Family Life

Happy 5th day of Christmas! Below is a copy of my sermon from Sunday, December 26th, Holy Family Sunday. Thanks for the requests to read it...

I know that the birth of a baby causes chaos in the life of everyone around the new family. This is particularly true of the parents, of course, who find that their sleep schedules…meal schedules…personal hygiene schedules are all now subject to the whims of an infant. I was reminded of that when I was reading a Facebook post from my sister—who gave birth to my nephew Benjamin a month ago Thursday. Janelle was recounting the wonderful successes of the people in the family: great test scores for one niece, a part in a musical for another niece, and a nice bit of home care done by my brother-in-law. My sister’s listed accomplishment for the same time period? “I make milk!” There is no question that this is an important accomplishment in the life of the family, but not something that people usually celebrate.

In Luke’s Gospel that we read on Christmas Eve, the story is that Mary and Joseph left Nazareth and traveled to Bethlehem, where Jesus was born, a star appeared, angels sang, and shepherds came; it is a lovely story of celebration and reflection. But there is nothing sentimental in Matthew’s “Christmas Story;” There is no travel prior to Jesus’ birth in the city of Bethlehem. Instead, Jesus’ birth is set in a turbulent time; tyrants see conspiracy at every turn and violently respond and families flee in the middle of the night. There are no angels that sing “Glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth, goodwill.”

Whatever the realities of their traveling and living situation, I can imagine that Mary and Joseph may have been feeling that same sense of lack of selfhood as they cared for the infant Jesus in the days after his birth. While Mary’s days would have been busy with all of the usual tasks of feeding and keeping clean a newborn, Joseph might very well have been at loose ends, working in his workshop, keeping his hands busy while he thought about all that happened to him and this new family that had come about so quickly. Even so, after a couple of weeks, it is likely that a certain sense of normalcy would have settled upon them, as it does with most young families.

So this new message that came from the angel, "Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him," would have created a great deal of consternation. They had managed to settle in and Jesus was growing in the way of children…surely they wouldn’t need to flee for their lives…but the angel was insistent, and Joseph listened. He told Mary to gather the baby and anything she could carry; he loaded their good and faithful donkey, and set out before the sun could rise and lead those who would kill the child right to them.

So Joseph, Mary, and Jesus step into the world of the exile. They flee to Egypt, following in the steps of Israelites generations before. A different Joseph—also a dreamer—was sent as a slave and became a high ranking servant of the Egyptian Pharaoh. This Joseph walks in with wife and child, seeking asylum from the Egyptian people so that he can make a living there until another dream calls him home again. Matthew’s Gospel shows a provident God who uses dreams to lead a compassionate and trusting father out of danger, so that the child Jesus will grow to become the savior of his people and generations to come.

Egypt became the childhood home of Jesus-perhaps for as much as ten years. Even though we don’t have the stories of Jesus’ childhood, in the Gospel of Matthew, the story is that it was in a foreign land that Jesus learned his father’s skills; it was there that he heard the stories of his people. For him, Egypt would be both the land from which his people had to escape…and the land that offered them refuge, saving him from the wrath of his own king.

We know that we are shaped by our experiences. Jesus’ formative years were lived as a refugee and an immigrant. We don’t know how he and his family were treated in Egypt, but we do know that when the Israelites left Egypt before, it was with Pharaoh’s army on their heels. It seems likely that Jesus’ family might not have been welcomed with open arms, and in fact, might very well have been met with suspicion and fear. And, as many immigrants have experienced, they might have lived as outcasts the whole time they were in Egypt. Even when they returned “home,” the family moved to Nazareth rather than returning to Bethlehem; again there is some likelihood that the family lived on the edges of the community.

Jesus was born into a people who had a history of caring for the stranger, or the foreigner in their midst because that is what they had experienced time after time. The story of the stranger comes out of the Exodus.  In chapter 19 of Leviticus we are told: “You shall treat the alien who resides with you no differently than the natives born among you; have the same love for him as for yourself; for you too were once aliens in the Land of Egypt.” Israel’s very identity is that of the Immigrant as Foundress.  It is Ruth who says to Naomi:  whither thou goest I will go; your people shall be my people; your God will be my God.

In the genealogy of Christ in first chapter of Matthew’s Gospel there are four uppity women who are Strangers:  Ruth, an immigrant from Moab; Tamar, Judah’s daughter-in-law; Rahab, prostitute of Jericho; and Bathsheba, wife of Uriah the Hittite and an adulteress.  All of these women are depicted as foreign and/or disreputable to indicate the importance of disruption in the formation of Israel’s identity and the shaping of the Covenental tradition of both Jews and Christians.

In our own day and time we find ourselves in the midst of the debate about an appropriate immigration policy. One side of the debate can be symbolized by laws such as the one passed in Fremont; the other side of the debate can be symbolized by the proposed bill named “The Dream Act. In between these two examples are churches offering amnesty for undocumented immigrants and families being separated by deportation. Caught up in all of these actions are conversations about states’ rights, federal responsibility, and the role of compassion. There are no easy answers.

When I read today’s Gospel lesson, however, I begin to wonder how our current debate might be changed within our churches if the rumor were to arise that the Christ Child had been born somewhere south of the border. And even more so if the story were to include details about the family trying to keep this new child alive by any means possible—including entering this country without documentation—in order to escape the violence of the drug wars. Would such a story change how we responded to their plight—and if we are truly followers of this Christ Child—should we treat anyone’s child differently than we would treat him?

Jesus became the advocate for the poor and downtrodden of our world at least partially because his family experienced the necessity of fleeing to save his life. For us to cut ourselves off from the immigrant or the stranger is to cut ourselves off from the source of our own faith traditions—and from most of our own ancestors who immigrated to this country at some point in time. The Community Organizer, Ernesto Cortez, Jr. says:

“… our faith tradition calls us to reach out to the Stranger, to be able to befriend those who are other – not part of our tribe.  God is not just a noun, but a verb.  St. Thomas Aquinas taught that God is pure act.  And Nicholas Lash reminds us that there is no distinction between what God is and what God does.  The more we reflect God’s divinity in our actions, the more human we become.  If we are truly made in God’s image, then we are called to act – to welcome the stranger.”

This Christmas season we are reminded that Emmanuel—God-With-Us—came in the birth of this child. This incarnation allowed God to experience the ups and downs of our life…and in the process Christ learned a better way that can lead us into God’s kingdom.  May we experience his birth this year in a way that leads to our continued transformation…and to the coming of the reign of God.

Alleluia, Jesus is born! May our lives reflect the gift of his life. Amen.

Blessings of the season to all of you!

Living the Story

Happy 5th day of Christmas! For those of you who asked...my Christmas Eve sermon.

I imagine that since you are here at this time of night on Christmas Eve when there have been so many other opportunities to be present at worship prior to this, your Christmas doesn’t feel quite right without worship and candles and getting out of church just about midnight. I know that mine doesn’t; in fact, I think that I am still missing that from last Christmas Eve when we chose safety and canceled this service! So what is it about Christmas that makes us want to be out and about at an hour when most of us are happily at home?

I think I’ve heard it over and over again this Christmas season; it’s “the magic” of Christmas for which the advertising agency tells that we are seeking. It is in our TV ads, TV specials, and our Christmas cards. The good news of the Christmas season according to the media is that there will be Christmas magic that will bring about the resolution to all of our problems.

One of my favorite Christmas myths, one that plays particularly upon the “magic” hour of midnight is the one that says that all of creation is truly made one. In that instant, when the clock strikes midnight, all the differences between heaven, earth, peoples and animals, is lifted. In that precious time between the chiming of the first bell of midnight and the last, animals and people can speak with one another and enemies become friends. At the end of the ringing, the world returns to the world we recognize, but it is hoped that this brief taste of the reign of God will be enough to encourage us to continue to live out the love of Christ all the rest of the year.

As I was drifting in and out of sleep this past week trying to get over my cold, I saw an interview with a Jesuit priest who has written a book saying that not only has there been a war on Christmas—we have lost the war. He quoted several recent polls taken in America that asked people what the most important thing was about Christmas. 48% of those who responded said that the most important thing about Christmas was family and being together; 37% said that the birth of Jesus was the most important thing. Apparently, while we have been busy looking for the “magic” of Christmas, we have missed the meaning in the birth of this child.

One of our wise children this Christmas asked why we kept talking about the birth of baby Jesus when everyone knew that he had already been born, lived a meaningful life, was crucified and raised from the dead. With all of that in his résumé, why did we spend so much time talking about his birth? That question has rattled around in my mind for the last couple of weeks as we have spent time preparing for the birth of a child a couple of thousands of years ago. Out of the mouths of children!

It is a theological question that we struggle with from time to time. Over the last 20 years or so, we have heard that someone is stealing the meaning of Christmas, but the church has been worried about this before. Christmas was not celebrated in the Early Christian Church until the Roman Empire was converted and named the Christmas celebration to help people move away from the Saturnalia, the ancient mid-winter celebration of the Roman gods. Christmas celebrations had become so boisterous, with so much attention on food and wine, that they were outlawed in England for 22 years during the mid-1600s; and the Puritans of Boston also did not allow for any practice of “The Christmas Spirit” during the early years. Historians say that it was the middle of the 1800s when this country began to practice Christmas in a way that we now say we long for—a quiet day that is family centered.

Yet even in this practice of Christmas, where do we find Jesus? Where do we find the mystery and awe that belong in this season for Christians, without the puritanical measures that would not allow for lights and happy songs? What is “the Spirit of Christmas” that we are told Scrooge—after his Christmas Eve scare and repentance—kept better than any man alive?

Mary’s song, the Magnificat that we have repeated each week during Advent, proclaims that her son will come to bring about a new world…a new creation that is even more wonderful than the first creation of Adam and Eve. This time, God’s reign will be made manifest in the way in which we live our lives. The poor will be lifted up…not walked over; there will be food to feed the hungry, and an equality will come about. This is the Christmas proclamation—Jesus the baby born this night so many years ago will grow up and show us how to live in God’s kingdom of justice and peace.

But we have missed the message. Over and over again, we miss it. Every year Christmas comes again and we celebrate the Prince of Peace while we wage war. We don’t understand why our celebrations seem to leave us feeling a little empty inside…even when we have the “perfect” Christmas planned.

In Charlie Brown's Christmas Special, that classic TV program of my childhood, Charlie Brown yells out in frustration: "Isn't there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?" "Sure," replies Linus. "I can tell you."

Linus then relates the story of the birth of Jesus as told in the Gospel of Luke that we read tonight. The birth of Mary's child is announced by an angel who tells shepherds living in the field:

'Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.' And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace...(Luke 2 NRSV).

What happened on the day Jesus was born? God broke through into the world again - but this time not with the force of the Big Bang or some other cosmic event - no, this time it was something even more powerful: the miracle of the birth of a child filled promise and hope. Both that miracle and the message that this child (born homeless and poor) brings (again and again) is what Christmas is about.

Do not be afraid," says the angel. Those born in the time of Jesus also knew about war and hunger and social divisions. Jesus offered a vision a time when all that would end...a time when "the wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together..." (Isaiah 11:6 NRSV)...a time when all humanity would live in divine harmony with all creation, as it was meant to be in the beginning.

I believe that even in the midst of war, deep global poverty and environmental chaos caused by humanity the message of the Prince of Peace is as relevant today as it was over 2,000 years ago. "War is over, if you want it," is the refrain to John Lennon's holiday song. The singer was right. So are poverty, hunger and division. We just have to accept the gift given to us by God on the first Christmas when Mary gave birth to the hope of the world and abide by Jesus' message of extravagant love and radical justice. We no longer have to be afraid. Our salvation has been here all along. There is cause to pick up a hymnal and sing "Joy to the World" after all.

Merry Christmas.

Brrr. Baby, it's cold....

I'm sitting in my office with my hands wrapped around a hot cup of chai. In order to have this "cuppa," I had to go out of my 68 degree office and down the much cooler (Tom says mid-50s) hallway; I then stood in the cold kitchenette (also 55 degrees) for 2 1/2 minutes while the microwave heated my water to the appropriate temperature. Gratefully, I warmed my hands and walked back to my office. There is little question that First Church has a warm heart, but the hallways are cold!

The minor challenge of negotiating from warm rooms through cold corridors served as a reminder to me that I am very blessed. There are far too many in our world who don't have any, or at least adequate, protection from the weather. They live their lives in boxes and tunnels, trying to scrape by and make do with what can be found discarded by those of us who have too much.

My "too much" is all around me; books stacked in bags and piles, looking like I have just come from the store. The reality is that the bags are part of my "filing system" so that I can find the books I am looking for at any given moment. But there are also boxes of books at my house that I have not unpacked from my last move into a smaller home.

Most of the time I can overlook the boxes and bags, but last week our daughter Joy brought back much of the furniture with which we had furnished her apartment. She was downsizing, moving from a one-bedroom apartment to an efficiency, and she said that she had discovered that she had "too much stuff!" Back came my grandmother's dining room table, three chairs, a bookcase, a bed ("You will need the bed!" I said; "No, I'll be sleeping on the floor" Korean-style), odds and ends of dishes and foodstuffs. The garage is once again full...not that it had been empty prior to the arrival of the bits and pieces of her life, coming to mingle with us again; Joy is not back home, but many of the things associated with her are.

It is easy for us to accumulate things that we don't really need. Some people are better than others at divesting themselves of the excess; John and I both tend to hang on to things (and people), never knowing when they might be necessary once again. Advent is a season when thoughtful Christians tend to reflect on the state of our souls as we are awaiting the birth of the Christ Child once again.

Jesus' birth  is told as a story of a child whose family just barely had enough. We don't know how true that is, but we claim his birth as the birth of a child born to parents who are scraping by. Jesus, born in a manger, is born in a town where his parents apparently have no near family, and shortly after his birth they flee for their lives and raise the boy as an exile in Egypt.

Wandering parents...life lived in exile...no wonder Jesus claimed that he had no place to call "home!" And without a home, no way to collect a library...a closet full of clothes...china cabinets...and.... Joy brought back many of the things that we had given her (and some that she had collected on her own) and declared that she "never wanted to have so much stuff again!" We looked at her box of Christmas things, carefully packed and labled "Danger," and smiled. Now where will we keep this box?

My cup is empty, but my heart is full. Advent is here and the weather reminds me to think of others. A friend is collecting sleeping bags to pass out to the homeless in Denver CO on Christmas Day; a local friend, Beatty Brasch has ways of helping the poor (especially the working poor) here in Lincoln. I have been blessed by so much. It is time to find ways to share with others...anybody need a table?

The World is about to Turn

I have had several requests to post Sunday's sermon, so...here it is. Still, I must say that they are much better preached...enfleshed...filled with the Spirit in the moment. Preaching is a very incarnational thing...

"Once upon a time there was a thief. He wasn’t really good at it. Not a professional at all. He was just a poor man, with hungry children and a wife who worked hard. He worked sometimes, but more often than not there was no job to be had and so no food either for hungry mouths. It hurt him to see his wife and children suffer so much and made him angry that there was no pity in the kingdom, no kindness or generosity in his neighbors.  He took a chance, a big chance, and stole some food. The king’s law was death by hanging if a thief was caught. He got away with it often. He took bread, apples, and flour when he could and sometimes a ribbon or two for the one he loved.

But he wasn’t good at it. He was just poor and hungry and desperate, and finally he got caught, with the bread in hand. He was jailed and sentenced to be hanged until dead, in public for all to see, as a warning to others. He was desperate, for life, for his family, and for their futures. In jail the night before the execution he told one of the guards in confidence that it was a shame that he would die tomorrow, for a secret, a great secret, and a skill would die with him. Too bad he couldn’t tell the secret to someone who could use it wisely or get it to the king, who certainly would be interested in it.

The jailer said that he’d be happy to take the secret of the dying man. And so the man told him: “I can take a pomegranate seed, plant it in the ground, water it, and make it grow so that it will bear fruit overnight. My father taught it to me, as his father taught him, for generations. But tomorrow it dies with me.”

The jailer could hardly believe his ears and immediately brought word to the king. The next day, before the execution the king arrived and had the poor man brought forward. “Let me see you do this marvelous thing,” the king commanded and so the man asked for a spade, dug a hole, asked for a pomegranate seed, and then turned to the king and spoke: “This seed can only be planted by someone who has never stolen anything in his life or someone who has never taken anything that did not belong to him by right. Of course, I am a thief, caught stealing bread for my children and wife, so I can’t plant it. You’ll have to have someone else do it.”

The king turned to his counselor and commanded him to plant it. The man froze and stuttered: “Tour majesty, I can’t”

“What do you mean you can’t?” the king uttered.

The counselor explained, “Once, when I was young, before I was in your employ, I took something from a house where I was staying. I returned it, of course, but I can’t plant it.”

The King was annoyed and turned to his treasurer and commanded him to plant it. The man went chalk white and shook. “I can’t, your majesty,” he confessed.

“What, you, too? What have you done? Have you stolen from me?”

“No, no, my king,” he protested, “but I work with figures, calculating all the time, and it’s easy to make mistakes, and I am forever trying to balance accounts, taking from here to put there. Whit huge sums of money, and deeds, contracts, and so on it’s easy to overlook something. Besides I often have to make deals with people so that better deals can be made later. It’s business, sire.”

The king turned to another, and instinctively the next man shrunk away from him. It was the poor man who spoke next. “Your majesty, perhaps you could plant it yourself.” This time it was the king who hesitated. So many things went through his mind. He remembered stealing from his father in anger, impatient to be king himself and wanting that power and freedom, that access to wealth. The poor man spoke boldly, “Your majesty, even you cannot plat the seed, you who are mighty with power over life and death; you who have wealth and much more than you need to live on; you who make laws that destroy even the poor who are desperately hungry and caught in the web of others’ greed and insensitivity. You can’t plant the seed. You are a thief. Why are you so hard on me, a poor man who stole bread to feed his family? You are going to hang me, leaving others in need with no recourse.”

The king stopped. He heard, thank heaven, and repented of his harshness and injustice, his callousness and disdain for others. He pardoned the man who reminded him to first change the laws and then to work at making life worth living for so many in his kingdom. The king was impressed with the poor man’s wisdom, cleverness, and understanding and took him into his employ. Things began to change…or so the story goes. Would that it were true for all those who hear this tale told today."

Story adapted and re-told from Megan McKenna,

“Advent, Christmas and Epiphany:

Stories and Reflections on the Sunday Readings”

It has been said that the spiritual journey most often begins in brokenness. Certainly for the thief and king in our story today this is true. It is also the model we find in our Gospel lesson for today. John the Baptist recognizes the brokenness in his society, in his people, and in the world they inhabit, and he calls them all to repent…to do things differently than they had been doing them.

There is great wisdom in this saying. Those who study human behavior say that we seldom will make lasting changes in our behavior until we must make changes to save our lives. Not only is this true for individuals, it is true for tribal groups and countries, too. John the Baptist, taking his cue from prophets before him issues the call, and the people sensing the truth in his words and fearing that once again they will be taken into exile, flock to be baptized.

Mary had heard the promise year’s before. Once she had accepted the commissioning to bear Jesus, the son of God, she set out to visit a distant relative. Once there, she revealed that she had indeed been blessed with the child who would once again change the course of the world. Mary’s song, as it is recorded for us in the Gospel of Luke, echoes the song of Hannah in 1^st Samuel…and the prophecies of Isaiah and Jeremiah:

Mary said, “My soul exalts the Lord, and my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior.  For He has had regard for the humble state of His handmaiden; for behold, for this time on all generations will count me blessed. For the Mighty One has done great things for me; and holy is His name. And His mercy is upon generation after generation toward those who fear Him.  He has done mighty deeds with His arm; He has scattered those who were proud in the thoughts of their heart.  He has brought down rulers from their thrones, and has exalted those who were humble.  He has filled the hungry with good things; and sent away the rich empty-handed.  He has given help to Israel His servant, in remembrance of His mercy, as He spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and his descendants forever.” Luke 1:46-55

God will bring down the mighty and lift up the poor and marginalized. Those are the proud affirmations that Mary brings to us, and this is the leader for whom John the Baptist prepares us.

On this second Sunday in Advent we find ourselves in the desert with the Baptizer and the multitudes who have heard his call. But it is not enough for us to stay there; we are called to live in our own time and hear the voice of God for our own lives. Who are the poor and marginalized in our world that we are called to care for? What are the structures that must be changed in order for us to “prepare the way” for the reign of God to break into Lincoln NE, December 2010? Where are we and our society broken and of what do we need to repent?

Today we are taking an offering to care for those who are living with AIDS; we have called it an “AIDS Awareness Offering” because that is part of the purpose for gathering the money, but the purpose is to raise funds to care for those who suffer from this terrible disease. Raising awareness also helps us to address the issues that surround this marginalized population, both here and around the world. We invite you, not only to give, but to learn more about the work that is being done to care for those living on the edges of health and healing.

On Tuesday night, we have the opportunity to go and listen to Lincoln’s own herald; Nebraskans for Peace, Lincoln Chapter, has invited Beatty Brasch to share with us the face of poverty in Lincoln. At 7:00 p.m. you are all invited to go to the Center for People in Need on N. 27^th Street and hear about what poverty looks like right here at home; you will have the chance to volunteer and help Beatty meet some of the need for local folks. I invite you to come and see the amazing work that she—and a whole host of others are doing to “fill the hungry with good things.”

The thief in the story raises the question of the fairness of the laws that condemn him. In doing so, he challenges the assumptions of his society. The birth of Jesus, born to a poor young mother who proclaims her place in changing the world, is set to help turn the world around. John the Baptist calls for us to repent—let’s join Mary in transforming evil and corrupt systems in our own time and place.

We give God our thanks and praise for the opportunity to be change agents in our world. Thanks be to God! Amen.

Advent Waiting

A number of years ago, I wrote a poem about the season of Advent. At the time, my husband and I were going through difficult times; in fact, I had been living with a friend for a couple of months while we were going through marriage counseling. As part of that counseling, we had agreed to spend Advent in prayer together, studying the scriptures and talking about our relationship.

Even though we weren't living together, we made a covenant to meet each evening. In preparation for this great undertaking, I wrote the following poem:

                                     Slowly, I take my first tentative steps
                                         on my journey through Advent,
                                         my hopes and fears adding their colors
                                         to the red and green of the Christmas season.
                                    With the breathless anticipation of a child
                                         I watch Advent unfold,
                                         each day presenting me with
                                         challenges and opportunities
                                         like treasures hidden behind
                                         the doors of childhood's Advent calendars.
                                    What will I find in your heart tonight?

We met with such hope that, in the mystery and wonder of Christmas trees and candles, we would again find the magic of love that had brought us together. It was a great deal of pressure to put on one another during an already stressful season.

As a pastor, I see this scene played out over and over again during the holidays. Families that are busy with separate activities during all of the rest of the year, come together over a Thanksgiving turkey or a Christmas tree. Everyone brings high hopes that, this year, conflict and hurt feelings will magically melt away and be healed. Sometimes that happens...but most often the brokenness remains.

John the Baptist knew the brokenness of people. He went out into the wilderness and called people to come away--away from the busyness of their lives, away from family and friends--and come to the water to be washed clean. "Repent!" he cried, inviting them to turn around...to turn back to God and away from the things that had led them away from the love of God.

The Hebrew people repeated daily, several times a day, "Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one. And you shall love the Lord they God with all your heart, and with all your soul and with all your might." (Deut. 6:4-5). The "Shema," as this was called was to be written on the forehead, the hand, and the door posts of their homes so that they would never forget it; it was designed to keep God always before them. And yet, being human beings (often described as "sheep") they tended to wander off. John the Baptist reminded them to return to holding God always in their sight.

That's a lot of what my Advent poem did for me...for us. It was a reminder to re-focus on the love that had brought us together. That year, our wilderness wanderings in Advent led me back home, just days before Christmas. The tentativeness of the poem was matched by our equally tentative journey toward God and one another. That Christmas was quiet and profound, rich with new meaning for us both.

As we begin Advent this year, I find that I am hearing John the Baptist's voice loud and clear: "Turn around!" he cries. "Turn from the busyness and the chaos and focus on God." I brought out my poem again and "Slowly, I take my first tentative steps...on my journey through Advent." I wonder what God will find in my heart tonight?

Blessings for your Advent turnings and wanderings!