God comes to us as one of us, revealing the heart of God, light in darkness, and now transforms us to do the same for the healing and restoring of the whole world.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
   The Second Sunday of Christmas
   text:  John 1:10-18

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

This was the only way it was going to work.

The problem of a world filled with pain and evil was never only a human problem.  The God who made this world has always been in pain over what we have done with it.  We have taken God’s great creation and made a disaster.  We’ve taken God’s great gift and turned it to harm against each other.  This world is not what it was created to be, and that has always angered God, saddened God, our ancestors in faith have testified.  It angers us, saddens us, too.

The question is what, if anything, is God doing.  When we see the evil people do, knowing this is not what God wants, we wonder what God’s answer is.  When we see people struggle to survive, that global problems of hunger and poverty place the majority of the world’s people in a life that barely clings to existence, we wonder what God is doing about this.  When we see the problems that beg for answers, our first thought is: what about God?

John the Evangelist says God in fact is doing something, the only thing that can deal with all of this mess, all of this brokenness, and bring it to healing, without also destroying us all and starting over.  God is doing the only thing that would work.  Are we willing to see, wise enough to listen?

It will take that, because we don’t seem to be looking for what God is doing.

Maybe because it’s about God changing us, changing people, to be a part of the needed healing and cleansing and restoring.  This always seems to surprise us.

When you imagine God solving the problem of world hunger, what do you imagine?  A miraculous intervention changing all the deserts into fertile land?  A power move overturning corrupt governments that deprive their people of needed resources?

When you imagine God stopping evil in this world, what do you imagine?  God intervening with power and might in every terrorist act?  God destroying those who live their lives to harm others?

The problem with expecting God to fix things apart from us is there really are no good answers on that path.  In the Great Flood God learned that destroying humanity didn’t solve the problem of evil.  It only caused a lot of death.  From there God had to make a new plan.

We’re still trying to catch up to that plan.

John says we’ve had this problem from the start.

This Word among us, John says, who made all things, came to his own, to the very people he had made, to us, and we didn’t know him.  We didn’t accept him.

From the beginning of John’s Gospel we see the problem: God’s answer, to come in person, is not the answer we’re looking for.  It’s not the magic solution, no-work, instant fix we secretly seem to expect God ought to do.

So God walks among us and we don’t see.  God’s plans to change the world have begun and we’re missing them.  If we look, though, we’ll see a wonder.

God’s way shows us the true heart of God.

This Son of God, John says, gives us what we only guessed at before: inside knowledge of God’s true heart for the world.  “No one has ever seen God.  It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.”

With Jesus the world no longer needs to speculate as to the nature of God, the heart of God.  We never have to look at a natural disaster again and wonder, “was God angry with these people?”  We never have to face a tragedy of evil and ask if it was punishment from God.  The Son reveals to us the heart of the Triune God, and the heart of the Triune God is and always will be love.

God’s coming to be with us was the only certain way we could know this heart of God.  Not in thunder from a mountain or massive acts of nature or in miracles; those could always be misinterpreted.  In person, God could talk to us, model for us, show us true life.

God’s answer for the pain of this world is and always will be love, in person.

God’s way is therefore the only way that really is light in darkness.

This is a world in darkness, but God’s light has come and cannot be stopped.

It’s not always evident that this is true.  When the Son of God first came into this world, the darkness resisted mightily.  But the suffering and death of our Lord Jesus wasn’t a tragic mistake or something that the Father somehow overlooked in the plan.

It was the plan.  Coming in person not only revealed God’s heart as love, it showed the power of God as loss, the might of God as self-giving.  Rather than fight the darkness of this world by destruction and force, God’s plan was to enter it and transform it from within.  That’s why we struggle to see this, understand this.  We are addicted to wanting power solutions, flashy miracles.

But God said, “I’ll open myself up to the darkness and it will do all it can to me, and light will still win.”  That’s the plan, and in Jesus’ resurrection we see just how that plan is working.  When God doesn’t fight evil but stands in its way on our behalf, stands even in our way as we make evil, God brings a light that darkness cannot overcome.

This was the only way that was going to work.  We need to learn this.  Because the next part of the plan is where we get stuck.

You see, the plan was never to stop with just Jesus.  It was to begin to change the world through those who joined with the Son of God.

To those who believe in him, those who saw what God was truly doing in Jesus, John says, the Son of God gives power to become children of God themselves.

That’s the plan.  The whole deal.  God’s solution to everything that ails this planet, everything we wish God would fix, everything wicked and ruined and oppressive.  God will bring healing through us, through God’s children, across this globe.

It’s genius.  We are changed into children of God; so we, like Jesus, bear God’s heart in the world.  We, like Jesus, become people who are always love, all the time.  We, like Jesus, become people who stand as light in darkness not with power but with a willingness to lose.

Do you see how brilliant God is?  The problem with this world was never something God could separate from the problem with people, the problem with us.  Any solution of power, even with divine power able to create universes, couldn’t fix God’s greatest pain about this world: the hearts of God’s children were cold and selfish, the root of all that is wrong in this world.

Change the hearts and you’ve got something, God thought.  Changed people, which is the primary hope.  And then a changed world, because these people are going to go out there and make a new creation with God’s Spirit giving them grace to do it.

This was the only way that would work.  It’s time we saw that and rejoiced.

This coming of this child in Bethlehem we celebrate was the beginning of God’s massive attempt to reconnect with us and all people to heal and restore all things.  The changing of our hearts, and of the hearts of the people of this world, is the only way the Triune God is able and willing to change this world.

No one has ever seen God.  But the Son of God has made the Father’s heart known to us.  Now we, children of God ourselves, get to show that same heart to the world, and see God’s healing begin.

Joy to the world indeed.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

God comes to us as one of us, revealing the heart of God, light in darkness, and now transforms us to do the same for the healing and restoring of the whole world.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
   The Second Sunday of Christmas
   text:  John 1:10-18

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

This was the only way it was going to work.

The problem of a world filled with pain and evil was never only a human problem.  The God who made this world has always been in pain over what we have done with it.  We have taken God’s great creation and made a disaster.  We’ve taken God’s great gift and turned it to harm against each other.  This world is not what it was created to be, and that has always angered God, saddened God, our ancestors in faith have testified.  It angers us, saddens us, too.

The question is what, if anything, is God doing.  When we see the evil people do, knowing this is not what God wants, we wonder what God’s answer is.  When we see people struggle to survive, that global problems of hunger and poverty place the majority of the world’s people in a life that barely clings to existence, we wonder what God is doing about this.  When we see the problems that beg for answers, our first thought is: what about God?

John the Evangelist says God in fact is doing something, the only thing that can deal with all of this mess, all of this brokenness, and bring it to healing, without also destroying us all and starting over.  God is doing the only thing that would work.  Are we willing to see, wise enough to listen?

It will take that, because we don’t seem to be looking for what God is doing.

Maybe because it’s about God changing us, changing people, to be a part of the needed healing and cleansing and restoring.  This always seems to surprise us.

When you imagine God solving the problem of world hunger, what do you imagine?  A miraculous intervention changing all the deserts into fertile land?  A power move overturning corrupt governments that deprive their people of needed resources?

When you imagine God stopping evil in this world, what do you imagine?  God intervening with power and might in every terrorist act?  God destroying those who live their lives to harm others?

The problem with expecting God to fix things apart from us is there really are no good answers on that path.  In the Great Flood God learned that destroying humanity didn’t solve the problem of evil.  It only caused a lot of death.  From there God had to make a new plan.

We’re still trying to catch up to that plan.

John says we’ve had this problem from the start.

This Word among us, John says, who made all things, came to his own, to the very people he had made, to us, and we didn’t know him.  We didn’t accept him.

From the beginning of John’s Gospel we see the problem: God’s answer, to come in person, is not the answer we’re looking for.  It’s not the magic solution, no-work, instant fix we secretly seem to expect God ought to do.

So God walks among us and we don’t see.  God’s plans to change the world have begun and we’re missing them.  If we look, though, we’ll see a wonder.

God’s way shows us the true heart of God.

This Son of God, John says, gives us what we only guessed at before: inside knowledge of God’s true heart for the world.  “No one has ever seen God.  It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.”

With Jesus the world no longer needs to speculate as to the nature of God, the heart of God.  We never have to look at a natural disaster again and wonder, “was God angry with these people?”  We never have to face a tragedy of evil and ask if it was punishment from God.  The Son reveals to us the heart of the Triune God, and the heart of the Triune God is and always will be love.

God’s coming to be with us was the only certain way we could know this heart of God.  Not in thunder from a mountain or massive acts of nature or in miracles; those could always be misinterpreted.  In person, God could talk to us, model for us, show us true life.

God’s answer for the pain of this world is and always will be love, in person.

God’s way is therefore the only way that really is light in darkness.

This is a world in darkness, but God’s light has come and cannot be stopped.

It’s not always evident that this is true.  When the Son of God first came into this world, the darkness resisted mightily.  But the suffering and death of our Lord Jesus wasn’t a tragic mistake or something that the Father somehow overlooked in the plan.

It was the plan.  Coming in person not only revealed God’s heart as love, it showed the power of God as loss, the might of God as self-giving.  Rather than fight the darkness of this world by destruction and force, God’s plan was to enter it and transform it from within.  That’s why we struggle to see this, understand this.  We are addicted to wanting power solutions, flashy miracles.

But God said, “I’ll open myself up to the darkness and it will do all it can to me, and light will still win.”  That’s the plan, and in Jesus’ resurrection we see just how that plan is working.  When God doesn’t fight evil but stands in its way on our behalf, stands even in our way as we make evil, God brings a light that darkness cannot overcome.

This was the only way that was going to work.  We need to learn this.  Because the next part of the plan is where we get stuck.

You see, the plan was never to stop with just Jesus.  It was to begin to change the world through those who joined with the Son of God.

To those who believe in him, those who saw what God was truly doing in Jesus, John says, the Son of God gives power to become children of God themselves.

That’s the plan.  The whole deal.  God’s solution to everything that ails this planet, everything we wish God would fix, everything wicked and ruined and oppressive.  God will bring healing through us, through God’s children, across this globe.

It’s genius.  We are changed into children of God; so we, like Jesus, bear God’s heart in the world.  We, like Jesus, become people who are always love, all the time.  We, like Jesus, become people who stand as light in darkness not with power but with a willingness to lose.

Do you see how brilliant God is?  The problem with this world was never something God could separate from the problem with people, the problem with us.  Any solution of power, even with divine power able to create universes, couldn’t fix God’s greatest pain about this world: the hearts of God’s children were cold and selfish, the root of all that is wrong in this world.

Change the hearts and you’ve got something, God thought.  Changed people, which is the primary hope.  And then a changed world, because these people are going to go out there and make a new creation with God’s Spirit giving them grace to do it.

This was the only way that would work.  It’s time we saw that and rejoiced.

This coming of this child in Bethlehem we celebrate was the beginning of God’s massive attempt to reconnect with us and all people to heal and restore all things.  The changing of our hearts, and of the hearts of the people of this world, is the only way the Triune God is able and willing to change this world.

No one has ever seen God.  But the Son of God has made the Father’s heart known to us.  Now we, children of God ourselves, get to show that same heart to the world, and see God’s healing begin.

Joy to the world indeed.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

When Mary and Joseph brought Jesus to the temple and called him by name, they were making a commitment to Jesus, their community, and to God. God has called each of us by name, and God is in it with us for the long haul.

Vicar Meagan McLaughlin
   The Name of Jesus
   Texts: Numbers 6:22-27, Psalm 8, Galatians 4:4-7, Luke 2:15-21

Grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

We all know about first days. The first day of a new job, the first day of being in love, the first day of sobriety or seeking help for mental illness, the first day of a diet and exercise plan, the first day of parenthood, the first day of New Year’s Resolutions. There is, along with fear and all of the other emotions that accompany these first days, a sense of newness, hope, energy, wonder. We know things are different; we are in the midst of the change. On the first day, we don’t know how things will look and feel in a week, or a year, or twenty years, and we may not even know if we will make it that far, but there is often a sense of readiness to take on the world, as though anything is possible. Although we know there will be challenges, on the first day we are not prepared for the inevitable ups and downs of the journey ahead. We are not yet settled in for the long haul.

A week ago, as we do every year, we celebrated a birth—a first day. And today, we gather on the first day of the New Year to celebrate the day on which this child was presented, circumcised, and named. This event feels very different from Christmas. Mary and Joseph, as they bring their son to the temple, are not in the first day anymore. They have heard the words of the angel Gabriel, and the words of the shepherds, telling them that their son is not just an ordinary child, but the Savior, the Messiah of the House of David, good news for all people, and Mary has been pondering these words, wondering what it means. She still doesn’t understand all that has been said, doesn’t know all that is to come, but as Mary and Joseph bring their son to the temple, they are making a commitment. As parents in this congregation do when they bring their child for baptism, Mary and Joseph are introducing their son to their faith, the traditions of their ancestors. They are presenting their child to their community of faith. They are publicly promising to raise their child to love and honor God. They are committing to be in it for the long haul. Mary and Joseph are calling their son by name: Jesus.

Whether to parenthood, marriage, friendship, recovery, the work God has called us to in the world, or those elusive New Year’s Resolutions, being committed for the long haul is not easy. It does not mean that we have everything “figured out,” that we know what it will look like down the road, or that we feel confident all the time about how we are living out that commitment. We may at times still feel as uncertain as we did on the first day. We may wonder why we ever made the commitment in the first place.

When we are committed for the long haul, we know the path will not be easy. Along with joy, love, fulfillment, and hope, there will be pain, uncertainty, fear, and doubt. Being committed, we accept all that is a part of this life to come. Mary and Joseph knew this, and knowing this, they brought their son to the temple, stood before their community, and called him by name: Jesus.

Being in it for the long haul is not something we can do on our own. It is a community affair. That is why Mary and Joseph went to the temple to present and call Jesus by name. It is why we celebrate baptism and marriage in the midst of worship, surrounded by our family, friends, and community of faith. When things get challenging, we face the unexpected, and we wonder if we can continue on the path, our community surrounds us, offering encouragement and hope, reminding us that commitment is not easy, and that we are not alone.

Even more important than community, being committed for the long haul is a commitment to God. Mary and Joseph, as they brought Jesus to the temple and called him by name, were following generations of faithful people who believed in God, and honored traditions that placed God in the center of their lives. As they presented Jesus in the temple, they were not only making a commitment to their son, and their community, but to the God of their fathers and mothers. They were promising to remain faithful to God, and to teach their son to be faithful also. And, as they called their son by name, Jesus, they were putting him in the care of the God who had always been faithful, trusting that God would love and guide Jesus as he had done for them.

As we start the New Year, the making of New Year’s resolutions has a “first day” feel to it, and we name goals for ourselves, with the best of intentions, that often fall by the wayside by Valentine’s Day. Today, we are invited to reflect on our relationships and commitments, and to remind ourselves and each other that we are in it for the long haul. We are called to consider what it means to us in this moment to be faithful to our friendships, our families, our vocations, and most importantly, to God.

And, on this day, as we share the story of Mary and Joseph bringing their son to the temple, calling Jesus by name, we recognize that they are honoring their commitment to a God who has never failed in commitment to them. To us. It is the faithfulness of God that makes commitment possible, for them and for us. When we know that God is in it for the long haul, we can trust God to guide us in all that we are called to, no matter what challenges and fears and doubts may present themselves. We can trust that, with God, anything is possible.

Like Jesus, we, too, have been called by name. God told Moses that Aaron and his sons were to proclaim to the people a very intimate blessing. The Lord keeps us. The face of God shines on us. God looks upon us with favor, and gives us peace. When we hear this blessing, we are reminded that we have been called children of God, and that God will never abandon us or forsake us. We have been named children of God. And God, the one who names us, is in it with us, for the long haul.

Thanks be to God!

When Mary and Joseph brought Jesus to the temple and called him by name, they were making a commitment to Jesus, their community, and to God. God has called each of us by name, and God is in it with us for the long haul.

Vicar Meagan McLaughlin
   The Name of Jesus
   Texts: Numbers 6:22-27, Psalm 8, Galatians 4:4-7, Luke 2:15-21

Grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

We all know about first days. The first day of a new job, the first day of being in love, the first day of sobriety or seeking help for mental illness, the first day of a diet and exercise plan, the first day of parenthood, the first day of New Year’s Resolutions. There is, along with fear and all of the other emotions that accompany these first days, a sense of newness, hope, energy, wonder. We know things are different; we are in the midst of the change. On the first day, we don’t know how things will look and feel in a week, or a year, or twenty years, and we may not even know if we will make it that far, but there is often a sense of readiness to take on the world, as though anything is possible. Although we know there will be challenges, on the first day we are not prepared for the inevitable ups and downs of the journey ahead. We are not yet settled in for the long haul.

A week ago, as we do every year, we celebrated a birth—a first day. And today, we gather on the first day of the New Year to celebrate the day on which this child was presented, circumcised, and named. This event feels very different from Christmas. Mary and Joseph, as they bring their son to the temple, are not in the first day anymore. They have heard the words of the angel Gabriel, and the words of the shepherds, telling them that their son is not just an ordinary child, but the Savior, the Messiah of the House of David, good news for all people, and Mary has been pondering these words, wondering what it means. She still doesn’t understand all that has been said, doesn’t know all that is to come, but as Mary and Joseph bring their son to the temple, they are making a commitment. As parents in this congregation do when they bring their child for baptism, Mary and Joseph are introducing their son to their faith, the traditions of their ancestors. They are presenting their child to their community of faith. They are publicly promising to raise their child to love and honor God. They are committing to be in it for the long haul. Mary and Joseph are calling their son by name: Jesus.

Whether to parenthood, marriage, friendship, recovery, the work God has called us to in the world, or those elusive New Year’s Resolutions, being committed for the long haul is not easy. It does not mean that we have everything “figured out,” that we know what it will look like down the road, or that we feel confident all the time about how we are living out that commitment. We may at times still feel as uncertain as we did on the first day. We may wonder why we ever made the commitment in the first place.

When we are committed for the long haul, we know the path will not be easy. Along with joy, love, fulfillment, and hope, there will be pain, uncertainty, fear, and doubt. Being committed, we accept all that is a part of this life to come. Mary and Joseph knew this, and knowing this, they brought their son to the temple, stood before their community, and called him by name: Jesus.

Being in it for the long haul is not something we can do on our own. It is a community affair. That is why Mary and Joseph went to the temple to present and call Jesus by name. It is why we celebrate baptism and marriage in the midst of worship, surrounded by our family, friends, and community of faith. When things get challenging, we face the unexpected, and we wonder if we can continue on the path, our community surrounds us, offering encouragement and hope, reminding us that commitment is not easy, and that we are not alone.

Even more important than community, being committed for the long haul is a commitment to God. Mary and Joseph, as they brought Jesus to the temple and called him by name, were following generations of faithful people who believed in God, and honored traditions that placed God in the center of their lives. As they presented Jesus in the temple, they were not only making a commitment to their son, and their community, but to the God of their fathers and mothers. They were promising to remain faithful to God, and to teach their son to be faithful also. And, as they called their son by name, Jesus, they were putting him in the care of the God who had always been faithful, trusting that God would love and guide Jesus as he had done for them.

As we start the New Year, the making of New Year’s resolutions has a “first day” feel to it, and we name goals for ourselves, with the best of intentions, that often fall by the wayside by Valentine’s Day. Today, we are invited to reflect on our relationships and commitments, and to remind ourselves and each other that we are in it for the long haul. We are called to consider what it means to us in this moment to be faithful to our friendships, our families, our vocations, and most importantly, to God.

And, on this day, as we share the story of Mary and Joseph bringing their son to the temple, calling Jesus by name, we recognize that they are honoring their commitment to a God who has never failed in commitment to them. To us. It is the faithfulness of God that makes commitment possible, for them and for us. When we know that God is in it for the long haul, we can trust God to guide us in all that we are called to, no matter what challenges and fears and doubts may present themselves. We can trust that, with God, anything is possible.

Like Jesus, we, too, have been called by name. God told Moses that Aaron and his sons were to proclaim to the people a very intimate blessing. The Lord keeps us. The face of God shines on us. God looks upon us with favor, and gives us peace. When we hear this blessing, we are reminded that we have been called children of God, and that God will never abandon us or forsake us. We have been named children of God. And God, the one who names us, is in it with us, for the long haul.

Thanks be to God!

This world is not safe for children, so God came among us as a child, calling us all to the unsafe path, the path of the cross and of risk, in order to transform this broken world and make it safe for all children of God.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
   The Holy Innocents, Martyrs
   texts:  Jeremiah 31:15-17; Matthew 2:13-18

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

This world is not safe for children.

It’s a terrible indictment on all of us adults who ought to make it safe, but it’s true.  Children are regularly victims of war they don’t cause, poverty they were born into, hunger they can do nothing about, ambitions and power they have no control over, victims of even their own parents and families.  There are too many examples to bear.

This world is not safe for children.  We don’t want to run from our shock and horror hearing this story of Bethlehem so soon after Christmas.  We need to hold it longer.  This thing Matthew relates happens so often we barely register one before the next comes; eventually we hardly pay attention to any.  Feeling them all is more than we can bear, so we choose to feel none.

This world is not safe for children.  Not even for the Son of God.  Immediately this barely-arrived baby is threatened with death.  Others suffer tragically in his place.  “A voice is heard, lamentation and bitter weeping.  Rachel is weeping for her children; she refuses to be comforted, because they are no more.”  How many mothers weep today, refusing to be comforted?  More than we can bear to think about.

This world is not safe for children and it’s not just the fault of the villains.

There is so much danger and wickedness, but we avoid facing our own part in it.  We always look to the perpetrators, as if that’s the answer.  Evil villains serve a useful purpose if we wish to avoid self-reflection.

Herod did awful things, that’s true.  He murdered his own sons, he murdered his own wife.  He tried to arrange a mass-murder for the day of his death so there would be someone who mourned on that day.  Herod had power, and he wanted control of his life, his reign, his kingdom.  So he used his power.  This decision to kill the children of Bethlehem took very little thought or energy.

But the problem lies deeper than finding a person to blame.  Whenever we have such a tragedy the bulk of our time is spent trying to figure out why the person did it, as if there’s ever a reason that makes sense.  If we can call the perpetrator evil, deranged, wicked, “not us,” we think we can move on untouched.

Yet this world remains unsafe for children, while we pretend these are isolated incidents.

When will we admit our own guilt in this unsafe world?

We don’t have Herod’s authority, and we say we don’t seek the death of others.  But we do like things comfortable, we like things our way, and we’re often careless about the expense of it all, while others pay that expense.

If our way of life pollutes this planet and depletes resources at an alarming rate far out of proportion to our numbers on the planet, what do we care?  We want what we want.  It’s too big a problem for us to solve anyway.  And so this world is not safe for children.

If our American spirit leads us to unchecked distribution of weapons and more and more prisons, what do we care?  We want what we want.  It’s too much effort to spend money ensuring all children get good health care and head starts on life; we’ll just pay far more in massacres and in more incarcerations than anyone else.  And so this world is not safe for children.

If our way of life leads our businesses and corporations to exploit people around the world, cause resentment and bitterness among whole nations of people, perpetuate patterns of hunger and oppression, what do we care?  We want what we want.  We can always use our weapons to clean up the messes we leave around the world.  And so this world is not safe for children.

Are we not Herod in every way except that we’ve left the final orders in the hands of others who do what our polls demand, our consumer hearts require?

There were no glib answers for the mothers and fathers of Bethlehem, and there are none for us, either.  This world is not safe for children.

We can’t sit in our comfort and prosperity and pretend all is well.  That if we don’t hear stories like this, or if we ignore them, they aren’t real.  Or they don’t affect us.  We can’t sit in our comfort and prosperity and pretend we have nothing to do with all this, either.  These children of Bethlehem, and Pakistan, and countless schools and villages and cities here, cry out for someone to care, to stand with them.

Maybe Rachel refuses to be comforted because she’s afraid this will never stop.  That others, that we, will continue to make decisions that affect her life, her children, but won’t stop because they, we, don’t care about collateral damage.

It should break our hearts.  It certainly breaks God’s heart.

That’s the whole point of this birth in Bethlehem.  God looked at the pain and misery and despair we’ve made and decided to come into our midst, as one of us.  Unwilling to use divine power and might to stop all this, for then God would simply be another Herod, only far worse, the Triune God who made the stars became a helpless infant whose fate rests in our hands.

Do you see what God has done?  We have made this world unsafe for children, so God came to us as a child.  God gave us the authority to decide if we want this God-with-us, this Emmanuel, in our midst.  To decide if children could be safe here.

There was no need for the manger to lead to the cross, unless we persisted in our selfishness, violence, and destruction.  We could have welcomed this child, heard his teachings as an adult, and followed, making the world a place of grace and life for all.  We still could.

Or we could reject him and kill him.  Jesus escapes Herod as a child, but only for a time.  The Herod in all of us finally catches up to him and puts an end to the nonsense about a way of love and peace between neighbors, between us and God.

Yet God’s answer to the mighty, to us, is always to be weak and vulnerable.

Our Prayer of the Day has it wrong.  We prayed, “by your great might frustrate the designs of evil tyrants and establish your rule of justice, love, and peace.”  We should have prayed, “by your vulnerability lived out in our lives,” do these things.  That’s the way of Christ.

God constantly goes to the only place worth going: to be with the children of Bethlehem and Jerusalem and Damascus and Pakistan and Africa and America as they are killed.  The Son of God enters the brutality of the world we have made and lets us kill him.  And something astonishing happens.

Life happens.  God raises Jesus from the dead, and everything is changed.  God shows that the path that walks alongside the children, the path of weakness and vulnerability, is the only path that leads to life.  Standing in the way of power and letting it do what it will is the only way that saves anyone.

So ironically, the only way to ensure safety for others is for us to take the path that is not safe.  The only way to avoid trampling someone else is to allow ourselves to be trampled.  The only way we can avoid harming someone else is if we are willing to be harmed ourselves.  When enough of God’s children walk this way, walk with the least of these, risk everything for the sake of the other, step aside from anything that harms others, the world starts to change.  Life begins to happen.

God risked being a child to begin to make this world safe for children.

Will we join God’s way of healing and hope for this world?  Or will we remain on Herod’s side?
There is comfort for the Rachels of this world, even for us, when we begin to understand this path that lies before us now, the path that leads from the manger to the cross.  When we are willing to walk that path, we begin to see hope come to this world, and to us.

God’s reign of justice, love, and peace for which we prayed is the only hope for the children of this world.  Jesus has shown us the path to that reign: our own vulnerability and loss.  For the sake of all the children, let us pray the Spirit’s grace that we find our way onto that path and soon, and into the life God hopes for all this world’s children.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen