YEAR A 2026 baptism of our lord

Baptism of Our Lord
Isaiah 42:1-9
Acts 10:34-43
Matthew 3:13-17
Psalm 29

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

When John the baptizer objects to Jesus coming to be baptized, Jesus says “Let it be so now; for it is proper in this way to fulfill all righteousness.”  Different translations offer a different word for “proper” here, and I have to say I’m not a fan of proper.  Because to our ears it has connotations of uppity Anglican decorum.  Like proper etiquette.  Or leaving the Christmas tree up until Epiphany; you know like a proper household.  The word “appropriate” is also offered, but it sounds a bit grudging, with hints of “just enough.”  So of all the options I’ve seen, I think “fitting” is the best choice.  It is not required, but it is fitting.  There was no need for Jesus to be baptized, but it is fitting, to fulfill all righteousness.  It is fitting.  Or, as we might say in Rite I, “It is meet and right so to do.”

So, people are coming to John to be baptized, to wash away their sins and as a sign of repentance.  But Jesus has no sin and no need to repent, so John objects.  Like Jesus is messing it all up, right?  Why should Jesus be baptized?  Because it is fitting.  It is not necessary, but it is fitting.  You could say, Jesus is standing in the water with us as an act of solidarity.  It is not necessary, but it is fitting, to fulfill all righteousness.

And maybe that’s the lesson for us today.  A call to do what we don’t have to do for the sake of standing with others.  Things that are not necessary, but are fitting.  And maybe Jesus is setting an example for us.  Particularly contrary to our individualistic American mindset.  We often react to things with an attitude of, “Don’t tell me what to do!”  Or, before we do something for someone, we might ask ourselves, “What’s in it for me?”  And in today’s example, there’s nothing in it for Jesus to be baptized.  None of the benefits come to him.  He is without sin, without need of repentance.  For Jesus to be baptized is not necessary, but it is fitting.

We have lots of things we already do that fall into this pattern.  We don’t have to decorate the Altars with linens and flowers, but it is fitting.  We don’t have to have music or a choir, but it is fitting.  We don’t have to open our doors to the Girl Scouts or recovery groups, but it is fitting.  We don’t have to let our neighbors park their cars in our parking lot, but it is fitting.  We don’t have to commit a certain amount each month to the Rector’s Discretionary Fund to help the poor, but it is fitting.  In all of these ways, and so many more, we are consistently pushing against the grain of the self-sufficient independent culture that surrounds us.  The “what’s in it for me” way of relating to others.  We don’t have to do it, but it is fitting.

And since I sure do love to wade into the waters of a controversy, I’ll note that we are currently in the midst of a surge of both the flu and covid in Ohio, and the recommendation is to wear masks again for a while when we’re in close quarters.  We don’t have to wear masks or get vaccinated in order to protect the health of our neighbors, but it is fitting.

Shortly after I began my time as your Rector, Anne Smith of blessed memory mentioned to me that she had gotten her flu shot because the chemo treatments had weakened her immunity, and the flu was particularly dangerous for her.  And I said, “Yeah, I don’t get flu shots because if I do get the flu, it’s not going to kill me.”  And she said, “Yes, but it could kill me!”  And the next day I went and got a flu shot—not for myself, but for Anne.  And since then, I get a flu shot every year, as Cristin and I just did on Friday.  It’s not in the Rector’s contract that they have to get a flu shot, but it is fitting.

I’m sure you have heard what happened in Minneapolis this past week.  And I’m sure you have an opinion about it.  In fact, given how divided we have become in our country, one could guess your political voting pattern based solely on your reaction to what happened in Minnesota.  But no matter where you come down on the finer points of the direction of a car’s tires, and whether any of this needed to happen, three children are now orphans because their mother was executed.  We don’t have to care about Renee’ Good or her children, but it is fitting that we do.

And, I might as well just say it.  We don’t have to care what happens to refugees and foreigners in our country, but it is fitting that we do.  And I’m not the first one to say this . . .

When a foreigner resides among you in your land, do not mistreat them. The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt. I am the Lord your God. — Leviticus 19:33-34

Do not take advantage of a hired worker who is poor and needy, whether that worker is a fellow Israelite or a foreigner residing in one of your towns. — Deuteronomy 24:14

This is what the Lord says: Do what is just and right. Rescue from the hand of the oppressor the one who has been robbed. Do no wrong or violence to the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow, and do not shed innocent blood in this place. — Jeremiah 22:3

And I’ll say it again: we don’t have to care what happens to refugees and foreigners, but it is fitting that we do.  

In a few minutes, we will renew our Baptismal Covenant together.  The rubrics allow us to replace the Creed with the Covenant a few times a year, and the Baptism of Jesus is one of the days.  And in that time, you and I will make some promises before God and one another.  Specifically, promises about honoring God in other people, and treating our neighbors with respect and dignity.  They are promises, not requirements.  And there it is again: We don’t have to do those things, but it is fitting.  And I believe we can and we will, with God’s help.

Meanwhile, the thing to hold onto this morning is this:
There is no need for Jesus to be baptized by John.  But he is, because it is fitting.  People come to be baptized to have their sin washed away.  Jesus (who knew no sin) stands in the water with us (the ones who need repentance) as an act of solidarity in order to fulfill all righteousness.  You can think of it as Jesus saying, “Come on in!  The water’s fine!”  We don’t have to get in the water with him, but it is fitting that we do.

Amen

YEAR A 2026 christmas 2

Christmas 2, 2026
Jeremiah 31:7-14
Ephesians 1:3-6,15-19a
Matthew 2:1-12
Psalm 84:1-8

They left for their own country by another road. —Mt. 2:12

 In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Isn't it strange that Matthew tells us, “When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him.”  All Jerusalem with him?  Like we usually have this image of Herod being a little bit crazy, but also being kind of a loner.  A King Lear figure, if you will.  So what’s with the “all Jerusalem with him” talk?

Well, sometimes for fun at this time of year, I skim through the writings of the first-century Jewish historian, Flavius Josephus.  (And the phrase you’re all looking for right now is, “church nerd.”)

And reading through Josephus’ history, you get a real sense that Jerusalem was in constant turmoil at the time Jesus was born.  The Romans would do something provocative, and the Jews would rise up with violence.  Then the Romans would retaliate and crucify hundreds of Jews, or chop off their heads.  And then the Romans would go and put up a statue of Caesar in the Temple or something, and it would all start again.  For decades this powder keg kept smoldering, and everyone was always on edge, fearing that something big might happen.

And in that setting, in that incredibly tense time, along come these random visitors from the east, asking King Herod, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews?”  That is precisely NOT the kind of question anyone wanted Herod to hear in Jerusalem at that time.  So, to me, it really does make sense that Herod was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him.  Of course Herod was frightened for different reasons than everyone else.  He was a man obsessed with power—to the point of having his own family killed—so his main concern was any challenge to his kingship.  As far as “all Jerusalem” was concerned, they just didn’t want any more trouble.  They’d seen quite enough already.

So that’s the setting.  Meanwhile, as I have been telling you, Matthew wrote his gospel for a mostly Jewish audience, while Mark wrote for the Romans, and Luke wrote for the Gentiles—broadly speaking.  And that’s why almost the entire first chapter of Matthew is given over to the Genealogy, showing that Joseph is descended from the line of David.  But if you start reading from the first verse of Matthew, you get that genealogy, and then the narrator explains that Jospeh had a dream, and then Jesus is born, and they name him Jesus.  Up until that point, no one has said a word.  It’s all history, and explanation, and narration.

But then, finally, a human being speaks, and that first person to say anything asks, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews?”  Those are the first words spoken in Matthew.  Not spoken by Herod, or Mary, or Joseph, but by these outsiders, who have come from the east.  A gospel book, written for Jews, where the opening line is delivered by anonymous astrologers who have come from somewhere in the east.  People from a foreign land and a foreign faith are looking for Jesus, and they are the first to utter a word in Matthew.  I don’t know what it means exactly, but it sure seems notable, doesn’t it?

Now, as I’ve told you before, we don’t really know anything about these visitors.  Since they offer three gifts, at some point we decided there were three of them.  And because of certain paintings and Christmas Carols, they’ve been upgraded to kings.  And some Church writers have even given them names: Balthazar, Caspar, and Melchior.  But we don’t know any of that from the actual Bible.  In the original text, they are called Magi, which is where we get our words magic, and magician.  It’s possible they were actually Zoroastrian priests, from Persia.  But no matter who they were, or where they’re from, we know they were into astrology, because that’s how they know Jesus has been born: by looking at the stars.

I think it is also significant that they were outsiders, because of the stuff I mentioned earlier.  Anyone living in Jerusalem would know that the one person you don’t go to and ask “Where is the new king?” would be the current, crazy, murderous King Herod!  They come in innocence, and in ignorance of the local turmoil.  They just want to pay homage to the new king, and are completely oblivious to the powder keg they’re walking into.  So, they come to Herod, of all people, completely innocent and naive.

But Herod is anything but innocent and naive.  As we heard, he calls together all his experts, the chief priests and the scribes, and asks where the child is to be born.  Then, he secretly calls for the Magi, and asks them when the child is to be born.  So, like any good deceptive ruler holding onto power, Herod is the only one with both pieces of information, right?  He knows when and he knows where, but nobody else does.  Except that he tells the innocent and naive Magi to go to Bethlehem, so now they also know.  And he sends the Magi away, out to find the baby.

And they see that the star comes to rest over the place where the child was born.  Which leads me to the main thing I want to say this morning . . .

These Magi, wise men, kings, astrologers, whatever, they started this whole journey in a foreign land with a foreign religion.  Whatever their faith, they most certainly were not Jewish.  They were not counted among God’s chosen people.  And they followed a sign that meant something in their own religion—which you notice, means nothing to anyone else in the story.  This is a clear message—bright as a star—that God is working through this other religion.

The wise men come to Jesus through their own faith system.  I can’t put it any plainer than that.  God is using their belief in the portent of stars to lead them to Jesus.  They followed the light, and they found the Messiah.  And found him FIRST, I might add.  We don’t know what the experience did to them or what it meant to them.  There’s no record that they converted to the Jewish faith.  And it is doubtful that they did, because they went back home.  They left for their own country by another road.

And here is what I take that to mean.  However we come to Jesus, whatever path leads us to Jesus, whatever faith leads us to God, we go back home by another road.  We are changed.  No matter where we come from or how we got here, when we find ourselves kneeling down before Jesus and offering the gifts we have, we go home by another road.  God is not beneath using astrology, or mythology—maybe even scientology!—to bring people to Jesus.  God is always luring everyone to the manger in Bethlehem, whatever it takes.  Everyone.

Sometimes it’s angels and all the host of heaven appearing to shepherds in a field.  And sometimes it’s an obscure astrological event that only magicians understand.  And sometimes it’s a wedding or concert held in a church sanctuary at the corner of Oak and Third Street in downtown Massillon.  But God is always calling.  Everybody.

Perhaps you’ve seen that bumper sticker that says, “Wise men still seek him.”  And I think it’s true, as do wise women, and wise children.  But I would add, so do kings, and magicians, and Zoroastrians, and astrologers, and everyone who seeks the truth.  And we have this story from Matthew to remind us that anyone who honestly searches after God, will make their way to Jesus.  If they look for him, they will find him. 

And, like us, they will return to their own country . . . but by another road.  Because when we encounter this baby, this God in the flesh, the savior of the world, we are changed.  We are changed, and everything is different, no matter how we got here.  Everyone is welcome; no exceptions.  

Amen.  And Merry Christmas!

YEAR A 2026 holy name

Holy Name, 2026
Numbers 6:22-27
Psalm 8
Philippians 2:5-11
Luke 2:15-21

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

And here it is:  A new year.  Every year, at midnight on January 1st, the world celebrates New Year’s Day.  On that same day every year, the Church celebrates the Feast of the Holy Name, Jesus.  As we heard on the Sundays leading up to Christmas, the name Jesus literally means, “God saves.”  So we lift up the name of Jesus on this day, not because the word itself is special, but because it is a constant reminder of the promise: God saves.  “Jesus” means, God saves.  That’s why we call it the “holy name,” and that’s why we have this feast day.

But as I do every year on this day, I want to talk about a different name: the name Janus.  Not Janice, like your mom’s sister.  But Janus, J-A-N-U-S.  Janus was the Roman god of beginnings and endings, gates, transitions, time, doorways, and passages.  Our month of January gets its name from Janus, and you can see why.  When the odometer of the calendar rolls over, it’s a beginning, and an ending, and a doorway, and a transition, and a gate, and so on.

The god Janus is always depicted as having two heads: one facing forward, and one facing backward.  Seeing the future, and looking at the past.  And how fitting this is for the way we view the start of the new year.  We look back at the past year, and we also give some thought to how things will be in the new year.  And, every year—especially this year—we can’t help but look back in judgement and regret, making resolutions about how things will be better, how we will be better.  And that’s why so many people feel dispirited at the turn of the calendar: because when we look backwards, we can be disappointed in ourselves and others.  And thanks to the Romans, we have Janus, who is always looking backward, always judging, always disappointed.  Just the kind of god human beings would make up, when you think about it.

But then we have Jesus, who is always looking forward.  When we confess our sins together, we hear in the Absolution that God forgives all our sins through our Lord, Jesus Christ.  ALL our sins.  But we still see them, don’t we?  We still lie awake at night with regrets over something we said to someone in third grade, or whatever.  We can see all our mistakes and failures and disappointments clear as day, because—just like Janus—we are always looking backward.

And that’s because—even in a positive way—we always look backwards to define ourselves and others.  We explain our identities by looking at the past.  Here’s my degree; here’s where I served in the military; here’s my Eagle Scout badge; here’s how many kids I have.  Obituaries and resume’s are by definition an accounting of the past.  They look backward.  We naturally look to the past to tell who someone is now.  We want to know, “How did you get here?”

But God always looks forward, never backward.  And that is why the promises we make in church are always forward, never backward.  The priest asks a couple about to be married, will you love, comfort honor and keep each other?  Before a person is Baptized, the priest asks will you seek and serve Christ in all persons?  And the candidate says, I will, with God’s help.  The Church always asks “will you,” never “have you,” and always gives you the out: “With God’s help.”  It doesn’t matter how you got here.  It matters that you are here.  Again, God always looks forward, not backward.

Because when God looks backward, God sees . . . nothing: all your sins have been erased.  They’re just  . . . not there.  When God looks back there is nothing but Jesus: God saves.  Your sins, your mistakes, your regrets, those are no longer known to God.  They are only known to you.  God’s hindsight sees nothing but goodness and forgiveness and Jesus.  Because God saves.

May God give us all the grace to see our lives as God sees them, repenting of our past, turning around, and always looking forward.  Because of the Holy Name of Jesus: God saves.

Amen.

YEAR A 2025 christmas 1

Christmas 1, 2025
Isaiah 61:10-62:3
Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7
John 1:1-18
Psalm 147

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Merry Christmas!  I hope you’re enjoying those four calling birds today.  In these 12 days of Christmas, we celebrate the birth of The Word made flesh, Jesus our Lord.  As we heard from John, the Word has been here from before the beginning of creation.  “All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.”  All things.  And in case it isn’t obvious, “all things” includes you!  The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit work together in creating everything that is.  Including you and me.

So, the Word has always been here.  But the Word made flesh is what’s new and different.  Jesus is the spoken Word of God in human form.  We often call the Bible the word of God.  But the Bible is the written word of God, developed over the ages.  The Bible testifies to the spoken Word of God, but it was not here at the beginning of creation.  The Bible is not the same as the spoken Word.  Jesus is the spoken Word.  And you’ll remember that all of creation was spoken into existence.  The spoken Word has always been here, from before the very beginning.  That Word is not going anywhere, and that Word is never far from you.  That same spoken Word is the light that we heard about in John.  In the beginning was the Word.  Before there was anything.

Which brings us to the light, shining in the darkness.  I believe that the times when we feel farthest from God might just be the very times we are the closest to God. Because in tragedy and pain, all the frivolous distracting diversions of life are taken away. Because the light shines in the darkness. When everything is bright and cheery and 60 degrees on a winter day, we might not notice a candle flickering in a corner.  But when times are darkest, when we are searching, when we need hope, that is when we notice a little candle, because the light shines in the darkness.  And the darkness does not overcome it.  Does the darkness try to overcome the light?  Well, just take a look around you.  The darkness is always trying.  Always trying.

And we have a vivid example of that in the way the Church year is laid out.  In the days right after Christmas, the Church observes three Holy days, 
Dec. 26, 27, and 28.  These three Major Feasts honor St. Stephen, St. John, and the Holy Innocents.  St. John is credited with giving us the Gospel of John, from which we heard the opening verses a few minutes ago.  But the other two feasts are very different.  St. Stephen was the first Christian martyr.  He was stoned to death, while Saul (who later became St. Paul) stood there dutifully holding the robes of the ones who killed Stephen.

And the feast of Holy Innocents is in remembrance of Matthew’s account of what happened after the Magi tricked Herod by not returning.  Then Herod in his rage had his soldiers go and kill every male child under the age of two.  Every year, on December 28th, the Church honors those innocent victims of Herod’s cruel injustice.  These Holy Innocents get their day. But hardly anyone actually observes it because, you know, happy holidays and all that.

But listen to the Collect for their feast day:  We remember today, O God, the slaughter of the holy innocents of Bethlehem by King Herod. Receive, we pray, into the arms of your mercy all innocent victims; and by your great might frustrate the designs of evil tyrants and establish your rule of justice, love, and peace.

When justice, love, and peace are afoot, there’s a reaction!  The Holy Innocents’ day is placed right after Christmas, which reminds us of this connection . . . while we’re busy celebrating.  This Christmas season we rejoice at the light shining in the darkness, yes.  But the days set aside for St. Stephen and for the Holy Innocents stand as stark reminders that there is still darkness.  We welcome the light, we welcome the salvation, but there is still darkness.

It’s tempting to say, well, those other children had to die so that Jesus could live—so that the salvation of all could be accomplished.  I mean, that’s how we humans operate, right?  We’re willing to sacrifice a few people for the benefit of the larger society.  

But that transactional way of thinking is not how God works. As I said on Christmas Eve, God values every person.  Every.  Created.  Person.  Trading one person for many is a human concept, yes, but it is not a Godly concept.  We would sacrifice one person to save 99.  But Jesus leaves the 99 to find the one lost sheep.  So in fact, God works the other way around.  Jesus stands our thinking on its head.  And for that reason, we dare not think of the slaughter of Holy Innocents as just needing to break a few eggs.

But back to the text we just heard.  Note that the light shines in darkness. This is not the same as saying there is darkness or there is light.  The presence of salvation does not remove evil.  Our redemption shines in the midst of the evil.  It does not remove it or prevent it.  Knowing how the story ends does not remove the suffering on the way.  But now, there is hope within the suffering, there is redemption within the evil, and there is light within the darkness. 

In this Christmas season, we would like for everything to be okay, because now we have Jesus. But we know that’s not how life works.  People woke up on December 26th—the feast of St. Stephen—still divorced, still grieving, still unemployed, still shunned and rejected by family and friends, still painfully aware of whatever darkness might surround you today.  Christmas does not wipe away the darkness.  In fact, you could say it illuminates it.  Because the light shines within the darkness.

Christmas reminds us that a light shines in the darkness.  Christmas lights a candle in the darkness.  At the darkest time of the year, we surround ourselves with lights, and candles, and singing, and decorations, as signs of hope.  We always have hope because of Jesus.  Because we know how the story ends.

Back in the late 1300’s, Julian of Norwich wrote her “Revelations of Divine Love,” which—as I like to point out—is the earliest surviving manuscript written by a woman in English.  Listen to what she says . . .
In my folly, before this time I often wondered why, by the great foreseeing wisdom of God, the onset of sin was not prevented: for then, I thought, all should have been well. . . . But Jesus . . . answered with these words and said: “It was necessary that there should be sin; but all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”  These words were said most tenderly, showing no manner of blame to me nor to any who shall be saved.

As we heard today from John—whose feast day sits right between St. Stephen the first martyr and the Holy Innocents—the Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.  May God give us all the grace to always look for the light.  Because the light is there.  The light is always there.  And the darkness will never overcome it.

Amen.

YEAR A 2025 christmas eve

Christmas Eve, 2025
Isaiah 9:2-7
Titus 2:11-14
Luke 2:1-20
Psalm 96

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

The “true meaning of Christmas.”  Have you heard that phrase before?  Of course you have.  I mean that question explains the existence of the Hallmark Channel, right?  What is the true meaning of Christmas?  It’s probably going to involve a high-functioning lawyer who meets a local handyman at a bed and breakfast in Vermont, if I’m not mistaken.

Sometimes the supposed true meaning of Christmas is pretty predictable.  The down and out get a break.  The poor family gets to celebrate.  The greedy boss get his comeuppance.  The losers win.  Good beats evil.  And so on and so on.  We all have some intuitive sense that Christmas has a true meaning, and we know it when we see it.

So why is that?  And why only Christmas?  Why does no one ask about the “true meaning” of Easter?  Or Pentecost?  Why doesn’t Hallmark have a series of movies dedicated to couples finding the Trinity Sunday spirit in the Berkshires together?  It seems to be accepted common knowledge that Christmas has a true meaning and a particular spirit, and it is universally recognized around the world.  Even by people who have never set foot inside a church.

If I asked you to tell me the true meaning of Christmas, chances are that you would mention words like gathering, helping, giving, family, togetherness, all of which lead us to one common theme: community.  Community.

And community reminds me of cats.  (Just stick with me for a minute here.)  Last February, our beloved cat Pippin died on a Sunday afternoon.  We took turns holding her until she breathed her last.  Within a week, both our kids went into “you need a new cat mode,” sending us pictures of cats from the APL website.  But we wanted to take our time before getting a new companion.  Toward the end of October, our friend Jay sent us pictures of a local stray named Henry, a little big-headed guy one of his neighbors trapped and took to the place that neuters such cats, and turns one of their triangle ears into a trapezoid, and releases them back onto the streets.  We went to meet Henry the cat on Halloween in Jay’s backyard, and now Henry is our chonky big-headed companion in our home.

People often refer to such cats as strays, or ferrel cats, or street cats.  But when I looked at the paperwork from the vet, they refer to them as “community cats.”  Not because of where they live, but because of how they live.  Henry was a community cat, because the community kept him alive, which led me to all sort of realizations.  Community cats don’t live by their street-smart stealth, but by the kindness of the community.  They don't belong to any one family.  But they survive because one person leaves fresh water for them, and another sets out food,  and another cracks their garage door in the winter.  They don't usually live to be 15, but they are loved while they do live.   They are not ferrel or stray or alone. They are community cats. They belong to everyone, because everyone cares for them.

And there are people living around us who are sort of like community cats.  Nearly every day, someone rings the bell at church looking for help.  Some have shelter; some do not.  Some have food; some do not.  They are not strays.  Or aliens.  Or lazy.  Or subhuman.  But they are alive because the community helps them.  And they die if the community doesn't.  They are not “the homeless.”  They are community people.  Like community cats.  If we can do it for cats, we can do it for people.  Cats may or may not be made in God's image, but people definitely are.  We know it from the very first book of the Bible.  Every single person is made in the image of God.  You would expect this point to end with some specific plea.  But it ends with just asking you to care.

And so, back to Christmas.  Our cards and paintings and images of the birth of Jesus tend to show an intimate nuclear family having quiet night. A silent night, if you will. But Jesus is more like a community cat.  Jesus only survived because of the community.  Joseph took Mary as his wife because the Angel told him not to be afraid. The Innkeeper provided shelter and a place to give birth away from the streets.  The Shepherds heard a message from the whole host of angels and then raced to the scene to carry the news of great joy for all the people.  The Wise men traveled great distances to offer gifts of support and to warn of the danger from Herod.  I mean, just look at how many people were involved, each doing their own part.  Sharing their time, talent, and treasure for Jesus, you could say.

When it comes right down to it, Jesus is a community baby. It took a whole community to make sure he was born safely.  It took a whole community to announce his birth.  It took a whole community to make sure he even survived.  Jesus is a community baby, and he lives to bring community.  Jesus draws us into community.  On this very night in fact.  A few hours ago this building was silent and empty, and just look at it now!  It worked!

If you’re searching for the true meaning of Christmas, that’s it: community.  And it was baked in from the start with the birth of Jesus, this community baby.  Chances are, all your favorite Christmas movies are about community, one way or another.  A town rallying around a tree and singing “Dahoo Dores.”  Neighbors racing to George Bailey’s house with donations to bail out the savings and loan.  Linus helping Charlie Brown see that Christmas is about love and togetherness, not soul-crushing capitalism.  They’re all about community.

We were not built to live life on our own.  And—spoiler alert—we can’t do it on our own.  It takes a neighborhood to care for a community cat.  And it takes a community to care for our neighbors, and especially those in need.  And—turns out—it takes a community for Jesus to be born.  And in the birth of Jesus, God is telling us that we are not alone.  We never were, and we never will be.

The true meaning of Christmas is found in community.  The Christmas spirit is found in community.  Neighbors helping neighbors.  People joining together to care for those who are in need.  Even cats.  It took a community to make sure Jesus lived.  And Jesus lives to bring community, to draw us into community, because that’s where the magic happens.  

May the birth of this holy child remind us every day to look for how God is calling us to care.  Because it is in caring that we truly find community, and community brings life.  Merry Christmas!

Amen

YEAR A 2025 advent 4

Advent 4, 2025
Isaiah 7:10-16
Romans 1:1-7
Matthew 1:18-25
Psalm 80:1-7, 16-18

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

So this gospel text we just heard, I’m sure you know it very well by now.  The angel comes to Joseph in a dream and tells him not to be afraid to take Mary as his wife, even though she is pregnant.  It’s kind of key to the story, right?  Or at least key to how Matthew tells the story.  And speaking of how Matthew tells the story, there are couple things we need to revisit in order to understand this story correctly.

Each gospel writer tailored their writing to a specific audience, based on their own time and place.  Broadly speaking, Mark wrote for the Romans (with his immediately this and immediately that); Luke wrote for the Gentiles (with his everybody is included, especially the ones who don’t feel included); and Matthew wrote for the Jews (always connecting Jesus to being the Messiah they were expecting).  And for this reason, Matthew is constantly emphasizing connections to the Hebrew scriptures, what we call the “Old Testament.”  In Matthew, we are likely to find phrases like, “This happened in order to fulfill the scriptures.”  So for Matthew it’s important to make these connections to the Jewish faith, so his audience might come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah.

That’s why in the first chapter of Matthew, we get the “The Genealogy.”  The first 17 verses of Matthew’s gospel never come up in the readings in church (thankfully), because it’s just a long list of names to you and me.  However, that long list of names is important to Matthew’s Jewish audience.  Because it ties Joseph all the way back to the beginning of the line of David, and further back to Abraham.  

On the other hand, this is an odd thing for Matthew to do.  Because although it proves that Joseph is descended from Abraham, Joseph is not the father of Jesus, as we just heard.  I have never understood this, and I’ve never seen a good explanation for it, so I probably shouldn’t have brought it up.  But I did.

But back to the reading we heard.  Mary is great with child, and “Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly.”  That doesn’t seem too crazy to you and me, right?  It’s like, Joseph is a decent guy, and he’s just going to kind of do right by Mary, even though he is probably personally devastated to find his fiancé is pregnant.  Except here’s the thing . . .

A righteous man would not dismiss her quietly.  A truly righteous man would report Mary to the authorities, and she would then be publicly humiliated and stoned to death.  A righteous man does not ignore the religious codes in order to save a sinner, even a sinner whom he loves.  A righteous man follows the rules, even if that means a horrible outcome.  That’s what it means to be righteous.

Moses wrote down the rules for the children of Abraham to follow.  It is clear in the Torah exactly what is supposed to happen to a woman who has sexual relations before marriage.  And a righteous man would follow those rules.

So why do we hear that because Joseph was a righteous man, he is going to violate the religious laws?  Well, I think the answer is one that we have run into before.  God loves people more than rules.  Or, in the words of Jesus, the Sabbath was made for man, not the other way around.  Or to put it another way, because of Jesus, the very definition of righteousness has been fulfilled.  Compassion and sympathy are what is righteous.  No longer is strict adherence to the Law more important than saving human beings.  Joseph, in his righteousness, saves Mary from the righteous Law.  Crazy as it sounds: A righteous man saves her from righteousness.  Everything has changed, because Jesus has come to fulfill the law, not to replace the law.

And the angel tells Joseph not to be afraid to take Mary as his wife.  Because she will bear a son, and you will name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.  She will, you will, he will.  Isn’t that interesting?  In one sentence, she will, you will, he will.  She will bear a son, and you will name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.  Mary will give birth.  And Joseph will name him Jesus, because the name Jesus means “God saves,” and that’s what Jesus does: save.  She will, you will, he will.

And here’s where maybe there actually is a connection to that Genealogy I brought up earlier.  Joseph is descended from the House of David—from Abraham’s line.  In giving this child the name Jesus, Joseph is making the connection for us.  Joseph, a descendant of David, a child of Abraham, is announcing to the world that God saves, because of Mary’s son.  

But there’s another name we heard this morning as well.  We heard it in Isaiah’s prophecy to Ahaz, in the first reading.  Isaiah says, “Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel.”  And then in the Gospel reading, Matthew writes,  

All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,” which means, “God is with us.” 
To fulfill what had been spoken.  Which is a very Matthew thing to say, as I mentioned earlier.

So, today we hear that Jesus means, “God saves.”  And Emmanuel means, “God is with us.”  God is with us, and God saves, both promises coming together in the birth of this Messiah.  God is with us, and God saves. 

And here’s what I find truly important about Joseph’s situation here.  It is messy and confusing and by no means what we’d call “neat and tidy.”  And not coincidentally, the birth of a baby is also not neat and tidy.  And when it comes right down to it, life itself is not neat and tidy.  In our day to day lives, we never know what is coming, and when it arrives, it is rarely what we expected.

But notice how God meets Joseph where he is, in the midst of the not-neat-and-tidiness of his life.  The angel brings a message from God that there is another way.  That he need not be afraid to do what his heart tells him to do: to let Jesus be born into our messy world.  The story of Joseph and the angel and Mary and the baby are reminders to us, that God has not given up on this world.  God meets us in the not-neat-and-tidiness of our lives, in the messiness of this world, and reminds us that we are not alone.  God is with us, and Jesus saves.  

And this morning, as you stretch out your hands to receive the bread and wine, the body of Christ and the cup of salvation, may you hear that message again:  You are not alone, and God is with us, and Jesus saves.

Amen.

YEAR A 2025 advent 3

Advent 3, 2025
Isaiah 35:1-10
James 5:7-10
Matthew 11:2-11
Psalm 146:4-9

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Jesus asked the crowd, “What did you go out into the wilderness to look at?”  That question cuts to the heart of the readings today.  Essentially, what were you expecting?  It fits perfectly with our journey through this Advent season.  We’re all waiting; but what are we waiting for?  Put another way, depending on our expectations, we might end up mightily disappointed.  But we’ll get to that.

The first reading, from the prophet Isaiah is just beautiful.  I love this reading so much!  Even though it’s from a completely different part of Isaiah, it fits perfectly with last week’s reading, where the lion and the lamb will lie down together and a little child shall lead them.  And in this section today, we hear all about the setting that will one day be.  The desert shall rejoice and blossom.  Water in the wilderness, burning sands will become pools.  A hostile environment shall become lush with greenery and growth.  

And the best part is right toward the beginning.  Like the crocus, the desert shall blossom abundantly and rejoice with joy and singing.  That phrase, “like the crocus” really speaks to me, because where we live now, every spring those little guys just pop up all over our yard.  At first it’s just a few, and we treat them like little sacred beings.  Be careful not to step on those scarce fragile beautiful signs of springtime and renewal.  And then there’s a few more, and a few more.  And then one day, we come outside and they are everywhere!  Rejoicing and laughing and singing.  To say that the desert shall be like the crocus, well, finally there’s a metaphor that I get!

And speaking of metaphors I finally get, another line I love in this Isaiah reading is this:  A highway shall be there, and it shall be called the Holy Way . . . and no traveler, not even fools, shall go astray.  Not even fools can miss it.  Not even fools can get lost.  As my wife well knows, after all those years of touring, I can easily find my way around Omaha, and Des Moines, and a hundred other random cities in America without a map.  But ask me how to get from our house to somewhere five miles away, and I’m hopeless.  But one day, there shall be a highway where no traveler, not even fools, can go astray.  Excellent news for me!

But back to flowers.  The reading we heard from James offers up this analogy about expectations:  "The farmer waits for the precious crop from the earth, being patient with it until it receives the early and the late rains.”  Though not many of us are planting actual crops around here, in our church there are many gardeners (if it were not so I would have told you).  And gardeners do the same thing: you put the seeds in the ground, and then you wait with patience for their arrival.  Sure, it’d be great to have flowers popping up out of the ground during the bleak midwinter, but that’s not how flowers work.  You plant the seeds and bulbs, and then you wait.  You let them do the thing that makes them into what they are meant to be.  And, hopefully, what you get is exactly what you were expecting.  You wait with expectation.

And Jesus asked the crowd, “What did you go out into the wilderness to look at?”  What were you expecting?  And his follow up questions tell you what they were expecting.  A frail reed.  Someone dressed in soft robes.  A prophet.  That’s what they were expecting.  And what did they get?  Well, you remember, we heard it last week.  A socialist who wears camel fur, eats grasshoppers, and yells at respectable people.  Not what they were expecting, to say the least.

But before that part, John the Baptist sends his disciples to talk to Jesus, to ask Jesus a straight-up question:  Are you the one we are expecting, or are we to wait for another?  It’s a bold question, but quite simple.  Either Jesus is the One they’ve been waiting for, or they will be waiting for another.  Simple as that.  Jesus should tell John’s disciples, yes or no.  A simple up-or-down vote, as the politicians like to say.  I mean, it really is a yes or no question.  Just answer the question Jesus; it’s just one question.

But Jesus gives them a completely different kind of answer.  He says, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: 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.”  That’s his answer to their yes or no question.  So why does he say all that?  

Well, remember what Isaiah says in the first reading today?  When the Day of the Lord comes, “then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.”  Those are the clues that Jesus is the Messiah.  And those are the same things Jesus tells them to tell John. 

John was expecting a vengeful warrior on horseback who would overthrow the Romans while kicking things and taking names.  John was tough.  John expected the Messiah to be tough.  John was expecting the arrival of the ultimate fighting machine.  John is not expecting the arrival of  . . . a baby.

But Mary is.  Mary is expecting.  And—in fact—there’s probably a whole lot of stress in your life right now because Mary is expecting.  And we’re expecting a baby too.  Kind of.  I mean, we all know that Christmas is about a baby being born.  But it’s very easy to let that thought go on December 26th and start wondering, like John did, when we’re going to get the vengeful warrior on horseback who will overthrow the the forces of evil while kicking things and taking names.  

We look around and we don’t see God crushing our enemies underfoot (whatever that might mean), and we don’t see God fixing all the problems in our lives (whatever they might be).  Something is not living up to our expectations here.

We understand that a baby is coming in a couple weeks, sure, sure.  But I suspect that around mid-January or so, we’re all going to be a bit like John the Baptist.  We’ll look out from inside the contained space of our lives, and we’ll want to send our friends to ask Jesus that question:  Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?  Because right now, we’re not seeing a whole lot of kicking things and taking names on our behalf.  Of course, we don’t dare say that.  Aloud.  No, we just kind of press on, secretly waiting for the God who is going to clear the threshing floor and trample our problems underfoot.  But deep down inside, at some point or another, we’re each going to be asking: Is this the Savior who is to come, or should I wait for another?  What are we expecting to see?

And what does Jesus say to us?  Pray harder?  Be stronger?  Straighten up and fly right?  No.  Jesus sends the messengers back to us to proclaim the gospel:  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 if that is true . . . if that is true, then there is hope for me and you.

Because if Jesus can heal the sick and cure the lame, then Jesus can heal us too.  If Jesus can rise from the dead, then Jesus can raise you from your grave as well.  We may not be literally blind, or lame, or deaf, but we have something like those things going on in our lives.  Something that needs the healing touch of Jesus.

We have our expectations.  But we never really know what to expect.  We have an idea of how we want God to show up.  Maybe in a big red suit, rewarding the good people, and punishing the bad ones.  That’s what we expect, but that’s not what we get . . . thank God.  Because God does not save you because you are good.  And God will never reject you because you are bad.  In all cases, God saves because of Jesus, whether the things you do are naughty or nice.  

And speaking of expectations . . . In a little while, you will come up to this altar, expecting to get some bread and wine.  And you’ll get those, when you hold out your hands.  But you’ll also get much more than that.  Because God is always giving us more than we expect.  More than we can think to ask.  God is always giving life, and forgiveness, and a chance to start again.  No matter what you’ve done or where you’ve been.  Jesus is the one who is to come.  You do not need to wait for another.

Go and tell the world what you hear and see: 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.  No matter what we might have been expecting, Jesus is coming to save us.

Amen.