Mary smuggled God, smuggled Love Incarnate, into the world in her own body. Now you can, too, until Love has brought all things into God’s heart.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Eve of the Nativity of Our Lord
Texts: Luke 2:1-20; but using 1 Corinthians 13 and John 1 and Genesis 1 as the core.

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Love is patient. love is kind.

Love is not envious . . . or boastful . . . or arrogant . . . or rude.

Love does not insist on its own way; love isn’t irritable or resentful.

Love doesn’t rejoice in wrongdoing – love rejoices in the truth.

Love bears all things, trusts all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never ends. (1 Corinthians 13:4-8a)

But that means:

Love is extremely vulnerable. Love gets taken advantage of.

Love will not fight fire with fire, so love will get burned.

Love will not use force against force, power against power, so love will be hurt, sometimes even killed.

So: if you are the Triune God, a being whose identity is relationship, whose breath is love within yourself, between Father, Son, and Spirit, whose life together is one and yet three, lived in a dance of love, and you long to share that love, what do you do?

You take a great risk and open a space within your life, your dance, your love, for a universe.

In creating all things, God made room within the Triune dance for a rich, diverse, ancient, and awesome beauty, room for stars and galaxies, creatures and dark matter, planets and comets, water and earth and fire and air, a universe beyond our imagining.

And God said, “this is good.” And the plan we have heard is that all along, from that first “this is good,” the Triune God hoped to draw this universe, this creation, even this tiny planet, into the life of God, into the dance.

Love, patient, kind, never-ending, would be the song the universe would sing in harmony with the Creator.

But in this, another great risk couldn’t be avoided.

For love to be what it is in God’s heart, it must be freely given and received, chosen and lived. If Love at its center will not force its own way, then this universe must be given freedom to be. To choose. To live.

Even if that universe, or even just one species on one tiny planet on the edge, decided not to love, not to join the song, not to enter the dance, this was the only way love as the Triune God lives it could be truly love for the creation, too. The dance is what it is, and must be freely chosen.

So, as witnesses of faith have spoken for millennia, have written in our holy Scripture, God continues to reach out to draw all creation, all things, into God’s heart, God’s life. To join the dance of love.

But – and this is really important for you tonight – what will God do with those who refuse the dance, who turn from the love? Who put up walls of hatred and division against their own people? Who build systems to crush some of God’s children while benefiting others? Who live lives that seem only interested in themselves, not in joining the dance of God, the dance of creation, the dance of love?

How could the Triune God, not willing to break the way of love, break through walls, and dismantle systems, and draw back into God’s heart a species that seemingly doesn’t want to be there?

Well, God does what we humans have learned to do in the same situation: God sneaks in.

Even in our broken world, life finds a way in where it seems blocked. People sneak things across borders, sneak people across. Things are hidden, brought in, and revealed. We learned this from God.

Because from the beginning of our human existence, when it was clear we were not going to love each other or God, God started sneaking in. Talking to individual people and revealing love and mercy. Abraham and Sarah, Moses, the prophets. God found ways to get the word into the world.

But tonight we rejoice at the fullness of God’s plan here. If we would not be drawn into God’s heart, God would have to enter our world in person. To show Love’s goodness by sharing our existence. To be a face, a voice, a Love we could follow back to God.

In short, as a wise theologian has said, “Mary smuggled God into the world in her own body.” ¹

Mary smuggled God in. And God, as we have said, is love. Patience, kindness, joy, endurance, hopefulness, truth, without ending. Mary smuggled the Triune Love into the world in her own body. And that changed everything.

Because if you are the Triune God who made all things, you know how those things work.

You know that single drops of water can wear great canyons out of the hardest stone. That a tiny seed stuck in the crack of the greatest wall will grow a plant that will break that wall apart. That if even the life and love of God were absorbed in the power of death, that heart of life and love would break death itself apart into nothing.

So, Mary smuggled God into the world in her own body. And suddenly love’s inside the wall, a part of the system, sneaking into hearts and minds, and changing them. Being that seed growing inside the wall and eventually breaking it apart, that bug in the system that eventually brings it to its knees. Even ending death.

In this baby, God, Love Incarnate, smuggled never-ending patience, kindness, joy, truth, endurance, hope, humility, into a world to plant those seeds. So that such love would grow and eventually win over this species of God’s children, and bring this planet into the great dance of the universe in God.

So, my friends, what do you want to do with this grace?

Our brother Paul of Tarsus heard the song and sang us the shape of this Triune Love in words we can understand. And even live. Patience. Kindness. Joy. No arrogance, no boasting. Just truth, and trust, and never-ending, enduring, love.

Might you be willing to smuggle God into the world in your own body yourself?

It’s risky, of course. Love is vulnerable, can be hurt. You might get taken advantage of. But your holy and Triune God says, “join the club – that’s what happens for me, and will for you.”

But in this mystery of God, when you smuggle God in, Love becomes Incarnate, embodied, in you, and starts cracking everything open in this world that seeks to crush it. You become part of God’s underground, God’s secret, hidden, work, that keeps popping up in all sorts of inconvenient ways for the powers that seek to stop it.

Until even this planet, and this species of God’s children, join the great dance of God’s Love.

Like Mary, all God needs from you is a yes.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

¹ A profound line borrowed with thanks from my dear friend, the Rev. Dr. Will Healy, whose wisdom has blessed me for years, and with thanks to God for his forty years of faithful ministry as he retires this Christmastide.

You are needed by God for the Incarnation of God’s love into the world, maybe in ways that seem small, but are still challenging to you: don’t be afraid, then. God is with you.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Fourth Sunday of Advent, year A
Texts: Matthew 1:18-25; Isaiah 7:10-16

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Maybe . . . maybe you also need to take Joseph of Nazareth seriously. ¹

It’s not obvious that you should. Joseph is barely in the Gospels. Only Matthew gives any part of his point of view, and after the escape to Egypt, Joseph disappears. Except for when his twelve-year old son says, “you’re not my real father” after being absent for three days.

Joseph isn’t the one Mary’s first-born son called the greatest ever to be born of a woman. That’s the great forerunner of the Messiah, John the Baptist. Joseph isn’t asked to carry the Savior of the world in his own body, and become beloved to two millennia of people. That would be Mary, the Theotokos, the one who bears God into the world.

But Joseph is worthy of your serious attention, nonetheless.

Hear again the greeting from God’s angelic messenger in Joseph’s dream.

“Do not be afraid,” the angel said. Pretty common greeting. God’s angels often say this. Mary heard it at the beginning. So did the Bethlehem shepherds. Jesus essentially said “don’t be afraid” to John the Baptist last week. But Mary and John had critical jobs they were asked to do for God’s mission, big jobs that certainly could frighten. The shepherds were about to see a terrifying mass of angels in the sky.

What fear did the angel want Joseph to put aside? “Don’t be afraid to get married,” the angel said. That’s it. Go ahead and take Mary as your wife. It’s an anti-climactic mission compared to the others. Marry this woman, and don’t be afraid of that.

Joseph’s job in the Triune God’s entering human life is to be a husband. To provide for this mother and this child. To protect them, even from hateful kings. Over the years, the Church has called Joseph of Nazareth “the guardian.” That was the job.

And yet, and this is what you need to notice, he still was told not to be afraid of this calling.

That’s not as easy as it sounds.

Trusting God enough to follow God’s call, trusting that all will be well, even in your confusion or fear, isn’t easy. King Ahaz of Judah couldn’t do it. Or didn’t want to. As we heard a couple weeks ago, he was wicked, and didn’t worship the God of Israel. But Isaiah still told the king, as he trembled in fear under the threat of Assyria and anxiety over the northern alliance, “ask the God Who Is for a sign. Trust God will be with you. Don’t be afraid.” Ahaz refuses.

Isaiah gives him a sign anyway. “Immanuel,” Isaiah says. A child will be born with a name which means “God-with-us.” God is with you, Ahaz, even though you’re a terrible king and a wicked person. God will protect Judah, and before a child can be born and weaned, this political crisis will be over.

Joseph was also asked to set aside his fear and trust God.

Marriage wasn’t what he was really afraid of. He was engaged to Mary, after all.

But in light of Mary’s pregnancy, he faced shame and scandal and humiliation among his fellow townspeople. He faced the loss of his hopes and expectations that he would have a quiet life, working his trade, raising children to carry his name and his bloodline to the next generation. There was plenty to fear.

And even if they had more children, which Scripture says they did, he would never have a first-born son with Mary, and with this particular child he’d always be in a supporting role. A side player. Just there to protect and keep safe, and, we hope, to love. Mary would be called Mother of God. “Father of God” wasn’t Joseph’s call.

Joseph’s call diminished his expected role as father and head of the family, and, hardest of all, required him to believe Mary’s story about the pregnancy. That great pain hovered behind all this.

But of course, his role was critical. Mary needed to give birth safely. This child, God-with-us, would be vulnerable for years and needed to be fed and clothed and cared for and kept safe until he could do what he needed to do. A poor, single mother, without means of support, fending for herself and her child in the world is never a safe reality. Joseph’s role, small as it was, was absolutely necessary for God.

That’s what Joseph needed to trust. To set aside his fear about.

That’s why Joseph of Nazareth is so important to you.

Here’s what Joseph is for you: someone who does a critical job for God, only it’s one that’s barely noticed, that to the world looks unimportant, that might even cause embarrassment or sadness, that needs a change of expectations.

But it was also a job only Joseph could do. In this whole story, only one person was engaged to Mary, chosen for him by his family and hers. No one on this planet was in Joseph’s position to be guardian for her and for this baby.

Joseph asks you a simple question: what if you’re like me, and there’s something that only you are suited for, something God needs for only you to be and do as God’s Christ in the world? And what if it’s not very important? What if it seems insignificant? What if it means sacrifices for you? What if it’s being the person in your family and among your friends who guards the love of God, makes sure it’s revealed and lived in your life? Would you be willing to do that?

Now can you understand the angel’s greeting: “Don’t be afraid”?

God will ask you to do something today, or tomorrow, that will cost you in some way, but that only you can do. Maybe your expectations about how your life will go, or what you deserve will have to change. Maybe it will be inconvenient, or make you fear embarrassment, or be really challenging.

Maybe you won’t ever get an angel visit – or even an angel in a dream – though some certainly have experienced that, even to this day, and perhaps even in this community. But God gets the message through, always, and the call, always.

And always, God’s message to you is: “don’t be afraid to do this. To be this.” God’s message to Joseph (and to Ahaz, if he’d have listened), and to you, is “I am with you.” Emmanuel. My Spirit is in you, giving you courage and hope, to do what I need you to do.

And therefore, all will be well. Even if it’s sometimes hard to see that can be true.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

¹ Borrowed from the opening line of Vicar Bristol Reading’s powerful sermon from last week, 3 Advent A, with thanks. Go read it. Better yet, watch the video at the link below. – J. C.
https://www.mountolivechurch.org/2019/12/15/impossible/ 

John the Baptist’s example shows us that faithful commitment to Christ means trusting and serving God even when you’re uncertain how things will turn out.

Vicar Bristol Reading
The Third Sunday of Advent, year A
Texts: Isaiah 35:1-10, Matthew 11:2-11

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

You need to take John the Baptist seriously.

Yes, I’m talking about the guy who lived in the wild, wore animal skins and foraged for food. I’m talking about the guy who went around shouting about winnowing forks, impending wrath, and baptism by fire. You need to take him seriously.

Too often John is portrayed as some kind of social aberration, a madman who behaved the way he did because he was unhinged. But John was a prophet, a sage, a truth-speaker. He was one of many people in his day who understood that an ascetic life in the wilderness could foster deep spiritual wisdom.

He was widely known and well respected. He wasn’t crazy. He was disciplined; he was zealous. He was committed to his mission, and his mission was to point to Jesus Christ.

John gave everything for that mission. He staked his career, his reputation, even his life, on the truth of Jesus Christ. At the point in Matthew’s Gospel that we read this morning, John has been imprisoned by King Herod, who will eventually execute him. John’s ministry was ending as Jesus’ ministry was beginning.

That means that John, the great forerunner of Christ, did not get to experience Jesus’ ministry for himself. He did not hear Jesus’ teachings, witness Jesus’ healings. He was not there when Jesus died on a cross, or when Jesus conquered death.

Although he didn’t see these things himself, John continually insisted that Jesus was the promised Messiah. He believed that Jesus was Emmanuel, God come to earth.

Yet despite this profound trust in who Jesus was, John was still afraid. He was afraid that he’d led people in the wrong direction, pointed to the wrong person. While he was in prison, John had heard stories about what Jesus was up to, and they didn’t always make sense to him. They didn’t always fit his expectations. John had given everything for Jesus, but he was still uncertain.

So he sent a desperate message asking Jesus, “Are you the one, or are we to wait for another?” Facing the end of his life, John wondered whether or not he’d gotten it right. He just wanted to be sure.

Jesus responded that he was bringing healing and liberation for all people, especially those who struggle the most.

The way Jesus described his ministry echoes ancient words from the prophet Isaiah. We heard those words this morning. Isaiah’s vision paints a picture of the new life that is possible through the Messiah.

It is a transformation so complete that it’s like the harsh Judean desert turning into a lush oasis. Plants can grow, animals can thrive. The very landscape itself becomes an expression of joy! People who are weak in body find strength. Those who suffer in spirit find healing. There are no barriers to keep people from flourishing. And this notoriously dangerous wilderness is now made safe for everyone. Anyone can find their way through. No one gets lost. No one gets hurt. This is how Isaiah imagines the miraculous restoration God brings: it is total social and ecological renewal.

It may be difficult for you here this morning, in the land of 10,000 lakes (currently 10,000 frozen lakes), to grasp just how incredible this vision of a blooming desert would have sounded in its original context.

But you know exactly what it’s like to hear a vision of peace and harmony for the world and think, “No way. That’s impossible.”

A community in which no one is afraid and everyone is safe. That seems impossible.
A time when suffering minds and bodies are healed seems impossible.
A place where all people are welcomed seems impossible.
A landscape in which all species of plants and animals can thrive seems impossible.

When we look around our world, we don’t see an oasis. We still see the metaphorical desert.

We see gun violence and hate crimes that are devastatingly common, millions of people who lack access to adequate healthcare, institutions entrenched in racism and prejudice, habitat loss and climate change that are decimating biodiversity.

Will God in Christ really transform all this?

If you have asked this question, then know that you are not alone. Long ago, someone asked this same question from a prison cell: “Are you the one who will save us, or not, Jesus? Because, right now, to me, it seems impossible.”

If this is your prayer, then know that you pray alongside John, that courageous prophet who gave everything he had for the sake of the Gospel, even though he couldn’t see the ending of everything he’d worked for. In the midst of his uncertainty, in the midst of his fear, he believed that God could still – somehow – bring restoration through Christ. He held on to the vision of a desert in bloom, even though he hadn’t yet experienced it.

You can hold on to that vision, too. That vision was given to you for a time such as this.
A time when you trust God but you’re still not sure how things will work out.
A time when you are committed to the work of the Gospel, but you’re overwhelmed by all the hurt in the world.
A time when you look back on a life of faithfulness but still experience doubt.

This is why you need to take John the Baptist seriously: Because his example shows that faithful commitment to Christ does not mean you’re not afraid: it means you trust God in the midst of your fear. You rely on God’s promises even before you have seen them be fully realized. You don’t have to have all the answers before you join God’s mission. You offer your life in service to the Gospel, as John did, and you keep pointing to Christ.

Because your skills, your voice, and your witness are needed. You are a part of the restoration that God is working in the world. The God you trust has also entrusted you to be the hands and feet of Christ.

And when you’re afraid and change seems impossible, you can come back to this good news: you’re putting your trust in a God who makes the impossible possible,
a God who makes a way where there is no way, like water in the desert;
a God who brings good news to the poor;
a God who comforts the suffering;
a God who lifts up the lowly, who provides for the hungry, who brings the dead to life.

You’re trusting a God who keeps promises, even when they’re beyond your lifetime. God can see the end of the journey, even when you can’t. And God goes with you every step of the way, even through the desert.

Amen.