Sermons

Exodus 20:1-17, 1 Corinthians 1:18-25, John 2:13-22, Psalm 19

The news this past week of the shuttering of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem has been a source of great interest for Christians around the world.  The Church of the Holy Sepulcher is said to be built over the site of the Cross, on which Jesus died, and the tomb, from which he rose again.

Christian religious leaders, representing a wide variety of faith traditions rotate their worship at the site.  Though very small in number, but diversified in theology, these leaders came together on the agreement days ago to close this most sacred of Christian sites.  The action was in response to an economic decision by leaders of the Israeli government to begin taxing previously tax-exempt properties under their jurisdiction with the exclusion of synagogues.  In the face of opposition, the decision has been reversed.

As you can imagine, the Church of the Holy Sepulcher is a major draw for Christians travelling from all over the world to visit the Holy City.  Visiting Jerusalem would be quite incomplete without this main attraction.  The popularity of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher is quite a boost to the city’s tourist revenue.

Without doubt, it is quite difficult to maintain reverence and pursue sincere worship in such a space that too easily feels like a tourist attraction – more of a challenge even than the Cathedral in Washington, DC; Bruton Parish in Williamsburg, or Notre Dame in Paris.  Just keeping camera bugs from standing in the chairs and flashing pictures during prayers is almost impossible.

These are perfect examples of the difficulty in separating economics and religion, and it can be even more difficult for them to share the same space.  The Church tends to sneer at wealthy people and corporations, sanctimoniously condemning all the “rich” as greedy and ruthless.  And, yet, our seminarians are dependent upon the scholarships provided by wealthy philanthropists; our churches routinely apply for the grants that corporations graciously make available to support capital campaigns; and our world missions receive millions of dollars yearly from economically successful individuals and foundations who have dedicated their profits to the spreading of the Gospel message.

How do we protect religion from becoming an economic idol?  Where do we separate greedy “capitalism” from Christian stewardship?  Perhaps we are misguided in our prejudice of the wealthy; better to show them the love of Christ and join them in our cooperative faith journeys with the goal to remain humble regardless of our earthly wealth and social status – to remain humble, giving all glory to God and funneling our wealth towards the furtherance of God’s kingdom.

As we read in our Gospel lesson, on this day in the earthly life of Jesus, The Temple – the great pinnacle of Jewish worship appears to have been reduced to a center for economic priorities, clouding its purpose as the house of God.  From our lesson, we can easily envision the chaotic scene.

The Temple structure was complicated; specific religious credentials were required to pass from the outer-most through the intermediary chambers and into the innermost sanctuaries – the altar where sacrifices were offered to God, the tabernacle where God resided.  There was great distinction between the ranks of Jewish religious authority who could enter.

Otherwise, this outer-most area, The Court of the Gentiles was a place where anyone in the general public could gather; it would look to us much like an open-air market with any and everyone milling about or cutting through to shorten the destination to another part of the city.

At the Jerusalem Temple, besides this hurry-scurry loud and disorderly crowd, the open area is complete with the animals – cattle, sheep, and turtledoves held there to be purchased and offered for sacrifice at the altar of God as dictated by Jewish Law.

Faithful Jews coming to the Temple on pilgrimage would bring the current coinage to purchase the appropriate animal for sacrifice.  This currency was that produced by the Roman government bearing the image of Caesar.  Religious policy required that this money be exchanged for Jewish shekels.  It is not difficult to imagine the potential for corruption; moneychangers, of course, would need to set aside a transaction fee; they would have been expected to be accountable to the Roman authorities as well as the religious authorities.  And, as everyone got a cut of the proceeds, the poor humble pilgrims increasingly became prey for these scavengers; accumulated wealth rather than God became the focus of religious life.

These typical activities that were taking place upon Jesus’ arrival were not inherently criminal or unsavory activities.  It was the way that they were being conducted in this sacred space – in Jesus’ words, “making my Father’s house a marketplace.”  The irreverence that exuded from this misuse of this most sacred of sacred places corrupted the journey to the pinnacle of faith; God had been evicted from his earthly dwelling place; there was no sense of the sacred.

Why is this Gospel message so important to us Christians?  How is it that we relate to the pinnacle of the Temple?  Where is the temple in which we followers of Christ find oneness with God?

John tells us “Jesus is speaking of the temple of his body.”  This is blasphemy to those who reject Jesus Christ.  But, to us Christians, it is the pinnacle of our faith.  There is no earthly dwelling place of God; God dwells in Jesus Christ.  We make our pilgrimage to the pinnacle of our faith as we come reverently – unworthy, yet worthily – to the altar where we are made one with Jesus Christ.

Our Lenten pilgrimage is a journey to the pinnacle of our faith; our Lenten pilgrimage is a journey through the earthy chaos of economics and politics that seek to rob the sanctity of our worship and corrupt our presence in the temple of the Body of Christ.  Through this sacred pilgrimage of Lent we are cleansed of the idols we have made for ourselves; hearing God’s Second Commandment that we read in Exodus 20:  You shall not make for yourself an idol, whether in the form of anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. 

Through our Lenten pilgrimage our physical and spiritual temple is cleansed as this earthly Temple was cleansed by Jesus – cleansed by the grace of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16, Romans 4:13-25, Mark 8:31-38, Psalm 22:22-30

One of the parables we discussed for our Lenten study on Wednesday night was the parable of the mustard seed.  The parable teaches us that we should not underestimate the potential of the mustard seed, which Jesus reminds us will grow into a shrub providing shelter for the birds.  We learn that faith as tiny as a mustard seed will move mountains. 

But, too often, just as we underestimate the potential of the mustard seed, so we underestimate the power of God.  We make God a small god who resides comfortably within our expectations.

The God of the book of Genesis is not a small god of comfort zones.  In our Old Testament lesson from Genesis, we learn of the covenant established with Abraham This covenant includes God’s pledge to Abram symbolized in the changing of Abram’s name to Abraham.  In exchange for Abraham’s commitment of faith, God pledges to make Abraham the father of a multitude of nations.  It’s a great account of the power of our awesome God.

From this morning’s lesson, we learn that Abraham, now at the age of ninety-nine, and his wife Sarah would give birth to a son.  Jumping way ahead with our story, this son, Isaac, would father the twins Esau and Jacob.  Jacob would become the father of twelve sons and be given the name Israel.  Thus, Abraham’s progeny would become the chosen people of the one God.  From the people of Israel, as God promises in our lesson this morning, kings would come, most notably, King David, and, generations after that, the Messiah.  Yes, this God of Abraham is the same God who, centuries later, sent his Son to live among us in human form and to die for us on the cross.  This God is no small god.  This is not a God who is satisfied to remain in our comfort zone.

This is the message that Peter is beginning to discover in our Gospel lesson.  In this morning’s lesson from the Gospel of Mark, Jesus rebukes Peter essentially, we could say, for making God too small.  As we do too often, Peter would like to keep the status quo – to stay with what is familiar.  Peter is setting his mind on human things rather than divine things.  Peter joined up for the disciple piece, but the cost has become suddenly fearsome with the mention of suffering and death.  Wouldn’t it be better to “lay low” for awhile and let some of this controversy with the religious leaders pass over.  That’s what a small god would do.  But, Jesus recognizes Satan’s role in using Peter to keep God too small – and he rebukes Satan’s exploitation of Peter’s fear of the unknown as he shouts the order, “Get behind me, Satan!”

We, too, make God too small.  We make God too small when we keep him at a distance through our own misconception that we know what is best for us and that we can carry on through the day without acknowledging our dependence on God and without seeking God’s guidance from the minute we open our eyes at the dawn of each new day.  Would you head out into a snowstorm without a coat? 

We make God small when we ignore his presence in the noise and in the silence and in the eyes of a stranger, or a hurting family member, or a difficult co-worker.  

We make God small when we neglect to pray for the people in our lives who are difficult to love and neglect to pray for our enemies who seek to destroy us.  We make God small when we discount God’s ability to bring peace to our daily relationships, peace in the face of violence and death in our schools and neighborhoods, peace to the entirety of our war-ravaged world. 

We make God small when we refuse to acknowledge that the anger we carry in our hearts destroys us from within.  Thus, we fail to acknowledge that the only way to be fully forgiven of our sins against God and our neighbor is to forgive those who have sinned against us fully and completely.  A wound that heals on the outside continues to fester underneath.  This may or may not include resuming the relationship. 

We make God small when we dismiss our responsibility as his own children by not looking at our own hands and hearts as the hands and hearts through which God brings healing to the world. 

We love our comfort zone, our routine lives in which we define our little God on our own terms.  Would Jesus say to us as he said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan!  For you are setting your mind not on divine things but human things.”  How and when does Satan exploit our fear of the unknown just as he did Peter’s?

Satan veils our better judgment.  We can pass laws against weapons on school property and elsewhere; we can require our school officials and protective services to profile, evaluate, and report high-risk behavior from the children they are charged to educate and protect.  But, we cannot legislate against the anger that wells up inside these maligned young people who choose a shooting rampage to assuage their pent up bitterness.  And, we cannot legislate against the brokenness of the dysfunctional home life that allows these young people to slip through the cracks and become murderers. 

When we hide behind our fears, the murder rate grows among our youth on the streets of our cities and in the “safe zones” of our schools.  When we hide behind our fears and deny that, for each of us, our first and most necessary action is dependence on God to guide us in intervening in the lives of broken children, we make our God small.  Standing back and casting blame only exacerbates this critical issue; we are not people of a God who is too small to rescue wayward children.  It is up to us to recognize our dependence on God’s guidance for every thought, word, and action in the lives of our children.  We cannot stop trying even when the task is monumental and so many seem so hopeless.

In the name of the Church, you are invited to the observance of a holy Lent.  This road to the cross is not in our comfort zone.  For every breath and for every step along the way, we will keep our focus on God and his Son Jesus Christ through prayer, Bible study, worship, and taking up the cross of Christ through the sharing of his suffering in our society.  You see, we cannot rejoice and sing Alleluia at the Resurrection if we have not stood at the foot of the cross, confessed our sins, and watched our savior suffer and die all because we neglectfully make our God a small god.  

2 Kings 2:1-12,  2 Corinthians 4:3-6,  Mark 9:2-9,  Psalm 50:1-6

Our lessons this morning express for us a specific and an awesome sense of the presence of God.  In 2 Kings, we read of the mantle being passed from the great prophet Elijah to Elisha, his faithful companion and successor.  Elijah is the only prophet about whom we read being carried up into heaven in a whirlwind.

What an amazing story:  The two are going along together passing through a number of well-known towns of their day.  Elijah encourages Elisha to remain behind in each of the cities they visit, but Elisha is a dedicated student of Elijah, and he refuses to give up the journey even though the future is uncertain.  Then, after a miraculous crossing of the Jordan River reminiscent of the crossing of the Red Sea by the Israelites, Elijah and Elisha are separated suddenly by fiery chariots and horses of fire.  The fire is so fierce and the activity so horrendous that Elisha is unable to see what is happening to Elijah.  Even in his fear and distress, Elisha remains steadfast until he is certain that Elijah has indeed been drawn into heaven.  Elisha, then, tears his clothes in anguish at the realization of being left alone without the guidance of his mentor.  Yet, at the same time, Elisha is awed by the power of God’s presence – a presence that affirms Elisha’s status as the receiver of the mantle from Elijah.

God’s spirit among his people is continued as before as the mantle is successfully transitioned from Elijah to Elisha.

Similarly, Peter, James, and John who accompany Jesus to the mountaintop in Mark’s Gospel experience anguish and awe in the miraculous unfolding of the Transfiguration.  They are terrified and confused by their experience as Jesus is transfigured – his clothes becoming dazzling white as he is joined by Moses and Elijah – the embodiment of God’s Law and Prophecy.

Then, the voice of God comes from the overshadowing cloud, and Peter, James, and John are terrified just as Elisha had been terrified by the unquestionable presence of God.  Peter, James, and John stand in awe at the confirmation of Jesus as the Son of God.

In his article “The Awesome and Our Awe,” Fr. Jeffrey Mackey states, “The worshiper who recognizes that it is awe which apprehends God is lifted to an indescribable level.”[1]  Apprehend is an interesting verb choice; to apprehend in a law enforcement sense is to arrest, to take in for questioning, to capture.  Yes, God wants the awe of our worship to capture him so that we are lifted to an indescribable level.  Fr. Mackey follows with the quote from Rabbi Abraham Heschel, “[Awe] enables us to perceive in the world intimations of the divine, …to sense the ultimate in the common and the simple; to feel in the rush of the passing the stillness of the eternal.”

What is awe and how does it “happen?”

Every day does not bring mountaintop experiences.  Every Sunday is not the Sunday of the Transfiguration.  We don’t often experience chariots of fire and fiery horsemen.  But, that does not mean we do not feel the awe of God’s presence.

On our Advent FaceBook page, I have posted an article by Kazimierz Bem, a UCC minister.  The article affirms the reality that Christianity cannot survive without worship; and worship, I would add cannot survive without inspiring awe in the presence of God.

Bem laments the current assessment that worship must be “tailored for terribly busy people, giving them a brief moment of worship ‘on the run’ (with the stress on brief).”  And, Bem adds, he constantly hears the refrain, “’the Church of the future is the church of service’ (as opposed to a Church known for its worship.  In other words), “Don’t focus on worship – do stuff instead!”[2]  Bem asserts that following this train of thought is allowing culture to get the best of us, misdirecting us to believe that our faith can survive being spiritual without being religious.  History confirms that entire civilizations of Christians have vanished because they were denied the freedom and/or the specific administrative support that worship requires.

Now, certainly, Bem is not suggesting that active service through mission and ministry is not important.  But, he is emphasizing that the Church must be much more than service; our service must be grounded in our worship.  We are made holy by the blood of Jesus Christ, not by our actions; our worship is an expression of our praise and thanksgiving for this one holy and perfect sacrifice.  There is nothing we do that is equitable to that one perfect sacrifice.  And, all that we do is in recognition and gratitude for that sacrifice.

So, we come to worship.  Unlike to world, our worship is orderly and reverent and steeped in meaningfulness.  Our worship systematically and very intentionally includes words of praise to God, vital lessons from the Holy Scriptures, Confession of our sins against God and our neighbor, followed by the absolution of our sins; then, the exchange of the Peace of Christ; all in preparation for the Holy Communion that we share as one Body at peace.  Our worship progresses from the time we enter, building toward the most holy sacrament of the altar.  Everything we do and the sequence in which we do it has meaning; everything is ordered in reverence for the purpose of drawing us into the presence of God, to sense the ultimate in the common and the simple; to feel in the rush of the passing the stillness of the eternal; capturing awe in the presence of God.

Kazimierz Bem concludes his article with his response to those who tell him they don’t get anything from worship. 

I am happy to answer, (says Bem), “That’s great!  Because its not about you.”  Our culture needs a place – we need a place in our lives – to tell us that not everything is always about us, about our personal happiness, our convenience, our frantic timetables, or shrinking commitments.  Some things are bigger than us.  There needs to be a place where we are told uncomfortable truths about ourselves, our world and even about God… (a place) Where we pause and reflect theologically.[3]

 Worship is essential.  Being present for our shared worship is essential.  Christianity will not survive without it.  Worship will not always include chariots of fire or glowing images of prophets.  But, God will always be present, and we seek to capture that presence. 

Worship is not about us; worship is about our praise and thanksgiving to God.  Worship is about awe in the presence of God, feeling in the rush of the passing the stillness of the eternal. 

Isaiah 40:21-31,  1 Corinthians 9:16-23,  Mark 1:29-39,  Psalm 147:1-12, 21c

Two weeks ago we buried the last of my mother’s five sisters.  Aunt Dorothy was gracious with great devotion to those she knew; she loved conversation and could make the simplest story humorous and interesting.  If you were in conversation with her, you were her full focus.  One of my favorites of her stories was her experience of preparing her son, my cousin, Jeff for college.

Other mothers were gathering single bed sheets and towels and notebooks, pens, and paper for their children who were headed to various colleges.  Aunt Dorothy was sewing coat hangers in the tails of tuxedos, constructing brightly colored paper Mache shoes, and purchasing a long list of grease paint supplies.  While other sons and daughters were headed to prestigious halls of academia, her son was going to clown college – he would go on to become one of the select few to make the cut for the “greatest show on earth” – the Barnum and Bailey Circus, fulfilling his lifelong dream of being a circus clown.  For two years , the mile-long circus train would be his home, travelling across country to hundreds of cities, bringing joy to mesmerized children and old folks.

There is truly a mystique in the smell of the grease paint and the roar of the crowd – the life of a circus clown.

In today’s Gospel lesson, Jesus’ ministry is beginning to feel a little bit like a circus.  As we continue our journey as described in Mark’s Gospel; we continue alongside Jesus and his disciples in these early stages of Jesus’ ministry, and we begin to sense the tension of the crowd pressing in on us.  Last week we read the account from Mark’s Gospel of Jesus’ very public rebuke of the unclean spirit as he was preaching in the crowded synagogue in Capernaum.  From that time, crowds grew and began to gather wherever he went.  As we continue in our study of Mark’s Gospel, we will encounter this theme of the crowd again and again.

After casting out the unclean spirit of the man in the synagogue, Jesus and the disciples went to the home of Simon Peter where Simon Peter’s mother-in-law was ill.  In the intimate scene, Jesus cured her and she rose up to serve.  Thus, Peter’s mother-in-law became Jesus’ first deacon.

Afterwards, we read: “the whole city was gathered around the door.  And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons.” – the whole city – really?

With attention to these words, we might sense Jesus’ growing concern.  Jesus knew that his mission was not that of a magician, performing miracles and drawing the shallow adulation of the crowd – though that seemed to be the direction it might be taking.

Jesus knew that his mission was not that of a magician on stage or a clown in the circus; his mission was and is to proclaim the Gospel message – the Good News of redemption and salvation for all creation.  Jesus knew that his mission was not to draw the adoration of the crowd; his mission would be to bring healing salvation to God’s people one-by-one as exemplified in the healing of Peter’s mother-in-law.  He would not go into towns and cities simply to draw crowds and applause and move on; he would touch individuals, take them by the hand, and raise them up.

From the prophet Isaiah:

Those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength,
they shall mount up with wings like eagles,

they shall run and not be weary,
they shall walk and not faint.

One by one, they would walk and not faint.

When Jesus felt his mission seeming to become a circus, he went away while it was still dark to a deserted place to pray.  There in the quiet darkness Jesus would seek the guidance of his heavenly Father – guidance to continue his mission as God had intended – guidance in the face of the encroaching crowds – guidance within the darkness to see the faces of every member of that encroaching crowd, touching them and healing them one-by-one – intimate scenes of touching and speaking.

There is a lovely story recounted by the physician Richard Selzer in his book “Moral lessons, Notes on the Art of Surgery.”

I stand by the bed where a young woman lies, her face post-operative, her mouth twisted – palsy, clownish.  A tiny twig of the facial nerve, the one to the muscles of her mouth, has been severed … To remove the tumor in her cheek, I had cut the little nerve.  The young husband is in the room.  He stands on the opposite side of the bed, and together they seem to dwell in the evening lamplight, isolated from me, private…”Will my mouth always be like this?”  She asks.  “Yes,” I say, “it will.  It is because the nerve was cut.”  She nods and is silent.  But the young man smiles.  “I like it,” he says.  “It is kind of cute.”  He bends to kiss her crooked mouth, and I am so close that I can see how he twists his own lips to accommodate her, to show her that their kiss still works… I hold my breath and let the wonder in.[1]

Our lives can be such as circus; sometimes we feel strangled by the encroaching crowds; we become anxious and exhausted.  Jesus reminds us always to go to God in prayer, to seek his guidance in the darkness, to find his clarity of our call to ministry, to recognize we might be the only view of Jesus Christ that another might see.  One-by-one, away from the roar of the crowd; we need each other’s nearness.

One by one, with God’s help we shall mount up with wings like eagles, run and not be weary, walk and not faint.

Deuteronomy 18:15-20, 1 Corinthians 8:1-13, Mark 1:21-28, Psalm 111

Today’s action takes place in Caperna-um – a village on the shores of the Sea of Galilee that has fertile soil and a prosperous fishing industry.  Appropriately, Capernaum would become the fertile center of Jesus’ Galilean ministry.  Here in Capernaum, as we are told in this morning’s Gospel lesson, when the Sabbath came Jesus goes to the synagogue to teach.  And, even at this early stage of Mark’s narrative, we begin to see the synagogue becoming a symbol of hostility between Jesus and the established leaders.  These leaders will grow increasingly concerned about the powerful actions they witness from this stranger from across the way in Nazareth.

So, let’s imagine the confusion, wonder, and even fear in our setting.  “Just then, there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, and he cried out, ‘What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth?  Have you come to destroy us?  I know who your are, the Holy One of God.’”  [Mark 1:24 NRSV]  Who said that?  What does he mean?  What will Jesus do now?  What will this crazy person do next?

We might, at first, think of this unclean spirit as something morally impure.  But, rather than being interpreted as something immoral or morally unclean, Jewish tradition would interpret the unclean spirit as anything that is opposed to the “holy.”[1]  This unclean spirit is well aware of its opponent.  And, here it is – a force that is opposed to the holy.  Here it is, right here in the synagogue – this sacred space of worship.  And, did this unclean spirit call Jesus “the Holy One of God?”

This unclean spirit coming in opposition to the holy comes in opposition to Jesus – the “holy one of God.”  Wonder and awe possess those standing by watching as Jesus rebukes the unclean spirit, thus, subduing it and expelling it.  There is no physical touch like that that we often visualize in healing or exorcism.  Jesus says, simply, “Be silent, and come out of him!” and the unclean spirit obeys – a true message of the power of this Jesus of Nazareth – power expressed not in his dominance, but in his service.[2]

Jesus rebukes, subdues, and expels the unclean spirit through the power of his mission.  Our focus for today is that ongoing mission – our focus for today and always is to dispel the unclean spirits that oppose this mission of the “holy one of God.”  The opposition is sneaky; the opposition seeks to remain unrecognizable until it has established a hold on us, successfully separating us from our faith journey.

The opposition comes in the form of inhibitions or lack of nerve that limit our sharing of the Gospel message; the opposition comes in the form of corruption of the Gospel message through our self-righteous cruelty to one another; the opposition is expressed in our improper insinuation that God’s grace can and must be earned.

Our focus today is our place in the Body of Christ – serving the world in the name of Christ.  We are not to think of ourselves as serving the church – and certainly not that we are serving the priest.  We ARE the Church serving the world in the name of Jesus Christ.   Jesus Christ is here among us; Jesus Christ is in us wherever we go and in everyone we meet.

Through the mission and ministry of The Church of the Advent lives are changed.  The opposition – the unclean spirit knows this change well; the unclean spirit in opposition to the holy one of God seeks to devour our zeal for ministry and thwart the goals of our mission.  The unclean spirit is well disguised; our constant vigilance is essential.

The psalmist reminds us the Lord’s “work is full of majesty and splendor,
and his righteousness endures for ever.”

To the glory of God, the work of Jesus Christ through us is filled with splendor.  Lives are changed.  The Lord’s righteousness endures forever.

Jonah 3:1-5, 10,  1 Corinthians 7:29-31,  Mark 1:14-20,  Psalm 62:6-14

“The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

With the arrest and imprisonment of John the Baptist, the time has come for Jesus’ ministry to begin with urgency.  Mark tells us quite simply that Jesus came from Galilee and proclaimed the Good News.  

As is characteristic of Mark, we get a lot of important information, immediately, in a little bit of space.  In the first two verses of our Gospel lesson this morning from Mark’s first chapter, we learn that John the Baptist has been arrested, thus bringing his ministry to an end; that Jesus comes from Galilee to begin his ministry; and that the time is fulfilled; the time is now – the right time to repent and believe the good news that Jesus of Nazareth brings. 

In these few short verses that we have just heard, the writer of Mark has set the stage for the miraculous and spectacular transformation – the inbreaking of God into the present for the purpose of redeeming all creation.  It is not that our redemption makes the time “right;” it is that, because the time is the “right” time, we are redeemed.

Mark tells us that the kingdom of God has come near.  What does it mean for the kingdom of God to come near?  Is it the inbreaking of God into our present lives?  Is this what it is to be transformed?  Is that what it is to have our ordinary lives made sacred?

It seems very simple, doesn’t it, as Mark tells the story of the calling of Simon Peter and Andrew and of James and John?  They simply drop their nets and leave their boats to follow Jesus and become his disciples – maybe like the children of Hamlin followed the Pied Piper.  But, how many of us would drop our livelihoods, leave our family and our places in the family business to follow someone about whom we knew so little – or even someone about whom we know a whole lot?  What was it about the transforming power of Jesus’ presence that drew these four ordinary men into this destiny for which they would be known until the end of time?

It’s easy to imagine that Simon Peter, Andrew, James, and John had some inner sense of recognizing Jesus as the Messiah and, thus, followed instinctively without question.  But, we have no way of speculating that they had any inside information or special intuition.  One thing we do know is that the time is the right time – the inbreaking of God, transforming the lives of ordinary men and women. 

Our much-loved Jonah is quite the contrast.  Jonah is an obscure Galilean prophet. Yet, we all know Jonah, don’t we?  Try finding his book among the twelve minor prophets of the Bible.  It is 2½ pages long.  Rather than a more typical book of prophecy, it is an account of the recalcitrant prophet called by God to go to the people of Nineveh to warn them of their destruction if they do not repent and turn to God. 

Nineveh is the capital of Assyria.  Assyria is a pagan nation.   They have threatened the people of Israel with previous invasions.  Jonah is instructed to advocate for their redemption.   But, rather than follow God’s call, Jonah hops a ship to Tarshish – the farthest distance in the opposite direction across the sea – the farthest distance that he could sail away from God.  Jonah runs away, as far away from God as the known world could take him.  But, Jonah could not escape God and God’s time is the right time.

Jonah’s ship encounters difficulties on the voyage.  In trying to save passengers and crew, they toss all the cargo.  The ship, however, remains in distress and it seems that all will be lost.   Finally, when hope of survival is waning, Jonah confesses that he is cause; he volunteers to be tossed overboard; and his shipmates oblige.  But, tossed overboard into the sea, Jonah is scoffed up by a large fish.  Jonah remains in the belly of large fish for three days and three nights.  Jonah prays to the Lord, and as we read in the last sentence of chapter 2, “the Lord spoke to the fish, and it spewed Jonah out upon the dry land.”  The time is right, and Jonah is now ready to listen.   He hears the words that we read as our first lesson today. 

Jonah goes to Nineveh and proclaims God’s message.  “Forty days more and Nineveh shall be overthrown.”  And, the people listen – great and small.  Even the king dons sackcloth and sits among ashes; he instructs that all people and animals would do the same, and that they were to fast, turn from their evil ways, and cry to God for forgiveness.  And, as we learn at the end of our lesson, God changes his mind about Nineveh and the city is saved. 

Jonah tried to run from God; Jonah tried to circumvent God’s time.  But, Jonah was on God’s time and God intervened drastically and persistently.  God does the same when we try to circumvent his time.

Where our English has only one word for time, the rich Greek language has two.   Χρονος, which is the time by which we set our clocks and plan our appointments, is man and history’s chronological time.  Καιροσ, however, is God’s time.  Καιροσ is the inbreaking of God into our daily lives, redeeming God’s creation. 

It is not that our redemption makes the time “right;” it is that, because the time is the “right” time, we are redeemed.

The time was the right time for Simon Peter and Andrew and James and John to become fishers of men – it was God’s time – καιρος.  As hard as Jonah fought it, the time was right – καιρος – for him to be the vehicle for the redemption of the people of Nineveh.

We cannot circumvent καιρος.  In his time, in his way, God is redeeming all creation.  The time is fulfilled; the time is right; we have our place in God’s ongoing story of redemption.  Jesus calls us as he called Peter and Andrew and James and John to be fishers of men. 

1 Samuel 3:1-10(11-20),  1 Corinthians 6:12-20,  John 1:43-51,  Psalm 139:1-5, 12-17

Jesus found Philip and said to him, “Follow me.”

Last week we celebrated Jesus’ baptism.  All four of our Gospel writers include the account of Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan by John the Baptist.  In each case, this is our first glimpse of the adult Jesus, and in each case, this is the first we know of his earthly ministry.  Now, once again, we have begun our yearly journey along with Jesus and his disciples through this earthly ministry.

Today’s Gospel lesson relates the calling of Philip and Nathaniel.  Next week, we will read of the calling of Andrew and Peter and James and John.  Jesus says quite simply, “Follow me,” and they follow and become his disciples.

Jesus saw in Philip – something – something that qualified him to take his place among the twelve disciples that he was to call to share his ministry on earth.  Other than having his name listed among the twelve disciples, we know little of Philip.  He takes on the persona of sort of a killjoy in the few scripture passages that include him.  He was a fisherman accustomed to calculating the profit of his catch.  It would be Philip who would determine that the monetary cost of feeding 5,000 worshipers is not humanly possible.

Extra biblical information suggests that Philip went on to become a great missionary in the areas of Asia Minor as Christianity spread north from Palestine in the decades following the Resurrection and Ascension.  Legend contends that Philip slew a dragon before he was martyred, perhaps by crucifixion on a long cross.  But, all in all, the earthly biblical picture we get of Philip the Apostle is of an ordinary, very human follower of Jesus of Nazareth.  What, then, did Jesus see in Philip?

What does Jesus see in each of us – as he finds us and says, “Follow me”?

Facebook allows me to stay in communication with several of my seminary classmates.  Two of those are a young married couple, both ordained priests, who together were called four years ago to “plant” a church in their home diocese in Oklahoma.

Recently, they posted a video of various members of this church plant known as Grace Church.  We hear from a non-traditional family who express their delight that they finally feel welcomed and embraced in a church family after years of searching and being made to feel unwelcome.  A lovely young woman recounts her earlier struggles of being inquisitive, questioning her faith, asking hard questions, and expressing some doubt about religious teachings.  For these expressions of struggle with faith she had been chastised by the religious leaders of her previous faith tradition.  But, now, in the Episcopal Church, specifically Grace Church, her questioning has been valued and nurtured; she has been encouraged to ask hard questions and, thus, seek greater depth in her faith.

“Follow me,” Jesus says.  I believe the Episcopal Church is strategically well-placed to hear Jesus’ call, to provide a sacred atmosphere of love and healing, a safe place for hard questions, a place where unity doesn’t mean we all agree in thought or style of worship.

Too many people have been driven from the church by sanctimonious religious leaders and congregations seeking to control thought, fearful of tough questions for which they have no textbook answers, retreating to comfort zones that ignore reality.

The Episcopal Church provides order amongst the ever-increasing chaos.  We hold to our structured liturgical worship because it frames and expresses our beliefs and broadens our understanding of our faith in Jesus Christ.  Our worship is intrinsically orderly and meaningful.  Our worship is serious work that brings great joy and greater depth of understanding of what our earthly lives are all about.

Yet, while holding to traditional worship, The Episcopal Church thinks broadly and openly.  This broad acceptance of thought does not mean we are loosie-goosie in our theology and that “everything and anything goes.”  It means we welcome open conversation and exchange of ideas as we seek spiritual guidance in the interpretation of the scriptures and as we seek guidance in the ministries to which each of us is called.  It means we welcome reason.  All, as we love one another as Christ loves us and as we come together again and again in communion at his Holy Table – our common ground regardless of all differences.

Jesus says, “Follow me.”  As his Church, we are called to be a place of welcome and healing especially for those who have been damaged by the very people called to represent Christ in our earthly communities.  Jesus’ harshest words were for religious leaders who misled the people with their self-righteous exploitation of religious belief and practice.

Too many have been shown a God who is filled with vengeance and wrath – a God who is never pleased with us and who glories in punishment.  It is we who are called to bring healing to these injured children of God.

I offer my building contractor analogy:  When we began planning the construction of the guest cottage behind my mother’s home, we were held up for weeks trying to come up with a plan for a septic tank and all proper permits in order to begin building.  At best, it looked as if we were going to have to convert the entire yard to drainage field in order to be in compliance.

For weeks, we heard “No, you can’t do it that way and if you try it you’re subject to fines and even incarceration.”  Potential contractors said, “I can’t really give you any advice, but if you can figure it out and get the permits, call me back and I’ll look at your plans.”  Finally, Jeff the Contractor said, “I don’t have the answer, but come on and get in my truck and let’s ride to the county office and see how we can get this worked out.”

The spiritual journeys of too many of God’s children have been thwarted by those recognized as God’s representatives.  Each of us, as the Church, bears the responsibility to bring healing.  We won’t have all the answers, but we can join our brothers and sisters in their struggle, assuring them that God wants only what is best for each and all of us; God is love.  God’s judgment is real (as is a mother’s judgment for a child who wants to play in the street); but God judges with compassion.

Jesus sees in each of us – something – something unique that he needs for his ministry, something his Church needs to welcome and heal the wounds of those who have been hurt or misled by the teachings and practices of the Church.

Jesus is saying, “Follow me.”  Share the power of the healing love of Christ.

Isaiah 61:10-62:3  Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7  John 1:1-18  Psalm 147 or 147:13-21

“And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory.”

In the weeks to come, we will celebrate the birthdays of late great men in our society – Martin Luther King, Jr.; Abraham Lincoln; and George Washington.  These are men whose birth dates are honored because they grew to become leaders, contributing significantly to our country’s formation and heritage.  I can remember eating cherry tarts in elementary school to commemorate George Washington’s birthday, as we would hear the story repeated of our first president’s integrity in his confession to his father that he did indeed chop down the cherry tree.  He could not tell a lie, we are told.

We should remember and acknowledge the great contributions of our country’s leaders; we should glean wisdom from their life lessons and continue their honorable callings.

It concerns me, however, that we too often acknowledge Jesus’ birth in a similarly simplistic earthly way.  Do we remember Jesus’ birth date every December 25th simply because he grew up to be a great man?  We have some fruitcake and eggnog to celebrate his birthday.  But, do we take time to peel away the distraction of the festivities and see what it’s really all about?

In the Apostle Paul’s letter to the Galatians, he writes that Christ Jesus revealed true faith.  Was Jesus simply a great prophet – a seer and revealer of God’s intentions for all creation? 

We know Jesus of Nazareth as a great teacher who redefined God’s law for us humans, living his life on earth so that we might take up his example in living in relationship with another.  Does that role model end with his earthly death?

We recognize Jesus Christ as our redeemer.  Did God’s intentions for our redemption become possible only due to the birth of Jesus?  Did this plan for redemption begin on December 25 in year 0000?  Did God say, “Ah, this newborn babe in the feeding trough has real potential; now perhaps I can make a plan to redeem creation.”?

Do we define Christmas simply as the birthday of Jesus of Nazareth who just happened to grow up to be a great man?  So, we celebrate with fruitcake and eggnog, and then we move on to the next birthday celebration….

No, the Apostle Paul and the writer of John’s Gospel do not allow us to carry on in this state of ignorance and superficial understanding. 

Jesus’ earthly birth occurred, says the Apostle Paul, “when the fullness of time had come.”  Paul assures us that the birth of Jesus Christ was, from the beginning, all part of God’s plan, in God’s time, on God’s terms.

Jesus’ earthly birth was not a happenstance; and, Jesus did not, simply by coincidence, become a great man.  Jesus Christ is the Word made flesh – God Incarnate.  His earthly birth was an intentional event in God’s divine plan – God’s one story of redemption of all creation. 

John’s inspired words of Good News are clear:  “In the beginning was the Word [big W], and the Word was with God, and the Word was God….  And the Word became flesh and lived among us.”  The Word became the Incarnate Word – the Word made flesh.  There is nothing coincidental or superficial:  God, in his divine eternal plan, in the fullness of time, came to earth, being conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, birthed in a cattle stall because there was no room in the inn.  God came to earth on that first Christmas – the all-knowing, all-powerful, all-present God fulfilled his plan in the birth of Jesus Christ – that’s not just fruitcake and eggnog.

The “Rose e’er blooming from tender stem hath sprung.”  We will sing this beautiful Christmas hymn [#81] as we share communion.  The quietness of this time in our worship will offer you an opportunity to reflect and inwardly digest the words of the hymn.  The words of Verse 3 encompass the Gospel message:

O Flower, whose fragrance tender with sweetness fills the air,
dispel in glorious splendor the darkness everywhere;
true man, yet very God,
from sin and death now save us, and share our every load.

The fragrance of our Lord’s presence fills the air – continues, ever-present, to fill the air and dispel the darkness.

Fully man, yet fully God, our Lord came to earth from heaven on the day we celebrate as Christmas.  He was a great prophet, a great teacher, a great man, but above all the Word made flesh, God Incarnate. 

We can consume the last of the fruitcake and eggnog, pack away the ornaments, and haul the discarded gift wrappings to the curb.  But, that sweet fragrance made possible by the earthly birth of Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh, has redeemed us once and for all time.  Jesus Christ carries our every load every day.

We are none worthy, but we come worthily to share in his Body and Blood, to celebrate our redemption – all according to God’s eternal plan – the Word made flesh, living among us.  We are living members of the Word made flesh.

Isaiah 9:2-7  Titus 2:11-14  Luke 2:1-14(15-20)  Psalm 96

Well, here we are again, kneeling in the hay of the drafty cattle stall; the hay is scratchy but sweet smelling.  Along with the cattle and sheep, we are warmed and mesmerized by the sight we see – the tiny baby snoozing in the animal’s feeding trough.  Can you imagine a more humble birth, and yet, we have faith IN this birth and the impact it continues to have on the world.

We have faith in this newborn; we have faith that this tiny baby is our savior who, through his life, death, and resurrection, redeemed us from our sinfulness.  God has come to earth in the human person of the Son, Jesus Christ – God Incarnate, God in human flesh.  We are gathered here to celebrate because we have faith IN the Incarnation; we have faith IN Jesus Christ, our savior.

But, as we draw nearer, the babe opens his eyes and we see ourselves reflected there; and we understand, there is more.  We are not called simply to have faith IN Jesus Christ; we are called to have the faith OF Jesus Christ.  The calling of Christian discipleship requires us to seek the faith OF Jesus Christ.  The tiny babe has come to earth to live and die as one of us, to show us what it is to have the faith OF Christ – the faith to which we are called.

There’s a wonderful story of a 1966 Children’s Christmas pageant that appeared in a publication of Guideposts and continues to circulate the Internet.  I’ve shared it with you before and I share it again because it is so very filled with messages of the Good News.  It is a story that we can remember and carry with us for reflection as we enter into the season of Christmas.  The story illustrates so well the concept of expanding our faith IN Christ to the faith OF Christ.

The story is of Wallace Purling who was nine at the time and in the second grade though he should have been in the fourth.  Wally was big for his age, described as clumsy and awkward in movement and mind.  He was well liked, a known defender of the underdog, but nearly always the last to be chosen, if at all, for team sports.

For the parish Christmas pageant in this particular year, the director had assigned Wally the part as the surly innkeeper – a part with only a few lines and well-suited for Wally’s large intimidating stature.  The big event arrived, and as the pageant progressed Wally waited off-stage for his cue, mesmerized.  The journalist described the scene:

No one on stage or off was more caught up in the magic of the night than Wallace Purling.  They said later that he stood in the wings and watched the performance with such fascination that Miss Lumbard [the director] had to make sure he didn’t wander onstage before his cue.

Finally, the moment came for Joseph, gently escorting Mary, to knock desperately at the innkeeper’s door.  Wally opened the door to confront the weary travelers who pleaded repeatedly for lodging.  Again and again, their pleas were turned away by the surly innkeeper’s (attempted) gruff and stern responses, “There is no room.”  “Seek lodging elsewhere.”

But, as this discourse continued, Wally’s eyes focused on the character of Mary, skillfully exuding the desperation of the expectant mother heavy with child.  Then, there was an awkward silence as Wally, the innkeeper, struggled distractedly with his final line before he was to slam the door in the faces of the pleading couple.  The director prompted him from offstage, “No.”  “Begone.”  At length, Wally regained his composure and repeated the words of the prompt, “No.”  “Begone.”

These words were the cue for Joseph to place his arm around Mary’s shoulders and begin to move away dejectedly.  As they departed, Wally stared behind them with his big sad eyes.  And, caught up more in the mystery of God’s story of redemption than in this artificial role, rather than slamming the door in disgust as called for in the script, innkeeper Wally’s eyes filled with tears.  To the amazement and/or consternation of the cast and the audience, Wally, departing from his script called out, “Don’t go, Joseph.  Bring Mary back.”  And Wallace Purling’s face grew into a bright smile.  “You can have my room.”

Wally Purling wasn’t just IN the Christmas pageant; Wally was transformed into the faith OF the Christmas mission.

We have come on this holy evening to worship, and as we worship we come to know more of what it is to have the faith OF Jesus Christ.

In a few moments we will participate in the Holy Eucharist – our very first act of Christmas.  Like the Incarnation, we will not simply remember and re-enact the Last Supper of our Lord, we will participate in and partake of the real presence of Christ.  As we come in communion with one another, we live into the Body of Christ; we are transformed – we live into the faith OF Christ.

Christ’s Holy Table is set.  We are invited to take and eat.  C.S. Lewis reminds us, “The command was ‘Take, eat; not Take, understand.”[1]  So, like the Incarnation, it is in our finding of our place in the intricacies of the Holy Eucharist that we come to take on the faith OF Christ.  Bit by tiny bit, the holy mystery is revealed and, like Wally the innkeeper, we experience the real presence of Christ in our midst and in our hearts and in our relationship with one another.  Beyond having faith IN Christ, we are transformed into the faith OF Christ.

Merry Christ Mass in the faith OF Jesus Christ Our Lord.