. If anybody asks you who you are… tell them you’re a child of God. This wondrous night, or any night. Any time, any place. If anybody asks you who you are, tell them you’re a child of God.