Unity Not Uniformity 1/23/11

Unity Not Uniformity

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce

Community Christian Church

January 23, 2011

                                                                                                Text:  I Corinthians 1:10-18

Paul wrote two letters to the ancient church in Corinth, I and II Corinthians.  Our text today is from the beginning of his first letter to them, I Corinthians 1:10-18.  We begin with verse 10:

Now I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you be in agreement and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and the same purpose.

Paul opens his letter with an appeal to the church at Corinth:  speak with one mind and one purpose.  He goes so far as to say, be in agreement and let there be no divisions among you.  Paul wants a church with no disagreements?  Is he kidding?  Has he ever been to church?  Does that sound like any church you’ve ever been a part of?  Does that sound like this church?  I don’t think so!  Honestly, I don’t think I’d want to be in a church where there are no disagreements.  We might as well be sheep baa-ing while we hurry along in our little herd. 

Of course, in this verse Paul is not talking literally about absolute conformity.  And that becomes more and more clear when you read the rest of his letters to the church at Corinth.  He does not think that believers must all have identical views on all things or that they must walk in lockstep.  On the contrary he values the distinctiveness of people and appreciates their differences of gifts and graces (I Cor. 14).  He expects believers to make a range of acceptable but different moral choices (I Cor. 12). 

Several references are made to the conflict at the church at Corinth.  What were they arguing about at Corinth?  It likely was not about big issues like doctrine or ideology.  Probably they bickered about petty things.  They couldn’t decide on what color the carpet should be or if they should use organ or piano (or God forbid, drums).  Should the choir wear robes?  Should people clap in church?  They argued about things like this and jealousy and competitiveness came into play.  Paul hopes that these petty disagreements not escalate into full-scale splits in the church.  In this verse, he’s saying that what unites them ought to be far more powerful than what pulls them apart.

¹¹For it has been reported to me by Chloe’s people that there are quarrels among you, my brothers and sisters.

He refers by name to a woman, Chloe.  We don’t know much about who she was.  When you think of famous biblical figures, Chloe is not the first person who comes to mind.  She may have been a businessperson whose agents, possibly her slaves traveled and carried word of the church to Paul. 

¹¹For it has been reported to me by Chloe’s people that there are quarrels among you, my brothers and sisters. ¹²What I mean is that each of you says, “I belong to Paul,” or “I belong to Apollos,” or “I belong to Cephas,” or “I belong to Christ.” ¹³Has Christ been divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of Paul?

For Paul, the mark of Christians is supposed to be unity in Christ.  Yet, in Corinth, there are different camps of loyalty.  People were aligning with different personalities, with Paul himself, Apollos, Cephas (Peter).  The unity that they shared in Christ was being dissolved in favor of human loyalty.  Paul even scolds those who say they belong to Christ.  Isn’t that funny?  If you’re going to belong to anybody, shouldn’t it be Christ?  Haven’t they got it right?  No.  Paul is saying they may have the right name, but they have the wrong spirit.  They are declaring their allegiance to Christ in order to put themselves above another.  Their professed loyalty to Christ is not that of a humble servant but of a bragging, quarrelsome superior.  There are still folks like this today who use the name of Christ to assert their superiority.

¹⁴I thank God that I baptized none of you except Crispus and Gaius, ¹⁵so that no one can say that you were baptized in my name. ¹⁶(I did baptize also the household of Stephanas; beyond that, I do not know whether I baptized anyone else.)

Honestly, this is a little funny.  Paul’s saying, You’re a mess!  I’m so happy I didn’t baptize any of you!  Oh well, I guess I did baptize Crispis and Gaius, but no one else can say I baptized them.  Oh, yeah, and there was the household of Stephanas, I forgot about them, but that was it!  Well, actually, now that I think about it, I don’t know if I baptized anyone else or not. You Christians all look alike….

Perhaps with this verse, Paul is acknowledging that it’s natural to feel a strong attachment to the person who baptized you.  We do this too.  We connect deeply with a particular pastor or a mentor.  Paul is saying that there’s an inherent danger that those whom he baptized could mistakenly construe their relationship with Christ as essentially a relationship with Paul or with someone else who baptized them. 

¹⁷For Christ did not send me to baptize but to proclaim the gospel, and not with eloquent wisdom, so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its power. ¹⁸

It’s when I read passages like this that I love Paul.  It’s rare to find a leader who has the humility to say, listen, I’m nothing special.  I don’t have any eloquent wisdom.  There’s no way you could listen to me and be compelled to do anything.  Paul’s saying, it’s a good thing I’m not so great because now you know that power comes through Christ, not me.  I’m not so sure I agree with him about his lack of eloquence but I find his self-deprecating manner refreshing. 

As we continue reading I Corinthians, we learn more about how Paul sees the people.  Some of them are blown away by brilliant speeches; others are more impressed by knowledge; some are awestruck by their own gifts; some yearn for power and social status.  Paul says, all of these things can actually detract from Christ; they can render the “cross of Christ” meaningless. 

What precisely does Paul mean by “the cross of Christ”?  For Paul, the “cross of Christ” is shorthand for the whole story of Christ’s death and resurrection as a sign of God’s grace and caring for human beings. 

For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.

Here Paul is saying that the Corinthians, by their very divisiveness essentially risk emptying the cross of its power.  If you value things like cultured speech and social status, then the cross will seem like a symbol of weakness and folly.  You just won’t get it.  You won’t understand the true power shown in a life like Christ lived. 

It’s easy for me to see how this ancient letter connects to us today.  I could tell you many stories of churches whose petty divisions over inconsequential matters ballooned into huge, church splitting conflicts.  You’ve probably got your own stories.  Or I could ask you if you see yourself or this church reflected in this passage.  There are examples I can think of, though naming them in a sermon is probably not the best idea. 

It’s important that we not confuse Paul’s appeal for Christian unity with uniformity.  To be of the same mind and judgment does not require us to be identical in our beliefs.  Disagreements are good!  They reveal God’s restless spirit at work.  Disagreements mark the difference between a church and a cult.  Indeed the true test of Christian unity is the ability to disagree in our understanding of truth without compromising our ultimate loyalty to Christ and to each other. 

Of course, expressing our differences of opinion without compromising our unity as the body of Christ can be dicey business.  Some guidelines can help to clarify.  For example, if your opinion is so deeply held that you must enforce it at all costs or if you have trouble respecting or even tolerating another’s different opinion, those should be warning signs that you’re on the wrong track. 

On the other hand, if you can use your voice to encourage civil discourse, do it.  You have a responsibility when conflict starts to escalate to do what you can to introduce a spirit of gentleness and reconciliation to the conversation.  Or when you find yourself especially intent on expressing your opinion, stop and listen instead.  Never speak negatively about another person.  Never. 

Healthy communication can lead to a culture where everyone is safe to disagree and yet live in respect for one another.  Churches are not the only places that often lack the practice of respectful, honest dialogue.  Certainly in the realm of politics we’ve seen ugly examples of inflammatory, angry, threatening speech.  It’s not clear to what extent that kind of speech contributes to violent acts in our society at large but I bet Paul would have something to say about it if he were alive today.

But in this passage, Paul is speaking to a church – first to a specific church in Corinth though we can extend his wisdom here to all churches: let us be united in the same mind and the same purpose.  It’s not easy to be in unity in the church and even harder to be in unity with the larger body of Christ, with Christians everywhere.  But it is a worthy pursuit.  Christ is one and we are one in him.  Therefore, our life together as a church must reflect the oneness we have in Christ.  We are not here to promote any individual.  We are here to realize the kingdom of God in our midst – in our own lives, in this church and in our broken world.  And this we will do, with the help of God.

Amen.

"What Are You Looking For?" 1/16/11

What Are You Looking For?

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce

Community Christian Church

January 16, 2011

Last week our text was the baptism of Jesus as told in the gospel of Matthew.  Today, the lectionary gives us a gospel text from John.  You might recall that Jesus’ baptism appears in all four gospels.  Today our passage from John picks up the day after John has baptized Jesus.  John chapter 1 beginning in verse 29:

The next day he saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! ³⁰This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’ ³¹I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel.” ³²And John testified, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. ³³I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’ ³⁴And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God.”

John packs a lot into his impromptu testimony.  Jesus is “the lamb of God who takes away” the world’s sin.  Jesus existed before John – he came before me, John says.  Jesus bears the Holy Spirit.  He is the son of God. 

We remember, of course, that the gospel of John is the last gospel written of all the gospel accounts included in the Bible.  Mark came first, then Matthew and Luke, and John was written last, perhaps as much as 70 years after Jesus’ crucifixion.  So it’s quite likely that John the Baptist did not, himself, understand Jesus with this lengthy description that is attributed to him in this passage, but rather this view of Jesus reflected the theology about Jesus that had formed by the time John was written.  Nonetheless, these are important theological assertions that deserve attention.  I’m not, however, going to preach about them today.

As I prepared my sermon this week, the next part of the passage grabbed my attention.  And since that’s what grabbed my attention, that means you’re stuck with it too.  John chapter 1 continues with a description of the next day, meaning the day after the day after Jesus’ baptism.  We continue reading chapter one in v. 35.

³⁵The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, ³⁶and as he watched Jesus

walk by, he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!”

³⁷The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. ³⁸When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher), “where are you staying?” ³⁹He said to them, “Come and see.” They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon. ⁴⁰One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. ⁴¹He first found his brother Simon and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated Anointed). ⁴²He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, “You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas” (which is translated Peter.)

I want to point out some aspects to these verses.  First of all, look back at v. 35, “The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples.”  The story that follows is about how Jesus called his very first disciples to follow him.  In the other gospels, Jesus calls his followers differently.  In Matthew’s gospel, there’s the story of Jesus walking by the Sea of Galilee and he sees two fishermen, Simon Peter and Andrew.  In Matthew’s gospel, the two brothers are casting their net into the sea when Jesus walks by and says, If you follow me I’ll make you fishers of people.  They immediately drop their nets and follow Jesus. 

In John’s version of Andrew’s call, Andrew is described, not as a fisherman, but as one of John’s disciples.  Isn’t that interesting?  Jesus’ first disciples, according to this passage, were already disciples of someone else.  They weren’t new to the disciples business.  They were already disciples of John.  And because of John’s testimony, because of how John spoke of Jesus, Andrew and the other un-named disciple (who some speculate might have been John), turned to follow Jesus.  This tells us something about John the Baptist.  He is true to his word that his purpose is to announce the coming of Jesus and he appears to let his disciples go when Jesus shows up.  Usually when someone has disciples following him, he’s not quite so easy with letting them go to follow another. 

Jesus wises up that he’s being followed.  (It’s funny to think about, the picture of Jesus sort of looking over his shoulder – what – nervously?  With curiosity?  With annoyance?  Who knows.)  For whatever reason, Jesus turns around and says, “What are you looking for?”  This simple, direct question goes to the heart, doesn’t it? 

What are you looking for?  Sometimes a line from scripture jumps out for its simplicity and clarity.  What are you looking for?  With Jesus’ question he invites the two men to some self-reflection.  What exactly is it that you want?  What makes you think you’ll find it following me?  Haven’t you found what you’re looking for by being John’s disciples? 

In Jesus they sense something worth following but the response of the two men is a bit random.  If someone asked you, “What are you looking for?” do you think you’d say, “Where are you staying?”  It’s like they are engaged in completely different conversations.  Why do you suppose tis behind the disciples ask Jesu, “Where are you staying?”  Are they being friendly, trying to engage the so-called “Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world” in some friendly banter?  What other questions for Jesus did these sparkling conversationalists have in mind?  Hey, what kind of music do you like?  Are you dating anyone?  What’s your sign?

Maybe the two men are more perceptive than I’m giving them credit for.  Maybe, like many of us, they are looking for more – more meaning, more purpose, more truth than they have found before.  They sense that the “more” they are seeking can be found in “staying” with Jesus; in learning how Jesus lives;  how this man is able to be so filled with peace and clarity with such power to heal. 

Jesus, of course, is willing to show them exactly what they want to see.  He responds, “Come and See.”  It is a simple invitation that echoes in our ears still today.  For like those disciples, Jesus calls us to identify what we’re looking for.  Exactly what are we doing with our lives?  What are we seeking? With all of the activity we’re engaged in every day from the morning alarm to brushing our teeth before we turn in for the night – what are we doing?  What are we looking for?  And we all gather here, in a church, because we sense in Jesus the Christ someone, something that compels us to follow, to go deeper, to get closer.

Just as Jesus responded, “Come and see,” to his disciples, he speaks to us.  Do you want more in your life?  Come and see.  His invitation is for all of us; all who wish to grow deeper in our faith or who long for more meaning in our lives.  Jesus says to us, Come and see.

It’s interesting to note that when the disciples ask Jesus, “Where are you staying?” Jesus does not answer their question directly.  He says, “Come and see.”  In other words, he issues an invitation that will allow them to find the answer for themselves. 

We seek more for our lives.  Maybe we want answers, a point-by-point plan, a voice from heaven with clear instruction; a lightning bolt to accompany it would be nice.  We’ll never get that from God.  But we can count on a standing invitation to dwell with the holy, to stay with Christ, and if we follow, to find the answers for ourselves.

What are you looking for?  Come and see.

The Difference of Baptism 1/9/11

The Difference of Baptism

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce
Community Christian Church

January 9, 2011

Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by John. ¹⁴John would have prevented him, saying, ‘I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?’ ¹⁵But Jesus answered him, ‘Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.’ Then he consented. ¹⁶And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. ¹⁷And a voice from heaven said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved,^* with whom I am well pleased.”                                                                                             Matthew 3:13-17

The story of Jesus’ birth is found in only two of the canonical gospels.  By that I mean that of the four gospels included in our Bible, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, only Matthew and Luke include the story of Jesus’ birth.  In contrast, all four gospels contain a story of Jesus’ baptism.  And a close reading of each account indicates that all four gospel writers are a bit uncomfortable with the baptism of Jesus. 

Think about it.  The gospel passages clearly connect baptism with repentance of sin.  At the time the gospels were written some 20-50 years after Jesus’ crucifixion as Jesus’ followers were continuing to form their ideas about who Jesus was and the significance of his life and death, the early church was concerned with this question.  Was Jesus God?  If so, was Jesus without sin?  If so, then why did he come to John seeking baptism?  It could be said that the event of Jesus baptism might lessen the claims that Jesus had been God.

The fact that an account of Jesus’ baptism shows up in all four gospels is the surest indication that it really happened because if someone tells you something that is not in their best interest for you to know, then you can be reasonably sure that it is the truth.  If Jesus wanted to participate in the experience that would become fundamental to Christians, couldn’t he have stood on the shore and offered words of encouragement to those going into the water?  Couldn’t he have held out his hand to those who struggled out of the river in their heavy wet clothes?  He didn’t need to enter the water himself unless it was to tap John on the shoulder and say, “Hey, you go rest.  I’ll take over for a while.” 

Our account in Matthew tells a remarkable story.  Imagine it, Jesus walking miles through the desert to find John, intent on being baptized; John resisting, Jesus insisting until John agreed; then as Jesus emerged from the water, the heavens opening up and Jesus’ seeing the spirit of God descending on him accompanied by a voice saying, “This is my beloved son with whom I am well pleased.”  Sounds pretty dramatic and if you watch any movie about Jesus from The Greatest Story Ever Told to Jesus of Nazareth you’ll see vivid and moving depictions of this event.

I do believe that whenever anyone is baptized, infant or adult, something happens that, at least metaphorically, is like what Matthew tells us happened to Jesus.  For baptism, in our tradition, is a ritual, an opportunity to claim that the baptized, each and every one of them, is loved and claimed by God. 

Do you remember your baptism?  Maybe you were baptized as an infant and can’t recall how you felt afterwards, but if you were baptized as an adult or if you confirmed your infant baptism as an adult, what was it like?  Did you feel different afterwards?  Has it made a difference in your life in the years since it happened?

We’re going to see a film clip from a 1983 films, Tender Mercies.  It’s a wonderful film set in Texas about an alcoholic former country singer played by Robert Duvall who makes friends with a young widow, played by Tess Harper, and her young son.  The scene we’re about to see represents a key event for Duvall that helps to set his life in a more healthy direction.  (Show clip 1:03:46 -   1:06:08)

Maybe baptism for you was a life changing, dramatic, deeply spiritual event, more like Jesus’ baptism; something that you recall now with the certainty that you have never been the same from that moment on.  Or maybe your baptism was more like it was for Robert Duvall’s character and his young friend; something that felt good, something you’re glad you did, but it didn’t leave you feeling dramatically different than you did before you were baptized.  Maybe you looked in the mirror and said, “Hm, I don’t look any different.  I don’t feel much different.” 

Though baptism is a sacrament that can have tremendous meaning in a person’s life, I don’t believe that our eternal salvation, whatever we understand that to mean, is contingent on it.  Some traditions believe this, of course, and so when, for example, an infant is sick and close to death, some would feel that it’s very important to baptize her so that if she dies, she’ll go to heaven.  I don’t see baptism in that way and it’s likely you don’t either.  So, if it doesn’t save you from the fires of hell, what difference does baptism really make?

Had we continued watching Tender Mercies, the very next scene takes place in a small bar where Robert Duvall’s character, a washed up old country singer, is performing for the first time after his career hit the skids.  It’s a modest come back, just a few locals listening. Tess Harper and her son are sitting in the audience.  And if you listen carefully to the song, it speaks to the beauty of one very powerful aspect of baptism.  Duvall sings, “If You’ll Hold the Ladder, I’ll Climb to the Top.”  It’s a song that expresses the beauty of living in relationship with another; of being deeply connected with other people, with people who will hold the ladder for you when you need help; people who you can support when they need it, adding meaning and value to your life. 

In baptism, we offer ourselves to God and God claims us.  And in baptism we connect with a community of people, like the people of this church.  As we travel through our lives, the companions on our journey have such power to enrich our experiences, to draw us closer to God, to connect us to the holiness of human relationships with all of their foibles and their gifts.  Take a moment to look around you.  Being a part of the body of Christ means that these people are your companions.  They have promised to be here for you for at baptism the congregation promises to support you.  In our church, after someone has been baptized, the congregation stands and says, “We promise to take you into our love, our prayers and our daily lives as we together strive to build a community rich in the spirit of God to nurture each other.”  And, of course, if you have been baptized, you, in turn have promised to be there for them.  And the whole glorious mess of us wrapped up together is the body of Christ.  We are the flawed, imperfect, in-process, beautiful body of Christ.

What difference does baptism make?  Well, I guess that’s up to each of us to decide.  For me, the difference is the people I am deeply connected to.  For me, it is all of you.  Amen.

Reflection on a New Year - 1/2/11

New Year’s Reflection

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce

January 2, 2011

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  He was in the beginning with God.  All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.  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. 

The true light which enlightens everyone was coming into the world.  He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him.  And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory.  John 1:1-5, 9

At the turn of a new year, it’s appropriate to pause; to look back on the past year with its joys, accomplishments, pain, and struggle.  Maybe you’re the kind of person who has already done that, but in case you’re not that kind of person and, like many of us during the holidays you are pretty much just hanging on for dear life with little time to reflect, we’re going to take a moment now.  What was 2010 like for you?  Consider what you were doing a year ago at this time – at your work, whatever that is, with your friends or family.  What did you do last new year’s day?  How did you spend your birthday in 2010?  What brought you joy during the year?  What caused you pain.  What did you do and who did you spend time with?  What about this past Christmas.  Did you get what you wanted?  Were you happy with what you gave?  Take a moment to remember, and, if it’s helpful, to jot down notes to help you recall.  (Silence)

It’s been said that the way we understand our lives is to develop a story around them.  We have a certain idea of who we are and what our lives are like.  And then we remember those things that are consistent with that story and we don’t notice the things that are inconsistent with that story.  For example, maybe 2010 held some significant struggles for you, and when I asked you to recall what the year was like, the events that were consistent with struggle jumped readily into your mind.  You thought of when you were sick without realizing the many days you felt well.  You remembered when someone you loved was hurting without considering that most of the people you love enjoyed very positive experiences in 2010.  We fail to see the totality of our life experiences because we elevate the importance and the impact of certain events.  We see our lives through a lens that we create by the story we decide to tell about ourselves.

Here’s another example to further illustrate.  On New Year’s Eve, Lisa and I spent the night at the Dimitri house.  It’s a small local shelter for men who currently have no homes of their own.  Fran Morse is the director of Dimitri house and it runs largely on the support of volunteers.  There are seven beds for the guests and two volunteers spend the night every night.  It’s a wonderful opportunity to hang out with some really interesting and appreciative folks who stay there.

Last Friday night, the shelter guests began arriving around 9, when Dimitri house opens.  A few came in and went right to bed.  One man sat quietly reading a book.  Another brought a few liters of pop to share with everyone.  Lisa and I brought dominos along and spent the couple of hours before lights out playing dominos with some of the guys and chatting with others.  The diversion of the game offered an easy opportunity to talk with the men about where they were from, who their favorite sports teams were, how much we were enjoying the surprisingly warm weather.  The conversation was upbeat.  We were laughing about some aspect of the game when one of the guys said, “Wow, this is fun!”

11:00 lights out came along and everyone got settled for the night.  I slept on a little futon by the front door and, aside from a lot of police sirens outside around midnight (Dimitri house is right at the inner loop and Main Street; not a great part of town and it was New Year’s Eve), our night inside Dimitri house passed without any incidence.  The 5:45 alarm came early and Lisa and I got up to fix breakfast. 

The shelter’s policy is that the men have to leave by 7 AM and so, one by one, after breakfast they got their stuff together and with a final “thank you” and “happy new year,” headed out.  One took a few oranges in his pockets for a snack later.  Another was happily on his way to a spot he’d staked out where he could watch some football later in the day.  One guy sat drinking coffee with us, perhaps reluctant to leave.  Without exception they were polite and very thankful for a warm bed and a full stomach and they looked forward to returning that night to Dimitri house.

All in all it was one of the most memorable new year’s eve’s I’ve ever celebrated and I look forward to volunteering again.  (And since they’re always looking for more volunteers, if you’re interested in trying this yourself I highly recommend the experience and would be happy to talk more with you about it.)

As Lisa and I reflected on our night there, I began to wonder how volunteers remember their shift at Dimitri house?  I suppose some might feel sad at coming face to face with the reality that there are people right here in Rochester who have no home.  We all know this, of course, but it seems more real when you put a face with that reality.  There are people who go to sleep hungry; people to whom being able to find a place just to sit on the couch and watch a football game is a luxury.  Yes, that’s one way of telling the story of Dimitri house.

Here’s another way to tell the story.  You might see these men for the unique individuals they are, many of them upbeat and resilient in the midst of very difficult circumstances.  You might actually feel happy that these seven guys have a comfortable place to stay during all those cold Rochester nights; a place they can come and shower and get fed a good meal and be treated with respect and kindness.  Some volunteers might realize how enriched their lives are because they’ve had the chance to get to know these guys, who are likely outside the circle of their regular group of friends.  In other words, some might see the whole encounter with Dimitri house as being completely illuminated by the light of Christ.  The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.

Next week, the church year enters the season of Epiphany with its focus on the light of Christ that illuminates the darkness.  I’m not big on new year’s resolutions.  I like how Mark Twain put it when he said, that the new year “is the accepted time to make your annual regular resolutions.  Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual.”  But this year, I am making a new year’s resolution.  I resolve, to the best of my ability and with the help of God, to see with epiphany eyes.  By that I mean that I resolve to look for the light in everything, in everyone, I encounter.

The way we understand the stories of our lives matters.  Epiphany eyes can help us see the same old realities in new ways.  Epiphany eyes can help us to see people differently and experiences differently.  Epiphany eyes help us to modify our stories. 

For we are all storytellers, writing the chapters of our lives every single day.  From what perspective will we write?  As a victim, a lover, one angry or one softened by beauty.  In the coming year, what will we write and what will be read by the likes of those around us?  Not on our tombstones, but in our emerging, living story right now?

Now we stand on the cusp of a new year.  What experiences will it hold for you?  How will you understand and remember the things you encounter in the coming year?  None of us knows what 2011 will hold, but we may be assured that somehow our futures are all held in holy hands and the light of Christ will shine. 

Please join me in the unison prayer for the new year printed in your bulletin:

Many: Creative God, you make all things new in heaven and on earth. 

We come to you in this new year with new desires and old fears,

new decisions and old controversies,

new dreams and old weaknesses. 

Because you are a God of hope,

we know that you create all the possibilities of the future. 

Because you are a God of love,

we know that you accept all the mistakes of the past. 

Because you are the God of our faith,

we enter your gates with thanksgiving and praise,

and we serve and bless you.  Amen.

We usually sing a song after the sermon and before we offer ourselves to God in the morning offering and the Lord’s Supper.  Today, instead of singing, we’re going to simply sit and listen prayerfully to a song by Mary Chapin Carpenter, Come Darkness, Come Light.  (The words are printed in your bulletins.)  This song is a reminder that God loves us unconditionally; that God takes us just as we are; that no matter where we are on our journeys, God welcomes us.  The light of Christ has come.

Sermon for Sunday, January 2, 2011

Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in Thy sight O Lord our Rock and our Redeemer, Amen.

Picture it: A dark night, the end of a week long trip with only a donkey for transportation, a young teenage mother, 8 ½ months pregnant goes looking for a place to sleep for the night. Due to their social status she and her husband have arrived after more mobile members of this town to take place in a census. They’ve returned to her husband’s hometown. For whatever reason, perhaps connected to the fact that he married a young woman who was already with child, a child that was not his, no family member steps up to offer them shelter. Despite their lack of money as Jewish citizens in a Roman ruled society, they try the inns of the town. It is left up to us to guess whether there really were no rooms or if the patrons of the town simply did not want to let them stay there. Either way, they end their long travel sleeping on hay among the stable animals of the inn owner. My grandfather raised beefalo for most of my life. I can tell you from experience, that no matter how diligent the farmer or inn owner, barns and stables are not the cleanest places, and you don’t want to be in the way of an angry or hungry cow, that’s a story for another time. So when this couple realized that the young woman was to deliver her child that night, with no midwife, no sterile cloths, no bed, no anesthesia, we can only imagine her feelings about this. My guess is that no matter how devout she was, she was not singing God’s praises at this time. By some miracle, she delivers a healthy baby boy. She and her husband clean out the manger, where the animals’ food was stored and place their child there, wrapped in cloths they must have had the foresight to bring. My guess is that at this point in time, she is so tired and possibly downtrodden by her experience, that she is unable to lift her voice in celebration. So we are told that God sends angels to earth to shout glad tidings and sing Glorias.

This describes Mary and Joseph, as you well know. It could describe many couples 2000 years ago, and sadly with very little tweaking, it could be a tale of many of modern-day refugees, poor, outcast, and marginalized people. There are too many in this world whose only wish is to leave it. They feel alone, challenged by bullying, believing they will never be accepted as they are, feeling hopeless in the face of economic hardship, weighed down by addiction or depression, or physically too ill to enjoy life. For those of us not in these places, it can be hard to keep up communication and encouragement. It is very easy at the holiday season to fall into two patterns. In one, we get so caught up in our own lives; buying presents, making travel plans, cooking, cleaning, and going to parties that we can forget the message behind Christmas. On the other hand, we often get overwhelmed with the amount of suffering in the world; the homelessness, wars at home and abroad, desperation and despair of those all around us that we can forget that Christmas is a celebration as well as a call to living new lives in the path Jesus followed.

It is at these times that passages like Psalm 148 can be essential. For many it is less challenging to focus on the psalms of praise and ignore the more difficult passages of the Bible, these psalms are a standby when the road ahead is unclear. I believe if we look closer, we will find that this psalm speaks of the radical power of God that is present during good times and bad and so far beyond comprehension that not only the human race, but the very elements themselves must cry out God’s praises. Walter Bruggeman, a prominent Old Testament theologian, puts it this way in his book The Message of the Psalms, “All these prayers and songs bespeak the intervening action of God to give life in a world where death seems to have the best and strongest way. The songs are not about the “natural” outcome of trouble, but about the decisive transformation made possible by this God who causes new life where none seems possible.” By no means was Jesus’ birth the natural outcome of his day. Infant mortality was at a staggering rate, the sanitary conditions of his birth left much to be desired, his mother as a pregnant unwed teenage girl was lucky not to have been stoned. Where do we see the new life Bruggeman refers to more clearly than in the Birth Story? And not only were the angels reminding the parents of the miracle of life, all creation joined in the song. We are told of a star bright in the sky, the creatures whose home they shared for the night providing warmth and shelter, and those who heard of the birth from lowly shepherd to mighty Kings of the Orient rejoiced. They reminded this young couple of the Good News that each new life brings and that this little baby signified.

For many on the margins of society today, the angel’s clarion call is desperately needed. We who have faith and the ability to sing alleluias to God are to be God’s voice in the wilderness of their lives. For the poor, the meek and lowly, we may be the only angel voices that they hear. We must sing the glorias and the alleluias the psalmist entreats us to in Psalm 148. Let us recount the Creator’s works. Let us remind those for whom all seems dark and dreary that there are miracles happening all the time, that just as the little baby, born against all odds, signified new life where none seemed possible, God is always working in our lives to make them better and more blessed. So let us sing a glad halleluiah for all those who live in darkness and oppression, let us sing a glad alleluia we who have been through the valley of death and can now see the beauty of life, and let us sing a glad alleluia who have never been in these places and hope that no one ever shall be. Let our voices raise to the sky the angel chorus, Glory to the God and on earth peace to all.

- Guest pastor Julia Hickman-Himes