Ramblings

Christmas Eve 2016

Sermon based on Luke 2: 1-14. "Wrapped in swaddling clothes," that's the phrase I heard growing up.  Mary wrapped her first born son in swaddling clothes.  Now we say, "wrapped in bands of cloth," which is a more accurate translation, but much less poetic, don't you think? Or perhaps you prefer the artistic license on the front of some of your bulletins --- a shiny, plump naked baby.

To say that Jesus was swaddled or wrapped is not unusual. As all Jewish children when they were born, were washed in water, rubbed with salt, and then wrapped in strips of cloth, or "swaddling clothes."

The idea behind swaddling of course is that it helps the baby transition from the womb --- a very snug place --- to the outside world. Swaddling clothes are still used in many cultures today, but with some modifications. I can just imagine a quilt made by one of our many churches gifted through Lutheran World Relief wrapped around a refugee newborn, material sewed with care touching an unknown refugee, newborn. In general, wrapping has been proved to help infants sleep better, to prevent them from scratching themselves, and to reduce the risk of SIDS. At the time of Jesus, a swaddled infant was understood to be in safety if wrapped and watched properly.

The Biblical passages that refers to swaddling or wrapping cloth occurs twice --- both in Luke: "And she gave birth to her first-born son and wrapped him bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn." We can assume from the fact that the couple wrapped the baby Jesus that they were attentive parents and followed the customs of the day.

It is the second reference however, that has received more attention, swaddling is revealed when the angel who spoke to the shepherds on the hillside mentions wrapped cloth as part of the sign to the shepherds that they had found the Messiah: "This will be a sign for you; you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger."

Over the centuries, much has been made of this connection of swaddling with sign. Some commentators reference an obscure portion of a passage from a book called the Wisdom of Solomon. Commentators suggest that this sign is a reference to Christ's place in the Davidic line, and his rightful place as heir to the Throne of David.

Other commentators, particularly the church fathers who tried to find metaphor in everything, suggest the swaddling clothing used by Mary and Joseph are a sign of the strips of cloth used in burial rites. In other words, this wrapping foreshadows Jesus's later death.

I've never liked those interpretations not only because cloth for burial uses a completely different word, and ignores the fact that nearly everyone did the same. And I have never liked the reference from the Wisdom of Solomon because it is out of what is called the Apocrypha; books with doubtful authorship and conflicted history. But more importantly, the image of Jesus wrapped speaks to something much larger for me. It is a visible mixture of Christmas, the mystery and the common bundled together, a sign of the gift.

The mystery is of course, how God doesn't hide from us, but comes into our world. God isn't aloof; God is with us, Emmanuel. The unimaginable God took unimaginable action. The German writer Goethe described it as: "The highest cannot be spoken; it can only be acted." God acted on that first Christmas. This unknowable, inconceivable God, far beyond us, entered our world. And God came into the world not as a demi-god but as a tiny, helpless, human infant, born in obscurity, to a plain, peasant couple. The infinite God, beyond all boundaries, takes on the limitations not only of time and space, but of a human form --- of one who suffers pain and anxiety; one who experiences joy.

All this is wrapped into the common cotton strips of life. Now God has a face --- of a 1^st century male Jew in Palestine. Jesus was a certain man, from a definitive place, who was born at a specific time, with parents like you and me. God reveals God's self on a night in time, in a place called Bethlehem.

All this mystery and common wrapped together begins in a backwater part of the world, born suddenly, on the road, in a lowly cave like animal shelter, near a no-vacancy inn. The places are real, Nazareth in Galilee, and Bethlehem, the House of Bread, in Judea.

Furthermore, this was not into a vacuum, for no time is free of deep undercurrents, for a conflicting religious-political world swirled. The other Roman province of Syria, was tussling with Rome over Palestine's borders, the Parthian empire in present day Iran was a constant hazard and Emperor Augustus, the ruler and restorer of a new age in the Roman Empire did so with a power politics of "take-no-prisoners." Yet, all these currents are totally unaware of Jesus, the embryonic Prince of Peace, laying all tightly wrapped in bands of cloth by a teenage mother, and a soon to fade into oblivion father.

Heaven bends to earth; earth lifts to heaven and sits bundled in a feeding trough. Thus, is born the savior of the world --- all swaddled, all wrapped up, a gift in a poopy baby.

What does this all mean for us who live in a 21^st culture, where we for the most part do not give birth in stables, but in sterile suites? The gift that is Jesus, the Christ child born and wrapped into our world this night, begins a journey teaching us about God. From a baby, onwards we learn God is not a distant far away God, like an aloof or judgmental parent.  But God enters the fray we are in, living here in the material world.  We can almost smell the animals, manure, urine and hay Jesus was born into, see the blood and struggle of the birth, feel the shocking poverty of the rustic shepherds. This we know is only the beginning.

This leads to the second part of the gift wrapped in this baby. Jesus is the bread of life, born in Bethlehem, the city of bread. God becomes tangible to us, as tasty and as fulfilling as Communion's thanksgiving meal. 

This Jesus, who begins as a full human being enters with a "borning" cry as a new born child birthed from a squatting mother received into the hands of an expectant father, with gurgling sounds all initiating and incarnating God's Holy Word and life-giving mission. It is in the words of a cooing baby that God begins the healing of our inequities, and the restoration of God's justice and peace.

Christmas is the celebration of this incarnational intertwining wrapped up earth and heaven, sacred and secular, hay and communion bread.

So, tonight, we stand in awe at each of them and marvel at the package. In Jesus, redeemer of the world, this present gifted to us, is not based on if we have been "naughty or nice." This baby is not a living "Elf on a Shelf," reporting back to a Santa God.

Instead, God sends Jesus to us where we are, among us and with us, among our joys and sorrows. God presents to us a little new-born child wrapped in bands of cloth, lying in a manger, with grubby shepherds the only witnesses, his first believers.  In this action, God says despite our grubbiness, and our flaws and failures, I give you this Messiah, this Reconciler, the Savior and Prince of Peace as promised.  Jesus, a gift by way of the Holy Spirit, wrapped in traditional human birth clothes of the time, begins to unwrap us from our own self-importance, and re-wraps our lives in the incarnate gift born among us.

This is God with us, the bread of life, the bread of heaven; all wrapped up for us to open each day. Merry Christmas for the gift is wrapped and waiting! Amen.

Hang out to dry – 12/11/2016

Sermon based on the gospel Matthew 11: 2-11. Back in 1998, the clothes dryer in Nicols Fox's home stopped working. It was old and worn out, and she was struggling to pay bills, so Ms. Fox came to the conclusion that it wasn't worth repairing or replacing. Instead, she began to hang her laundry on a clothesline, believing that this would spare her the cost of a new dryer, save a little money on her utility bill, and give her some exercise.

No big deal, right? Wrong. Her decision to string up a clothesline unleashed a firestorm. For example, a friend of hers found the practice revolting. "You hang out your clothes; like your underwear?" she asked in horror. As the local media attention grew Ms. Fox had to defend herself against charges of being a "Luddite" --- although not historical accurate a "luddite" has become a loose term to describe someone who by principal is opposed to machinery and technology in general. But hold on, wait a second, insists Ms. Fox: "When precisely did the clothesline become the symbol of being a Luddite?"

The reason we know all this is because Ms. Fox has written a book --- on a computer --- about her experience titled: "Against the Machine: The Hidden Luddite Tradition in Literature, Art and Individual Lives." Link

What Ms. Fox argues in her book is that she has learned that science and technology have become the cultural "lingua franca," meaning that science and technology have become the standard answer to many if not most of our problems. Dryer doesn't work, buy a new one. Children are struggling in school, get them a laptop. Mom is dying in the hospital, what is the latest new medication or medical device to extend their life. Instead Ms. Fox suggests we should be asking what she calls "the clothesline question;" What choices should I make to live a life of meaning and significance?

What Ms. Fox is suggesting is that it's the questions that really matter, more than the answers. I thought about her point as we dwell in Advent in preparation for Christmas.

Because if you think about it, when we ask these deeper clothesline questions --- every time we wonder whether it makes sense to follow the crowd, whether we really should keep up with the neighbors, whether we ought to conform to conventional wisdom, whether we must give in to peer pressure, whether we need to support the status quo --- we may be surprised with our answers. While we don't all have to abandon our clothes dryers, and string up lines between our pecan trees, every one of us is not only challenged to discover for ourselves what makes for a faithful life --- a life of significance and meaning but in asking those questions we may be startled at our answers.

Not only is this important but today we are reminded what we're calling "the clothesline question" are Biblical questions and we are following in the path of two models. Both John the Baptist and Jesus raised these questions on numerous occasions. They weren't afraid to buck the trend, go against the grain, and rub people the wrong way in pursuit of those questions.

For John the Baptist the first recorded opportunity to see that is when he first appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming as we heard last week, "Repent, for the reign of heaven has come near." He invites people to turn their lives around, and they respond to his call by meeting him at the River Jordan to confess and be baptized.

And just like the response to Ms. Fox, not everyone appreciated his approach however, and the package it came in. When the power structure from Jerusalem --- described as the "Pharisees and the Sadducees" --- came down to the river for baptism, John says to them, "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruit worthy of repentance!" Essentially John is criticizing what this power structure had become; their deeds did not match with what they were teaching. It is essentially a clothesline question, in that John was asking shouldn't their deeds be dictated by what they were teaching, not the other way around.

Nonetheless, John himself struggled with those clothesline questions later; we hear that in today's lesson when John the Baptist from jail for criticizing King Herod for marrying his brother' wife, sends a fundamental question to Jesus, asking, "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?" How can this be? Didn't John baptize Jesus? Is this some loss of faith? Not at all! Rather I believe this is an indication to us that John is genuinely able to ask those important questions --- to challenge even what he had come to believe --- regardless of what he thought of earlier, in spite of the cost. John has been expecting the Messiah to scorch the earth with fiery judgment, gather the good people to himself and burn the bad "with unquenchable fire." His concept of a Messiah is clearly informed by his background and a view fortified by his world view of secular administrations and global armies.

Jesus challenges John by asking new questions with a focus on the work of compassion. He answers John by saying, "the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me." The unasked question is clear…is that not a sign?

What this means for us is that neither John the Baptist nor Jesus feels any compulsion to follow the crowd, keep up with the neighbors, conform to conventional wisdom, or give in to pressure. If they did, they would have dressed in soft robes and hung around in royal palaces. John would not be prison. Instead, John puts on Elijah's designer outfit of camel's hair and prepares the way for Jesus by challenging all of us what does repentance mean. Jesus leaves his home and family and goes off on a mission of cleansing lepers, bringing good news to the poor, and proclaiming the reign of God, challenging all of us what does a messiah mean. They both follow what God commands of them, rather than what society expects of them. They both are willing to change the questions to go towards the answer that God has promised.

The cost for Ms. Fox was media attention and loss of a few friends. For Jesus and John, they each pay a steep price for bucking the status quo. As it turns out, there are plenty of people who take offense at what John and Jesus are asking? John later has his head handed to him --- or, to be biblically accurate, he has his head handed to Herodias, the unlawful wife of Herod. Jesus reaches the end of his earthly ministry when he is nailed to a cross, unjustly convicted of blasphemy and sedition.

So, we might wonder, is it worth asking the questions considering the cost? Does it make sense to raise those fundamental clothesline questions this advent season about our lives if the world is going to respond by putting our heads on a platter or our bodies on a cross?

Absolutely because the whole point of this clothesline approach is to grow in Christ and prepare for the reign of God. Although the world does not always appreciate them, clothesline questions help to --- hang out our laundry to dry --- in or in the words of John --- to repent, to change course. Did Southerners appreciate abolitionist preachers in the early 19th century? Not that I've read. But if those preachers had not raised theological questions about slavery, we might still be living with that oppressive institution. Did white Christians enjoy listening to black activist pastors in the 1960s? Many did not. But if they had not considered the questions raised by these pastors, there would have been far less support for the civil rights movement. And if Protestant churches had refused to listen to questions about the role of women in the church, not only would there not be enough pastors, there would be no female pastors --- who happen to be some of the best preachers in the pulpit today. If our denomination had refused to listen to questions about our welcome and inclusion of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer people in all aspects of the life in this church, we would not be blessed in our mutual growth as children of God.

These clothesline questions hung out to dry can generate controversy, no doubt about it. These clothesline questions can be experienced as acts of defiance and cause shake-ups in the status quo. But when they are raised and considered and discussed, with civility, they often lead us toward healthier discipleship. It's the raising of these questions that helps the blind to see, the lame to walk, the deaf to hear, and the poor to receive good news.

What are some clothesline questions for us today? Well for one, why are women and children abandoning their homes and crossing hundreds of miles to get to the United States? It can't all be because of some fake news story that President Obama is giving out free citizenship. Isn't the violence and abject poverty in their nations of which we are ourselves are partly to blame also not a part? And then driving to church this morning I was reminded of another clothesline question: Are the working poor best served by payday and car title loans at astronomical interest rates the best response to the need for bridge and emergency loans? If that is not challenging enough should we dare questions about our congregation? For example, are we struggle with fewer and fewer members against being inward - focused as a congregation, how can we put more energy into looking outward? Outward-looking congregations are constantly establishing relationships in the community and by doing so discover what God is doing.

Then there are the very personal clothesline questions, the dirty laundry as they say that only each of us can pursue. Perhaps the reason we come up with the same answers is because we are asking the wrong questions. So, in this season of Advent as we prepare for the son-rise of Christmas, let us struggle to discover the questions we may need to ask of what really matters, rather than trusting in the answers that we have already received or come to believe. In that way, we are following in the footsteps of John the Baptist and Jesus. In that way, we may be ready for the surprise birth of a baby in Bethlehem as an answer. Amen.

Limb Climbing – 12/4/2016

Sermon preached at Abiding Presence Lutheran based on Matthew 3: 1-12. Back in 1983, the actresses Shirley MacLaine climbed out on a limb, and then wrote a book about it: Out on a Limb. In this time era of Kardashian over exposure, MacLaine titled her book as such because it begins with a personal revelation of an intense and secretive relationship with a prominent politician. That relationship sparked a spiritual quest that she laid out in her book.

It wasn't long before law professor F. Legard Smith wrote a Christian response called: Out on a Broken Limb. Professor Smith counters MacLaine's view she detailed in her book that in this quest she had come to discover her previous lives and she was now living her most recent reincarnation. Reincarnation is a concept that a living being starts a new life in a different physical body after each death.

Well, whatever you may think of Ms. MacLaine, living out on a limb means we must be prepared to challenge and be challenging. Limb-climbing skills aren't required only of overly inquisitive felines or other tree-dwelling daredevils such as exuberant 8-year-olds, solitude-seeking teenagers, a parent showing their kids how to fly a kite, or anyone in love. All Advent celebrating Christians are being called to "go out on a limb" for the coming of Jesus Christ.

If you don't believe me, look no further than our lesson from Matthew. Nobody went out on a limb with quite the same audacity and flair as --- John the Baptist. Called to play the role of Jesus' Elijah --- the prophet who was expected to appear before the arrival of the messiah --- John seemed to take delight in clambering out onto some of the highest, riskiest and most visible limbs he could find.

First, John climbs out on the limb of personality. Instead of trying to appear like a reasonable fellow in a suit and tie with a saleable message, John decks himself out in an odd outfit that clearly has the "Elijah" designer label sewn into it; the same Elijah described in 2 Kings as a "hairy man, with a leather belt around his waist." While perched on this fashion-statement limb, the crowd who gazed and gawked at John the Baptist could not miss the theological significance.

Second, John climbs out on the limb of audacity. He hikes up his hair shirt and scurries out onto the limb that challenged authority. From the vantage point of his risky limb-tip, John taunts and jeers at an approaching crowd filled with movers and shakers --- including two religious groups Sadducees and Pharisees --- from the power establishment drawn there by the crowds. I can just imagine what they must have expected. They may have known that John's father was a respected priest. Possibly they assumed that John the son would show respect for the memory of his deceased father and his religious upbringing. Instead, John called them all a "brood of vipers."

John climbs out on the limb of proclamation. The most important limb John clings to is the way-out-there declaration that God is daring to act in the lives of humanity gathering there on the banks of the Jordan. Not in the future but now; the time has arrived. God is inaugurating a new era of divine presence and purpose.

Well, what does John's limb climbing have to do with us? John did not take up these high-altitude perches just for the thrill of it or from an overdose of locust & honey Red Bull. Rather, all this "X-game" limb-sitting served a definite purpose. As wild as John the Baptist's behavior might have appeared too many, it followed the soon-to-be established guidelines for "faithful limb-sitting."

Who knew that dwelling in Advent would carry such chances to imitate Tarzan as we watch for the coming of God. But if you think about it, where else may we be most aware of the wind of the Holy Spirit? Advent preparation is not simply hunkering down for the storm to pass through, but climbing above the thick canopy of life to catch the breeze and oncoming sunrise. So what might some guidelines be to help us climb?

Guideline #1 - We go out on a limb because that's where the fruit is. John went because he knew he could find there the fruit sought by so many of his occupied, poor, anxious, and weary generation. John gladly dangled from the end of the wilderness to proclaim the coming of the Messiah. For the Messiah to come, John, had to announce this new age to the world. So, when Jesus finally arrived on the banks of the Jordan to receive John's baptism, the Baptist knew his limb-sitting took on new meaning. He had at last reached out and grabbed this strange "fruit" he had been longing for. But that is for next week's sermon.

The second guideline is more subtle: If we go out on a limb as disciples, be selective and go out on a big one --- there is more support. John the Baptist invokes the authority of no less than two prophetic figures --- not just Elijah --- but Isaiah as well. Convinced of the importance and timeliness of his message, he not only went, he started swinging from it. "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near," he proclaimed. The reign of God has come near --- an audacious limb, then as now!

However, it is the third guideline of limb-climbing that is hit hard by John in today's recounting from Matthew: If there is no fruit, don't go out at all.

John the Baptist's indictment of the power structures reminds us that not all limbs bear fruit. And that is okay. Limbs that cannot be depended upon for good fruit God will cut off and use for other things. Whether it is to refine or to make a blazing bonfire --- God doesn't waste anything. Just as God makes neither mistakes nor blunders, sometimes the best "fruit" a limb can offer is the light and heat it gives off when it is set ablaze. For example, when questioned about why people came to listen to him preach and teach, the 17^th century British Episcopal priest John Wesley is said to have remarked, "I really don't know. All I can figure out is that the Holy Spirit sets me on fire and people come to watch me burn."

But perhaps we are keeping an important assumption to ourselves that we need to acknowledge; why go limb-climbing in the first place? The term, "out-on-a-limb," is a movement away from the safety and security of the trunk of the tree, toward the wispy, thin, appendages. If I already feel little kitten, stretched out, barely hanging on, why go limb climbing…because God did.

The greatest limb ever climbed was when God came into the world as a little baby. And of course, Jesus himself went out on an unbelievably precarious limb for the sake of the whole world when he was nailed to the limbs of the cross.

God did it for us. John the Baptist did it for us, Jesus did it for us. The Holy Spirit wants to do it through us. So where do we begin? I want to tell you a story retold in an advent devotional called: Walking into the Light written by a friend of mine Chuck Sandy. Link

He wrote: "Not long ago I was grocery shopping with my parents. On the drive in, we heard devastating news. There'd been another mass shooting. My father switches the radio off and we ride along in silence. What is there to say? A few minutes later, we're getting out of the car in front of the supermarket when this woman comes rushing over with her arms flung open wide. 'Oh, my God!' she cries out. 'It's so good to see you!' Not missing a beat, my mother smiles her warmest smile and says, 'It's so good to see you too!' Then they hug as if they're long-lost sisters.

After a while, the woman steps back, looks at my mother, and says, 'I really needed that. Thank you.' My mother smiles and says, 'Me, too. Thank you." They exchange a few more words, and then the woman's gone. 'Who was that?' I ask, thinking this was someone from my parents' church or maybe some distant cousin. 'I have no idea,' says my mother, 'but it seemed like she really needed a hug, so why not?' Yes, why not?"

Will we be open to a hug this Advent season? Will we climb out on an advent limb for the fruit of reconciliation? Is God calling us to crawl and inch our way out to meet someone with forgiveness and love? Or perhaps this advent we need to climb out on the advent limb for the fruit of intimacy. Is God calling us to let go of our grounded pride and disclose our thinking, hurting, planning, dreaming self to our spouse, partner or another person who is longing to really know us? Then of course there is the advent limb for the fruit of healing. Is God challenging us to reach out for emotional and spiritual healing for some long-festering wounds?

I don't know what your next limb may be; perhaps we are still working on our courage so we do not recoil at every stranger whether black, white or brown. Nonetheless let us be ready for those moments to stretch ourselves a little higher.

So, my advent prayer for you and I is simple. May we crawl and scrunch and inch and bump and bounce our way out onto the limbs where God has placed the fruit, may we be strengthened this Advent, as we model John the Baptist, renewed ready for the next limb. And may we strengthen others as they begin their journey --- deeper and farther --- because in dangerous times, every limb, like every hug, matters. Amen.