Love Came Down -- Christmas Eve, 2014

You can hear the entire service by clicking this link: https://soundcloud.com/emsworthup/december-24-2014-7-02-45-pm

Christmas Eve 2014

Readings and Scripture

          

The Coming of God (Ann Weems)

Our God is the One who comes to us

in a burning bush

in an angel's song,

in a newborn child.

Our God is the One who cannot be found

locked in the Church,

not even in the sanctuary.

Our God will be where God will be

with no constraints,

no predictability.

Our God lives where our God lives,

and destruction has no power

and even death cannot stop

the living.

Our God will be born where God will be born,

but there is no place to look

for the One who comes to us.

When God is ready

God will come

even to a godforsaken place

like a stable in Bethlehem.

Watch...

for you know not when

God comes.

Watch, that you might be found

whenever

wherever

God comes.

Isaiah 9:2-7

The people who walked in darkness
have seen a great light;
those who lived in a land of deep darkness—
on them light has shined. 
You have multiplied the nation,
you have increased its joy;
 they rejoice before you
as with joy at the harvest,
as people exult when dividing plunder. 
⁴ For the yoke of their burden,
and the bar across their shoulders,
the rod of their oppressor,
you have broken as on the day of Midian. 
For all the boots of the tramping warriors
and all the garments rolled in blood
shall be burned as fuel for the fire. 
⁶ For a child has been born for us,
a son given to us;
authority rests upon his shoulders;
and he is named
Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His authority shall grow continually,
and there shall be endless peace
for the throne of David and his kingdom.
He will establish and uphold it
with justice and with righteousness
from this time onwards and for evermore.
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.

Isaiah 11:1-9                       

A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots. The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord. He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear; but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth; he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked. Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist, and faithfulness the belt around his loins. The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them. The cow and the bear shall graze, their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den. They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.

Love Alone (Gian Carlo Menotti)           

The Child we seek

doesn’t need our gold.

On love, on love alone

he will build his kingdom.

His pierced hand will hold no scepter,

his haloed head will wear no crown;

his might will not be built on your toil.

Swifter than lightening

he will soon walk among us.

He will bring us new life

and receive our death,

and the keys to his city

belong to the poor.

                                            

Luke 1:26-38                       

  In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, ‘Greetings, favoured one! The Lord is with you.’^* But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, ‘Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favour with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob for ever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.’ Mary said to the angel, ‘How can this be, since I am a virgin?’^* The angel said to her, ‘The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born^* will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.’ Then Mary said, ‘Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.’ Then the angel departed from her.

                                                       

Luke 2:1-14                       

In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. ²This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. ³All went to their own towns to be registered. ⁴Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. ⁵He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. ⁶While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. ⁷And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

⁸In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. ⁹Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. ¹⁰But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: ¹¹to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. ¹²This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” ¹³And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, ¹⁴“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”

REFLECTION                                   

(Adapted from Barbara Brown Taylor’s, “God’s Daring Plan”)

Once upon a time, before there were clocks or calendars or Christmas trees, God was all there was.  And one day, God decided to make a world.  Maybe God was bored, or maybe God was lonely, or maybe God just liked to make things and thought it was time to try something new.   Something big.  Something really big.

For whatever reason, God made a world.  And when the world was finished, God stood back and took a look.  God was happy with the world, but it occurred to God that something was missing.  God wasn’t sure what was missing at first, but soon God knew what was needed.

Everything God had made was interesting and beautiful, but there was nothing in the world that looked like God.  So, God decided to make a man and woman and both of them would be reflections of God, and both could keep God and one another company.

God made them out of flesh and blood, a wonderful medium and warm to the touch.  Since God was not made out of anything at all, but was pure mind and spirit, God was fascinated by the two creatures.  God knew how fragile they were, but their very breakability made them more touching to God, somehow.

Soon, God found himself falling in love with the humans.  In fact, God liked being with human beings better than any of the other creatures, and God especially liked walking with them in the garden in the cool of the evening.

Then the human beings broke God’s heart.  The humans did the one thing God told them not to do.  And after doing that one thing, the man and the woman made things worse by hiding from God.  God searched for them until way past dark, calling their names over and over again.

After that, things between God and the humans were very different. God still love the human creatures best of all, but the attraction was not mutual.

In fact, it wasn’t long before most human beings forgot all about God.  All of them were very busy learning how to make things, grow things, buy things, sell things, and the more that human beings learned to do for themselves, the less they depended on God.

People began to call themselves “self-made” men and women as if that were a good thing.  They forgot about God’s love and care for them.  They forgot to thank God for all the good things that happened to them.  But when something went wrong, they often blamed God.  Mostly, they just ignored God.

Night after night, God threw pebbles at their windows, inviting them to go for a walk and maybe have a talk, but the men and women said they were too busy. Sorry.

God could have put a stop to it.  When God saw things like wars and famines and the terrible things happening to the people God created, God thought maybe God should put a stop to it.  But there was a problem with that.  God had made the human beings free.  God had given them their freedom just like their hearts and brains, and even God could not take back human freedom without killing the humans themselves.   It almost killed God to watch what they were doing to one another, how much they hurt each other, how cruelly they treated one another.

God would yell to them, “Please stop what you’re doing before you destroy yourselves!” but all the people could hear was thunder.  God would shout, “I love you as much now as the day I made you,” but all the people could hear was a loon calling across the water.  God invaded people’s dreams, and if that did not work God woke them up in the middle of the night with whispering.  No matter what God tried, God came up against the barriers of flesh and blood and human freedom.

Babies were the exception to this sad state of affairs.  While their parents seemed to have a hard time hearing God’s messages, babies had no trouble at all.  Babies spent a lot of time laughing at God’s jokes or crying with God when God cried.  The babies’ parents had no idea what was going on.  “Colic,” the grownups would say, or “Isn’t she cute?  She’s laughing at the dust mites in the sunlight.”  But, the baby was really laughing because God has just told her it was cleaning day in heaven and what the baby saw were fallen stars the angels were shaking from their feather dusters.

Here’s another thing about babies. Babies did not go to war.  Babies never made hate speeches or littered or refused to play with each other because they belonged to different political parties or different religions. While no one asked babies their opinions about anything, almost everyone seemed to love babies, and that gave God an idea.

Why couldn’t God become one of these delightful creatures?  Why couldn’t God become a baby?

God tried the idea out on his angels.  The angels told God how much they would worry about God if God decided to become a baby. There was no telling what people would do to God, the angels said.  Couldn’t God at least become a magical baby with special powers so God would be safe? Like the power to become invisible or hurl bolts of lightening? 

God thanked the angels for their concern but said, no, God thought a regular baby would do.  How else could God gain the trust of God’s creatures?  How else could God persuade them that God knew their lives inside and out unless God lived like one of them?  That was part of what God wanted humans to know: that God was willing to risk everything to get close to them, in hopes that they might love God again. 

It was a daring plan, but once the angels saw that God was dead set on it, they broke into applause – the steady kind of clapping that goes on and on when you have witnessed something you know you will never see again.

Benediction:

While the angels were still clapping, God turned around and left them,  shedding God’s robes as he went.  The angels watched as God’s midnight blue cape fell to the floor, so that all the stars collapsed on it in a heap.  Then a strange thing happened.  Where God’s robes had fallen, the floor melted and opened up to reveal a scrubby brown pasture speckled with sheep.  In the middle of the pasture, there was a bunch of shepherds sitting around a campfire drinking wine out of a skin. 

It was hard to say who was more surprised, the shepherds or the angels.  One of the angels finally stepped up to the edge of the hole.  Looking down at the shepherds who were all scared out of their wits, the angel said in as gentle a voice as she could muster, “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.”

And away up the hill, from the direction of town, came the sound of a newborn baby’s cry.

            

Hush (Lucinda Hynett)

Sssh.

Can you hear it?

An expectant silence,

a hushed anticipation,

as if the very galaxy

is holding its breath.

There are some truths

even the stars know,

like darkness,

like loneliness

and how the night

can be a living thing.

And how once, long ago,

the night waited in wonder

along with the darkness

and the loneliness,

for the sound of a baby’s cry,

for the miraculous

to come down

to the earth mundane.

John 1:1-4

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life,^* and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

 There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.^*

He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own,^* and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.

 And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.

Christmas Hallelujah (Leonard Cohen/Cloverton)

I've heard about this baby boy

Who's come to earth to bring us joy

And I just want to sing this song to you

It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth

The minor fall, the major lift

With every breath I'm singing hallelujah

Chorus:

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

A couple came to Bethlehem

Expecting child, they searched the inn

To find a place for you were coming soon

There was no room for them to stay

So in a manger filled with hay

God's only Son was born, oh hallelujah

ALL:  Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

The shepherds left their flocks by night

To see this baby wrapped in light

A host of angels led them all to You

It was just as the angels said

You'll find Him in a manger bed

Immanuel and Savior, hallelujah

ALL: Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Congregation (Singing)

I know you came to rescue me

This baby boy would grow to be

A man and one day die for me and you

My sins would drive the nails in you

That rugged cross was my cross, too

Still every breath you drew was hallelujah

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Hallelujah

(2x)

*POSTLUDE                                        

                                                

*Those that are able may stand.

With Thanks To Our:

Readers:  Keith Mihelcic, Rachel Rothenberg, Sue Schneider, Mark Shannon

Choir:  Jean Ackerman, Marti Smart, Tom Smart, Georgia Stringert, Mary Tadler, Max Fisher

Special Music: Madison Hintemeyer, Keith Mihelcic, Erin Williams, Rachel Rothenberg,

Organist and Choir Director: Cindy Ward

Custodian:  Paul Zende

Advent 4B -- December 21, 2014

Interrupted By Blessing

For audio, click here: https://soundcloud.com/emsworthup/december-21-2014-11-20-40-am                                

Luke 1:39-56                                                                                                                                               ³⁹In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, ⁴⁰where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. ⁴¹When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit ⁴²and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. ⁴³And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? ⁴⁴For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. ⁴⁵And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.” ⁴⁶And Mary said, “My soul magnifies the Lord, ⁴⁷and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, ⁴⁸for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; ⁴⁹for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. ⁵⁰His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. ⁵¹He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. ⁵²He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; ⁵³he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. ⁵⁴He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, ⁵⁵according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.” ⁵⁶And Mary remained with her about three months and then returned to her home.           

This week, I showed up at the travel clinic, stuck out both my arms and received 6 necessary immunizations in preparation for my trip to South Sudan.  Well, 7 immunizations, if you count the flu shot I’d been delaying and decided to get since I had my sleeves rolled up anyway.  The nurse at the place where I got my shots spent a lot of time telling me about all the health risks I was taking in traveling to Africa.  She gave me a book of information that may have just as well been titled, “Planning Your Trip To South Sudan.  Where You’re Probably Going to Get Really Sick and/or Die.  Have A Good Trip!” If I were a person who is easily frightened, I may have called the whole thing off there and then.  But I didn’t.

What struck me most weren’t all the possible issues involved in traveling to the developing world.  I didn’t even really mind all of those injections .  What struck me was how all of this was familiar somehow.  It reminded me of how I have felt at other times in my life.  The only way I can explain it is that it was that feeling you get when you’re heading into something brand new and you’re not quite sure what to expect and you’re not sure if it’s the smartest decision you’ve ever made.  But you feel something like an irresistible and almost holy energy pulling you forward into something entirely beyond your capacity to imagine. 

You know that feeling.  Really, you do.  It’s the feeling you had the moment before your first child was born.  Or the moment you said, “I do.”  Or even the first time you stepped onto an airplane that was going to fly over an ocean to a place you’ve never been before.   They are moments in which you step out without certainty into something that may be the best idea you ever had or the worst mistake you’ve ever made. 

But I’m not sure I’m talking about that moment in particular.  Maybe what I’m talking about the nanosecond before that the “I do” moment.   The best way I can describe it is it’s like a long slow fall through space, and I have no idea how long it will be before I land on solid ground, and all I can do is pray that I might land on my feet.  That’s how I felt this week while getting all those shots.  I felt like the falling part has begun and I’m not sure when it will end.  But I also feel the holy pull of it while I’m falling.  Which makes me suspect that God has something to do with it.

I wonder if that’s something of how Mary felt when the angel Gabriel shows up.  I wonder if Mary also felt an irresistible holy pull into the unknown when she heard the outrageous idea the angel tells her.  I wonder if it felt a little bit like falling when she pondered the call for her to give birth to the Son of God, the Lord most High.  Did she feel like she had found favor with God?  Did she really imagine herself as blessed?  Did she wonder if the angel might have the wrong girl?  Or did Mary feel like somebody whose life has just been interrupted by God in the most extreme sort of way?

We call this scene the annunciation, and I love the way a poet describes so many holy moments in which we are both gratified and horrified by what God has in store for us:

Behold the moment that is a doorway, a threshold,

upon which history itself has paused its stride,

poised to take a new unguessed direction, sensing

like someone whose eyes have seen dawn coming

on a different horizon, that this moment is God’s creation…[1]

Every year, on the fourth Sunday of Advent, history pauses for moment when we come to these texts about Mary, mother of Jesus.  This is the big day for a young girl that most Protestants don’t give much thought to beyond the pale portrait we see of her on our Christmas cards.  Mary exists in many imaginations as the pretty young girl, dressed in blue, permanently glued into the crèche and gazing adoringly into the manger containing her son. 

But I’m not sure that any faith tradition knows what is true about Mary.  Throughout Christian history, she’s been buried under so many layers of theology, piety, and politics that she’s nearly impossible to know.  Some people pray to her.  Others ignore her on principle.  Some call her a victim of divine coercion.  For some, she represents a troubling model of pious femininity – ever pure, ever virginal, ever a doting mother.  Mary can often seem too good to be true.  In truth, she’s probably one of the most complex characters in Scripture.  In other words, Mary, mother of a wholly human, wholly divine baby is pretty darn human herself.  I think that’s why she’s so troubling.[2] 

 When the angel tells Mary the outrageous and scandalous plan that God has in mind, Mary says, “I am the servant of the Lord. Let it be with me according to your word.”  We so often hear that answer given with an air of perfect confidence and serenity, as if God had only asked her for a cup of tea. 

But what I hear in Mary’s answer is a sort of breathlessness, maybe because she really does understand the full implications of the task God is asking her to take on.  She’s in that moment of feeling lifted up off her feet, not knowing where or how she will land, or how all of this will turn out.  The rest of us who are well-versed in this story know what will happen, but Mary didn’t have a clue about how this plan would work.  Can you imagine how it sounded to her? 

Difficult.  Risky.  It was a divine interruption, to be sure, but a complicated one for any human being to undertake, especially a young woman in an ancient society.

No matter how you hear the answer Mary gives to Gabriel, I think we can all agree that by the time Mary arrives at Elizabeth’s house, Mary is probably a wreck.  The distance from Mary’s town to Elizabeth’s was nearly 100 miles, so even if Mary went “with haste,” she still had plenty of time to worry during the long journey. 

But when Elizabeth looks at Mary, she doesn’t see a poor, dirty, tired, troubled, unwed teenager running away from home.  Elizabeth takes one look at Mary and says, “Blessed….Blessed…Blessed are you among women.  And blessed is the fruit of your womb.”

And then there’s Elizabeth.  Elizabeth is another complicated woman whose life has also been upended by a strange and holy intervention.   Unlike Mary, whose pregnancy came inconveniently early without Mary asking for it, Elizabeth’s pregnancy had been exceedingly delayed, despite years of prayer and long after Elizabeth had reasonably given up hope on ever being a mother.

Maybe Elizabeth is more able to see Mary’s pregnancy as the miracle it is because Elizabeth has learned something about God’s power to bless, even when any reasonable person has given up on hope.  This old woman, with the same sort prophetic intuition that the son in her womb will inherit, takes Mary into her arms and affirms what Mary was afraid to believe – that God will work in Mary’s life to make everything work out.  Mary isn’t just pregnant a baby, but has been called to be a prophet herself and bring God’s love and justice and mercy and peace into the world. 

And with that holy call tucked firmly into her servant heart, the prophet Mary begins to sing:

“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.”

Without casting any aspersions on Mary’s originality, the song she sings has echoes of a much older song, sung in the Old Testament by Hannah.  Hannah, like Elizabeth, grew old and despaired of ever having a child until God heard her prayer and blessed her with Samuel.  When her child was finally born, Hannah took him to the temple and she sang just like Mary.  Perhaps Mary had heard Hannah’s song while she was growing up, and in the moment of her joy remembered the song.  Maybe Mary remembered something in Hannah’s story that reminded her of Elizabeth’s story and her own.  Some have suggested that the singing of Hannah and Mary contain themes so universal that they crop up again and again whenever God stirs people’s hearts and they know that they have been blessed.

Mary sings.  She believes what she has seen in Elizabeth’s eyes and words.  Mary embraces the truth of how God is working in her life.  Mary sings that she has received the blessing of God.  Even she – the lowest of the low, the smallest of the small – has received a promise that she can believe in with her whole heart. 

This is a very happy scene and we could envision a smiling Elizabeth and singing Mary on a Christmas card too.  We may think that Mary is just singing about how happy and blessed she is, but… listen…what do we hear? 

Mary is singing, not only about her own blessing, but also about the blessings of other people.  She is singing about powerful and rich people losing everything, and about the poor and hungry being lifted up.  This ordinary young woman is singing about an extraordinary shift in the balance of power in the world.  “Her song is for Abraham, Issac and Jacob – and for Sarah, Rebecca, Leah and Rachel – for every son and daughter of Israel who thought God forgotten the promise to be with them forever, to love them forever, to give them fresh and endless life.”[3] The last will be first and the first will be last.  The world will be made right because of the child Mary is carrying inside. 

 

The song of Mary is the oldest Advent hymn. Dietrich Bonhoeffer calls it, “…the most passionate, the wildest, one might even say the most revolutionary Advent hymn ever sung. This is not the gentle, tender, dreamy Mary whom we sometimes see in paintings.…This song has none of the sweet, nostalgic, or even playful tones of some of our Christmas carols. It is instead a hard, strong, inexorable song about the power of God and the powerlessness of humankind.”[4]

If we wonder about the power of Mary’s song, we only need to look at the son she will raise.  Mary’s song becomes the song of her son, whose ministry will echo his mother’s outrageous tune about God’s blessing on the least and the lost.

This is the Mary we need this Christmas.  We need this disciple – the first disciple – to show us how to say yes to this blessedly crazy plan of God to be born into this sulking world, not just once, not just at Christmas time, but also every day. We need Mary to teach us the song of joy that God is still interrupting the lives of lowly people -- people like Mary and people like you and me – and entrusting them to do great things.  Mary invites us into this story that affirms what our hearts so often do not dare to believe.  That God is fully present and fully in us, just waiting to be born.  Here and now.  Again and again. Every single day we are alive. This is the good news of Mary’s Christmas carol. 

But do not be naïve.  Mary may have at some point regretted ever teaching this song to her beloved son.  Later, when Mary witnessed the human expression of God’s love slaughtered by an empire who saw God’s purposes as a threat to their own, perhaps she wished that she had stayed silent.  We may also choose silence as the safer course for ourselves, even now. The world still does not much like the upside down view that Mary sings in which the values of a violent, cruel and unjust world are replaced with peace, kindness and mercy.   

Thanks be to God that Mary was courageous enough to sing.  And thanks be to God that, in every age, her song is still being sung.

In the face of all the wrong that is all so strong, we need to sing and keep singing Mary’s song of liberation and hope.  Mary’s song is our song. Mary’s song is our inheritance. And if we are at any moment tempted to think of passive, pious, placid Mary as a model of Christian life, we need to shake off the dust of inaction and start singing.   Here and now.

Can you be open to the interruption of Christ being reborn in you, this Christmas?  Will you welcome the invitation into the dance, or resent God’s summons that completely disregards your sloth or anxiety or insecurity or fear? 

When we allow God to be born in us, there is no telling, no telling at all, what will come to pass.  Let us in these quiet moments of waiting dwell deeply in the mystery that was God’s gift to Mary and God’s gift to us.   Angels are still speaking if we only have the courage to listen.  There are messages of joy for us to hear if only we have faith enough to receive them.  We have been chosen – you and me -- to birth God’s love into this world. How can this be?  With God.  All things are possible.

Thanks be to God.  Amen.

---

[1] Andrew King, “A Poetic Kind of Place,” downloaded on 12/18/14. https://earth2earth.wordpress.com

[2] Debie Thomas. Journey With Jesus website, “The Pause Before Yes.” Downloaded on 12/17/14. http://www.journeywithjesus.net/index.shtml

[3] Taylor, Barbara Brown. Home by Another Way, 17.

[4] http://susanjoan.wordpress.com/2008/12/22/the-magnificat-2/

Advent 3B -- December 14, 2014

Like Those Who Dream

For audio, click here:  https://soundcloud.com/emsworthup/december-14-2014-11-22-03-am


Psalm 126           

¹When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream.

²Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then it was said among the nations, “The Lord has done great things for them.”

³The Lord has done great things for us, and we rejoiced.

⁴Restore our fortunes, O Lord, like the watercourses in the Negeb.

⁵May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy.

⁶Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves.           

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11                                                                                                                                         The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; ²to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; ³to provide for those who mourn in Zion— to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit. They will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, to display his glory.⁴They shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations.

⁸For I the Lord love justice, I hate robbery and wrongdoing; I will faithfully give them their recompense, and I will make an everlasting covenant with them. ⁹Their descendants shall be known among the nations, and their offspring among the peoples; all who see them shall acknowledge that they are a people whom the Lord has blessed. ¹⁰I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my whole being shall exult in my God; for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation, he has covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels. ¹¹For as the earth brings forth its shoots, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up, so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring up before all the nations.

When I was a little girl, my great Aunt Ruth lived with us during the last years of her life.  My mother converted our dining room into a room for Aunt Ruth, and it was a beautiful space, with big bay windows that allowed Aunt Ruth to sit in her wheelchair, bask in the warm sunlight and observe the activity in the neighborhood.   And the activity that Aunt Ruth loved to observe the most was watching me walk home from elementary school.  From her perch, she could see me slowly wander up the hill doing something that just tickled her to pieces.  I talked to the trees.  She just loved watching this little girl meandering towards home, dreamily chatting to herself and the big poplars that lined our street.  I wish I could tell you what I was talking about, but I have no idea.  But for most of my childhood, I had the reputation of being a daydreamer.  I was the kind of kid who is was so preoccupied with talking to trees and creating stories in my mind that I tripped on the sidewalk and skinned my knees at least once a week.

And I still have the scars to prove it.  And I bet a few of you do too.  I’m willing to bet I’m not the only one here who had the reputation of being a dreamy kid.  When we are children, when life seems to stretch out endlessly before us, filled with nothing but promise and possibilities, dreaming comes naturally.  When we are children, everything is possible and nothing seems impossible.  If we can dream it, it can most certainly happen.

Then, at some point, we grow up and life slaps the dreaming right out of us.  We wake up and can see reality with all its sharp and dangerous edges.  At some point, we lose our ability to daydream, and begin thinking like straight up rational adults.  We remember exactly where that bump in the sidewalk is located and will go way out of our way to walk around it.  Even at night, we no longer sink into that deep and dream-filled slumber that comes so easily to children.  When we get into bed at night, many of us spend more time tossing and turning than dreaming.   

Maybe that’s one of the reasons we are so grateful for Christmas when it finally rolls around every year.  There’s something downright dreamy and child-like about the Christmas story.  The Christmas story isn’t brightly lit, but bathed in soft starlight with plenty of bumps on the way. The story we hear about Jesus’ birth at Christmas is so outrageous, it sometimes seems like a fantastical fairy tale that could only be imagined by a child.  It is an impossible story, about a majestic and mighty God coming down to earth and taking on all of the frailty and foibles of human flesh.  It is a crazy story of the king of kings and lord of lords being born into a most unremarkable family, in the most inhospitable environment imaginable.  It is an improbable story, complete with stinky shepherds and corrupt politicians and sneaky magicians and heavenly bands of angels appearing out of nowhere in the middle of the night.  It is a story so impossible that it has mostly become the stuff of children’s pageants, because it may be that the Christmas story is so fantastic that only a child can believe whole-heartedly in it. 

Because the Christmas story is the stuff of an imagination that cannot be contained or controlled or tamed by human reason.  The Christmas story is the product of God’s inventiveness, God’s dreaming, God’s intention for how the world will be forever changed and redeemed.  And maybe the only way that God could imagine changing a world that very often makes no sense at all is through a story that makes no sense, at least to a reasonable adult mind.  But God’s dream – this scandalous, child-like dream -- makes all the sense in the world.  God’s dream of incarnation makes all the difference for the world. 

Both of our Advent texts today invite us to become like people who dream.  Children and grown ups alike are invited into God’s imagination through the words of the psalmist and the prophet.  And, not surprisingly, God’s dreams startles us with the insistence that life as we see it is not how God sees it.  Which is why, if we’re going to enter into the Christmas story with all of our hearts, the first thing we have to do is let go of our hard earned realism.  Advent calls us to become like dreamers who are not shaped by the limits of our experience.  We have to open our minds to the limitless possibilities inspired by God. 

The psalmist speaks of Zion’s dreams of restoration after years of agonizing exile in foreign land.  We see God’s people who, despite great tragedy, have begun to dream again, and what they are imagining is not just restoration for themselves, but for all people.  We see people who dream of restored relationships that filled not with anger or distrust, but with laughter and joy.  We see people dreaming of a new community, so overflowing with God’s justice and peace, that other nations look upon them with great amazement and say, “Look at that!  Look at what God is doing through them!”  We see people dreaming of tears and weeping being transformed into great shouts of joy. 

The people begin to dream of something wildly and divinely new, trusting that the Lord who has done great things for them in the past has the imaginative power to do great things through them in the present, even through their tears and weeping. 

If we cannot dream in Advent, when can we dream my brothers and sisters?  When can we make room in our hearts, in our worship, in our prayers for God’s dreams if not in Advent?

Ok, I’m going to tell you a story about how my family celebrated Christmas when I was a little girl that’s going to make you think they are terrible people, but they weren’t.  Believe me.  They were just goof balls.  Particularly, my goof ball uncles.

Every year at Christmas, we would gather at my great-grandparents’ farmhouse, the only place big enough to contain my extended family for Christmas dinner.  We’re talking a cast of thousands here. Total mayhem.  In my mind’s eye, I remember sitting at a dining room table that seemed to go on forever and ever with hundreds of people, just like the Who’s in Whoville, but it’s more likely I was sitting at the kid’s table in the kitchen.  In any event, when dinner was over, one of my uncles would stand up and say, “Kids!  Check the bottom of your plate.  Whoever finds a red dot on the bottom will win a prize.”  Every year, my uncles did this.  And every year, the awarding of the prize would go something like this:

“Susan!  You’ve got the sticker!  You’ve won!”

“Uncle Bobby, what did I win?”

“Well, Susie, ba-doozie, what do you think you’ve won?

“I don’t know.”

“What would you like to win?”

“Uh.  A color television?”

“That’s it!  You’ve won a color television!  Merry Christmas!”

Whichever uncle was in charge that year would send the winner running upstairs to one of the bedrooms where the child would expect to find their gift-wrapped color television waiting for them.  And when the child got to the bedroom, you know what he or she would find?  Nothing but a giant pile of coats stacked on the bed.  No prize.  No present.  Not a color television to be found.  One year, my cousin won and she expected to go upstairs and find a gift-wrapped pony.  It was very disappointing, and maybe we weren’t the smartest kids because we fell for it every single year until we finally got tired of playing.  We got too old and too wise to believe our uncles anymore.  Experience finally taught us to give up on ever getting the pony, to ignore the goofballs at the other end of the table, and just eat a few more Christmas cookies.

I know that’s a terrible Christmas story, but here’s the point.  We are like those worldly wise and pouting teenagers at the table, shoving cookies into our mouths because we’ve stopped believing in the possibility of God surprising us.  The people who heard the prophet Isaiah were the kind of people who had the rug pulled out from under them at least once too often, and were loath to believe any of the promises of God.  No more, Isaiah.  You’re not going to fool us, you crazy dreamer, you.  The exiles returning to Jerusalem took one look at what was left and felt as betrayed by God as I felt betrayed by my uncles.  No temple.  No homes.  No there, there. Nothing left in the place that was once God’s glorious city. 

But Isaiah speaks to them of this dream given to him by the spirit of the Lord God.  A dream not rooted in the sharp edges of the reality staring them in the face, but in God’s reality.  Before the people of Israel can begin the hard work of building up the ancient ruins, raising up the former devastations, and repairing the ruined cities, they have to learn to dream again.  To trust not only the voice of the prophet, but also the dreaming purposefulness of God. 

Can we dream of our ugly Christmas sweaters – and let’s admit, we all have ugly Christmas sweaters -- we dream of our Christmas garb as our garments of salvation?  Can we dream of our wrapping paper as a robe of righteousness?  Can we dream of our bows and tinsel and twinkle lights as the garland that decks the bridegroom and the jewels adorning the bride? 

Can we dream that in receiving the gift of Jesus Christ, we have been entrusted with God’s dream of bringing good news to the oppressed, binding up the brokenhearted, proclaiming liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners, proclaiming the Lord’s favor, comforting all that mourn – to adorn the whole world with garlands, anoint the whole world with oil, and boldly raise a mantle of praise instead of letting our exhaustion lead us to drop the hammer of cynicism?

It would be so much easier to limit our Christmas dreams to nothing more than a few flakes of snow, some holly, and maybe a new television.  Those are perfectly fine dreams, but they are not the dreams of the prophets.  They are not God’s dreams.

Several generations later, the scriptures tell of us of another dreamer, another prophet, another man who came back to his hometown synagogue to preach. The fourth chapter of the gospel of Luke tells us that this man was given a scroll to read.

He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written:

‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

   because he has anointed me

     to bring good news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives

   and recovery of sight to the blind,

     to let the oppressed go free,

to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.’

And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then he began to say to them, ‘Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’ (Luke 4:17-21)

We remember from this text that the people stared at this man for a long time, because he had read well.  But they saw him not as a prophet or the Messiah, or the Son of God, but as Joseph’s son, that dreamy kid they knew when he was growing up.  And a couple verses later, when Jesus speaks of God’s dreams for all people, not just their kind of people, his friends and neighbors wanted to kill him, like the prophets before him.  But God’s dream was Jesus’ mission on earth.  A mission that has been passed down to us – the people of God.

On this third Sunday of Advent, let us be thankful for dreamers.  Let us be thankful for God’s dream of abundant life and great joy for all people, in all places, in all times.  Let us be thankful for the dreams of righteousness, even in the face of the sharp edges and cruel injustices that still rule in our streets and in our lives.  May we have the child-like courage to bear witness to what God is doing among us by speaking truth, even hard truth, the kind of truth that will build up ancient ruins, raise up former devastations, repair our ruined cities and the devastation of too many generations.  May we provide comfort for those who mourn, and give them a garland of joy instead of ashes.  May we be blessed with the treasure that is God’s dream that is coming to us in Jesus.  May we welcome the scars that mark us as God’s dreaming people.

Thanks be to God.  Amen.