Tuesday, December 24, 2019

What's the story?


A Sermon preached on Dec. 24 Christmas Eve at St. Augustine’s, Wiesbaden
Isaiah 52: 7-10, Hebrews 1: 1-4, John 1: 1-14

The four Gospel writers each have a different approach to the story of Jesus’ birth. Mark doesn’t bother with it at all. His story only starts with the beginning of Jesus’s adult ministry and his baptism by John the Baptist. While Matthew and Luke both tell us the story of Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem, each has a slightly different focus. Luke writes more from Mary’s perspective, Matthew from Joseph’s. Luke focuses on Jesus’ mission to the poor and outcast of Israel, like the shepherds for example. Matthew wants us to know from the very beginning that Jesus did not just come to save Israel, but the whole world – like the three wise men or kings from exotic, foreign lands.

But you didn’t hear either of those versions in tonight’s Gospel reading, although they are still present in our Christmas creche scene. Instead you heard the Prologue to the Gospel of John: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” (John 1:1)

One of the problems with Luke and Matthew’s versions and what we have made out of them  – what we might call the ‘manger danger’ – is that they can focus on a harmless, innocent, unthreatening baby, something that can arouse little more than affection and admiration: sweet baby Jesus. The explanation of Jesus’ origin in John’s Gospel on the other hand can also be problematic from the opposite angle – sounding too abstract or philosophical, too distant, too transcendent! In both cases, the danger, the risk is to think that these stories, these passages have nothing to say to us, nothing to do with us, and no impact on our lives. 

But both of those problems can only come from a superficial reading of the Gospel passages. That sweet baby can’t really be harmless as he sounds. Even at his birth, Jesus arouses much more than simple affection. He is immediately worshipped and adored by common people, by strangers, and by the heavenly host. There is a manger danger, the manger is indeed dangerous – for Jesus, for those who follow him, and for those who feel threatened by what Jesus stands for. He is feared by those in power. Rome’s puppet king Herod tries to have him killed and his family have to flee the country to save their lives. Later one of Herod’s sons will be involved in Jesus’ death. 

From the beginning, the baby is identified as the savior – as the one who will bring hope, healing and liberation for those in need and salvation – new life – for anyone who turns to him in love. Both Luke and Matthew’s birth narratives therefore make very clear that something very special is happening on this holy night: this child is the savior, the Messiah, the Lord, God in human flesh. 

John’s prologue covers much the same ground – it just goes back even further, before the very beginning of time and uses more poetic language. The “Word who was with God, and the Word who was God” is not just some abstract principle of divine reason and creative order – instead this Word became flesh, literally meat, and lived among us as the human being Jesus Christ. For those who believe, the Word is worshipped and adored as “the glory … of a father's only son, full of grace and truth” (1:14) and as the one who brings life – who is the very source of life – and as the divine light that shines in the darkness and shines especially bright for those who are in darkness: the poor, unloved, rejected, oppressed, those who have lost hope. The Word, who is Jesus, brings hope, healing and liberation for those in need and salvation – new life – for anyone who turns to him in love.

Just like the baby, John’s mighty Word who came to live among us was perceived as a threat and was rejected and in the end killed by those for whom his message was a threat: “He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him.” (John 1:10-11)

The Christmas story is not about a baby and not about an abstract philosophical concept. To paraphrase the Letter from the Hebrews (1:1), “in their many and various ways” the different Gospel writers tell us that over 2000 years ago, God sent a Son, as “the reflection of God's glory” to speak to us, to live with us, to share our lives – good and bad, and to transform us and our lives into something better. We are all already created in God’s image – we have that “exact imprint of God's very being” in us. We just don’t act that way. But if we follow the one who became flesh and lived among us, using his life as our guide, and abiding by his teachings, and loving one another and God as God in Jesus loves us, then that imprint of God's very being, that imprint that is love, will become visible in us and will begin to shape and reshape our lives.

My boss, well one of my many earthly bosses, our Presiding Bishop Michael Curry just loves the prologue to John’s Gospel. It was the theme of his Christmas message this year. I’ll finish with his summary of what that prologue means for us today:
 “But there is a God. And there is Jesus. And even in the darkest night. That light once shined and will shine still. His way of love is the way of life. It is the light of the world. And the light of that love shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not, cannot, and will not overcome it.”[1]
Amen.


[1] https://episcopalchurch.org/posts/publicaffairs/presiding-bishop-currys-christmas-message-2019

Sunday, November 24, 2019

What sort of king?


A Sermon preached on Nov. 24, 2019, Christ the King (Family Service) at St. Augustine’s, Wiesbaden
Jeremiah 23:1-6, Luke 23:33-43


Today is the feast of Christ the King, and also the last Sunday of the Church year. Though when you heard the Gospel reading, you might have thought it we were in Holy Week and that today was Good Friday. 

What are the traditional symbols of a king or queen? What do they wear on their heads? [crown – of gold, laden with jewels]. And what do they usually hold in their hands? [scepter and orb - scepter is a staff that indicates royal authority and the orb is a golden sphere, usually with a cross on top symbolizing kingly power and justice]. They sit on a raised chair – a throne – so they are above the “normal” people. And they normally have an expensive robe. These are symbols of power and wealth. They tell us who they are. They show us that they have power over us.

And what does Christ the King wear or hold? None of those. Well he has a crown – but his crown is made of thorns. His robe was made of plain cloth, and now it is bloody and is taken from him: “they cast lots to divide his clothing.” (Luke 23:34) The evening before his arrest, instead of a scepter and orb he held a bowl and a towel in his hands. And while his throne is raised high above the people, it is a cross – which is supposed to shame him, like the inscription “This is the King of the Jews” (Luke 23:38) and ultimately kill him. These are symbols of service, suffering, sacrifice, and powerlessness. What sort of a king is that? 

According to the theologian Tom Wright[1], Jesus is a king who stands the meaning of kingship and of kingdom, on its head. During Jesus’ life and ministry, he has celebrated with the wrong people, with sinners and tax collectors, he has offered peace and hope to the wrong people, the poor, the outcasts, the foreigners, and he warned the wrong people that they will be judged – those in power, those who thought they were God’s favorites. And now he is hailed as king at last, but in mockery … or so the leaders and the soldiers think. 

The Jewish leaders and the Roman soldiers all miss the point when they say, “Let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God” and “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself.” Because that is not what Jesus came for, lived for, and died for. Sure, I can understand why they think it would be Jesus’ main motivation to save himself. Surely everyone thinks of him- or herself first. They did. Then – and sadly still today – the main motivation of too many rulers is to amass and retain power and wealth. 

But not our king. Our king did not come to save himself but to save others. His first concern is for others, even on his way to the cross. Kings often promise a place of honor and advancement on their way to their enthronement, Jesus promises forgiveness. One of the two criminals – these will have been rebels, terrorists we might call them, people who attacked or threatened Roman authority – one of them recognizing Jesus as the true king says: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” To which Jesus replies, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.” (Luke 23:42-43) Jesus is Messiah and King and he has the power to save – but not as expected.  

In the first reading from Jeremiah we already heard a contrast between two types of leadership. Israel’s leaders – kings and priests - had scattered God’s flock, driven them away, and not attended to them. God promises to raise up a different type of leader, a servant leader, a just and righteous leader, someone who brings God’s justice, God’s saving presence and action into the world. 

This is Jesus, our king and savior and our example. Like him we are called to celebrate with the “wrong people,” to reach out to the homeless and the refugee. We are called to offer peace and hope to the “wrong people,” those who are persecuted or rejected simply for their difference. And we are called to warn the “wrong people” that they will be judged – those who abuse power, those who do not serve their people, those who sow division and hate. You see in God’s eyes, and in Jesus’ upside-down kingdom these are the right people to be saved and the right ones to be warned that, in Jeremiah’s words, “I will attend to you for your evil doings, says the Lord.” (Jeremiah 23:2) 

I’ll finish with one of the short daily reflections I get sent from the Society of Saint John the Evangelist.
“We live in a world where Me is king. But our citizenship is not of this world. We are citizens of another country, whose king is a servant, whose orb is a towel, whose scepter a wash basin, whose crown is humility, and whose motto is service. As citizens and subjects of that kingdom, we cannot swear ultimate allegiance in any other way than taking up our towels, holding our basins, and getting down on our knees.”[2]
Amen.



[1] Luke for Everyone, 284
[2] Br. James Koester, SSJE