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Archives for December 2019

A Human Story

December 29, 2019 By Vicar at Mount Olive

Matthew’s account of Jesus’ birth is a complicated human story that is still tragically relevant in our context. The incarnated God is, and always has been, deeply present in the broken places of our world, and God grieves with us every instance of violence and suffering.

Vicar Bristol Reading
First Sunday of Christmas, Year A
Text: Matthew 2:13-23

Matthew’s Gospel is missing all the familiar, sentimental elements of the Christmas story. In Matthew’s narrative about Jesus’ birth, there are no cattle lowing at the manger-side, no surprised shepherds cuddling their sheep, no glorious angels singing alleluia.

Instead there’s a family of scared refugees and a man driven mad by power.

That man was Herod, a Roman-appointed ruler of Judea, the region where Jesus was born. Herod feared the loss of his authority so much that he was willing to do anything in order to eliminate potential rivals. He’d been told there was a new “king,” born in Bethlehem. But, deceived by the visiting magi, he was unable to clearly identify the newborn Messiah, so Herod ordered the execution of all male babies in Bethlehem who were near Jesus’ age. This may have meant the death of some twenty children, an unnecessary and horrifying tragedy.

The holy family, Joseph, Mary, and Jesus, were warned by God of this coming violence, and fled in the night. They ended up in Egypt, of all places, the land where their ancestors had once been enslaved. And they lived there for a few years, until Herod’s death allowed them to return to their homeland. Even then, it wasn’t safe for them to go back to Judea, so they settled in Galilee, a few days’ travel north.

This is the Christmas story in Matthew: a tyrannical ruler, a traumatized community, and a displaced family. Like so many stories in the Bible, it’s a sad and scary story, and it’s a really human story.

From the perspective of the people experiencing all this, it must have been hard to see the bigger picture, to understand how all of their lives were intertwined, to understand why this was the way God’s salvation came into the world.

Mary and Joseph were just starting figure out how to be a family together, when they were called to follow God’s lead into the unknown. Their fates were caught up with the decisions of the Magi, those foreign strangers who decided to defy Herod, at great risk to themselves, in order to protect the holy family. Jesus did survive Herod’s wrath, but many in the Bethlehem community did not. So the fate of those grieving families, too, was caught up in the events of Jesus’ birth.

And the Gospel writer makes it clear that all of these people were part of the longer arc of Israel’s history. In Matthew’s account, we hear echoes of Rachel, the great Matriarch from whom Jesus is descended, and of Pharaoh and Moses. We hear the voices of the Hebrew prophets who longed for the peace and justice a Messiah would bring – a Messiah who has at last been born in Bethlehem.

Matthew evokes these sacred stories, then weaves them together with the narrative of these first century people. The result is a tangle of human stories and relationships.

And at the center of this complicated mess is God, born as a tiny, vulnerable baby, the light in all the darkness. Jesus, God incarnate, is caught up in all this humanness.

From his birth, Jesus’ life is under threat. The Son of Man has no place to lay his head. Jesus’ human existence is marked by suffering, rejection, and violence, start to finish. This is not a savior who shrinks away from the gritty realities of what it means to be human. Christ will embody divine love as a human person. Throughout his ministry Jesus will be a presence of healing, mercy, and compassion among the people he encounters. He will declare that all people, even enemies, are worthy of love.

That commitment to love will eventually get him killed. Although Jesus escapes death as an infant, he accepts death as an adult. He goes to the cross out of love for all creation, and even as he faces death, his words and actions speak forgiveness in response to violence.

God is in the midst of the whole story of human history, not as the cause of suffering but as one who suffers. This means that you don’t have to wonder whether or not the Creator of the universe understands or cares about your suffering because God has suffered – for you and with you. None of the violence in this human story is God’s intention. God’s dream for creation is one of peace; Christ’s kingdom is not of this world.

Perhaps the hardest part about Matthew’s Christmas narrative is how timeless it is. The horrors of this ancient story are painfully familiar to all chapters of history: tyrannical leaders imposing violent rule on poor people, families becoming refugees to protect their children’s future, the senseless death of innocent people. We know these stories in our time, too.

We are closing out a decade during which authoritarian leaders across the world stage enacted oppressive policies,  millions of people became refugees fleeing from violence, and, in our own nation, hundreds of children were shot in their own schools.

Our wailing and lamentation joins that of Rachel, just as the tears of the Bethlehem community did following Herod’s actions. We grieve every instance of suffering, displacement, and violence.

And we know that God grieves them, too. If our hearts break for these things, we can only imagine how much more God’s heart breaks. God doesn’t look away from the cruelties of our world, but comes to be with us in the most broken of places, and to overcome the greatest darkness with the light of love.

When Matthew says that Rachel is weeping for the children she has lost, he is quoting from the book of Jeremiah. And in the book of Jeremiah, Rachel’s cries do not go unanswered: God hears her and God responds with a word of comfort. “There is hope for your future,” says the Lord (Jeremiah 31:17).

There is hope. God’s reminder is that the grief is not the end of the story: there is a future. When the night seems impossibly dark, there is a dawn of tomorrow yet to come. That doesn’t mean there isn’t incredible pain today; it means that, through God, there is hope to hold on to, always. Loss and death are not the end: that truth is part of the incarnation story, too, because resurrection is part of the incarnation story.

The “why” questions of human suffering, loss, and injustice are still with us, as they have been for generations and generations.

All our human stories – past, present, and future – are tangled up with one another, in ways beyond what we can see from our perspective. And as we see in the incarnated Christ, God is not distant from any of it, but deeply present in all of it.

God’s presence is not an answer to all your questions; God’s presence is a constant in the midst of your questioning. In all the complexities and tragedies of the human story, God is there. Matthew’s story begins with Emmanuel, God become human to be with us, and the Gospel ends with these words, spoken by Jesus: “Remember, I am with you always…”

Amen.

Filed Under: sermon

Bear Good News

December 25, 2019 By Vicar at Mount Olive

We are sentinels on the lookout for signs of God’s presence in the world, and we joyfully share the good news of Christ’s presence with the world.

Vicar Bristol Reading
The Nativity of Our Lord
Texts: Isaiah 52:1-3, 6-10; John 1:1-14

Even though we spend four weeks of Advent getting ready for Christmas, it’s hard to really feel ready when Christmas actually gets here. It’s hard to take in the true meaning of this day. Maybe it’s because December is so full of holiday festivities and time seems to speed up as the month goes on. Or maybe it’s because the message of the incarnation gets lost amidst the cultural messages about Christmas.

But set all that aside for a moment, and hear this incredibly good news again: the light of Christ is here, dispelling all the world’s darkness. The light of Christ is here! This is what you’ve been waiting and watching for all Advent. Are you ready for it? What will you do with this news?

If you need a model for how to respond to long-awaited good news, you can look to the Isaiah text we read this morning.

In Isaiah’s context, Israel has been invaded and conquered by a foreign empire, Babylon. The Babylonians have destroyed the holy city of Jerusalem and forcibly exiled many of the Israelite people. Beyond the sheer physical destruction of this war, the people are also suffering spiritually: they’re afraid that God has rejected and abandoned them.

There are some, though, who are hopeful that God will still come and save them. Like sentinels, they keep waiting and watching for a word from God.

Sentinels were in charge of the city’s protection. They stood watch through the long nights, peering into the dark, hoping for dawn. Others could rest in safety because the sentinels were on guard. If the enemy arrived, they would sound the alarm and raise the city from sleep. But they hoped that, instead of attack, they would see deliverance. So they waited.

To be clear: the ancient Israelites waited for God a lot longer than four weeks. They waited for generations.

But eventually, a herald arrived bearing a message from God. Having traveled hundreds of miles over mountainous terrain, the messenger is too tired to manage more than succinct sentences. The Hebrew conveys just single words: “Peace,” “Good News” “Salvation”! This is God’s word for the beleaguered Israelites! Can you imagine how it would have felt to receive this news of victory after so many  years of waiting?

This means the end of war, the end of exile. This means return and rebuilding. It had looked like all was lost, but now this messenger proclaims that God still reigns. No enemy, not even Babylon, is strong enough to defeat God.

Now, the sentinels are ready to respond to this good news. They raise their voices, but instead of calling the people to battle as they’d expected, they call the people to celebration: “Wake up! Get dressed, get going! God is here!” For so many years, their plea had been, “O come and ransom captive Israel,” but now they cry, “Rejoice! Rejoice!” What has been subjugated is made free. What has been broken is made whole. God has spoken, and God’s word proclaims liberation.

The sentinels don’t just tell the good news; they sing it, as loudly and joyfully as they can. Their song is so persuasive that even the ruins of Jerusalem find a voice and join the chorus, and that music can be heard even to the ends of the earth. Everyone everywhere will know that God has been faithful.

Now that’s how you respond to good news: You join all of creation in a mighty anthem of praise to God! You sing a song so joyful that it brings ruined places to life.

This Christmas morning, we’re a long way from ancient Israel, but there are still so many ruined places in our world, even in our own hearts. Babylon, the imperial enemy of the Israelites has long since turned to dust. But, other oppressive empires have arisen in its place throughout the centuries. Other peoples have been exiled. Other nations have faced war. The powers of evil still threaten. The question is still asked in the darkness: Has God abandoned us? Will God come for us?

But, like Isaiah’s sentinels, you have received a message of good news in the midst of a hurting world: God has not abandoned you, and God has come for you, bringing peace, goodness, and salvation!

God has come in a surprising and unexpected way, to be sure. God has come as a baby, the word made flesh as John says, a living, breathing person who dwelt among us and showed us the face of God.

That person brought life and light for all people, even though the world rejected him. Even the enemies of sin and death are not strong enough to defeat God, and no amount of darkness can overcome the light of Christ. Nothing can ever separate you from the love of the Triune God. Emmanuel, God-with-us, means God with all of us, God everywhere, forever. What good news!

So go share this good news!

The promise of the incarnation isn’t only about Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem all those years ago. Christ is still coming into the world, this and every day. All of creation is “charged with the grandeur of God,” as the poet says.¹ God’s presence is everywhere.

You are the sentinels on the lookout for signs of that presence. And when you find it, you are the ones who call out to everyone: “Wake up! See that God is here! And here! And here!”

Do not stay silent: let your words and your actions proclaim what God has done for you. Let your life embody God’s shalom. You have seen God’s face in the person of Jesus, so now you are called to live with the same compassion that Jesus did. You are sent out to do that work of healing and liberating, to be part of God’s mission to bring wholeness and freedom to all people in all places. God’s mission set in motion here at Christmas, with a tiny baby, salvation in the most unlikely way.

You’re ready for this news: you know what to do in response. You celebrate it! You give praise to God with your whole heart, with your most joyful song. The waiting can feel long, but the good news always arrives. God always shows up. God’s love always wins.

Believe that this good news is for you and for all creation: God is here, with you always, and God is bringing you peace, goodness, and salvation. Go bear that news to the world.

Amen.

1. This is a line from Gerard Manley Hopkins’ poem “God’s Grandeur.”

Filed Under: sermon

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