Luke 9: 28-36 [i]

Lauren J. McFeaters
March 3, 2019
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People of faith, do a lot of holding each other up. It’s intuitive.  It’s instinctive.

• A friend is sick – we make soup.
• Someone needs a ride to a medical test – we drive.
• A school needs extra supplies – we collect.
• Our neighbor’s husband has surgery – we sit with her in the surgical waiting room.
• There’s devastating news from a colleague – we weep beside them.
• Our grandchild is exhausted from everything required at school – we provide a calm, secure space.

Throughout a life of faith, we learn to hold each other up the mountains and steady each other on the way down.

Today, Jesus takes us to the mountain. The Transfiguration. It’s an odd and confounding climb.

It’s strange: the entrance of two long-deceased Hebrew prophets. It’s unusual: Jesus’ reformed face and astounding clothing. And it turns out to be a bridge for us into Lent. We move between Jesus’ baptism, with “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased,” and his resurrected transfigured and transformed self. [ii]

You’d think Peter and Company would not have been so shaken. You’d think by now, after all the healings, all the preaching, all the miracles, all the conversations, they’d be prepared on a mountain for visons and wonders. And surely by now they’d  remember when you go up a mountain there’s bound to be a cloud.

When the Israelites are liberated from Egypt, and  wandering in the wilderness, God stayed with them in a pillar of fire by night, and a pillar of cloud by day. The cloud guided and mapped their way.

When the Israelites were afraid, hungry, thirsty, and need God’s presence —all they needed to do was look to the cloud. The cloud protects and shelters.

When Moses climbed Sinai to receive from God the Ten Commandments, a cloud descended upon the mountain, and envelopes them. The people can no longer see. The cloud shields and separates.

When God instructs the Israelites to construct a totable Tabernacle, God fills the tent with God’s Presence in the form of a cloud. And, later, when Solomon builds the Temple, once again a cloud filled the sanctuary. The cloud radiates God’s power.

So, when the cloud descends atop the mountaintop with Jesus, these disciples shouldn’t be left dazed that it has surrounded and enveloped them.

But they are. And so are we.

Because what a sight. Not your average follow the cloud, or find shelter in the cloud, or look up at the cloud. This is no fog or vapor or haze or smog. This cloud is front page news. It radiates God’s power, envelopes, and encircles.

And if that’s not enough, here’s Moses, on his first ever, inaugural visit to the Promised Land, a land from which he was banned, barred, and forbidden by God to enter. And here is Moses having a conversation with Jesus and once again encased in a cloud.

Here’s Elijah, priest, prophet, God’s miracle worker for whom a table’s been set at every Passover feast but who has never shown up. And here he is having a conversation with Jesus and once again wrapped in a cloud.

And here’s Jesus, shining, dazzling, blazing like the sun; face transformed and transfixed; his whole person transfigured as God announces from the cloud: [iii]

“This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”

“This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.”

“You are my Son, whom I adore. And I am well pleased.”

On the edge of Lent, on the brink of end, on the threshold of climbing up the road to Jerusalem to die, Jesus, climbs into the hills for rest, for prayer, for solitude. Perhaps to get a mountaintop perspective.

One preacher puts it like this: from the mountaintop looking over the land of Galilee, if he narrows his eyes, perhaps Jesus can see the little girl he raised from the dead a few days before. She’s now playing with other children in front of her house.

Perhaps he can see Herod, pacing back and forth on his palace rooftop, nervous in his movement, agitated in his striding. He’s gotten rid of John the Baptist. Now what will he do about this Jesus character.

Perhaps Jesus sees a crowd gathering on one hillside asking one another, “Where is that man who gave us bread and fish? We’re starving again!”

Perhaps from another direction Jesus sees a group of people huddled around a small boy who’s twisting in pain and there are the parents filled with anguish. Everyone’s asking,  “Where’s that man who heals?”

On the edge of Lent, on the brink of end, on the threshold of climbing up the road to Jerusalem, perhaps all of us need a mountaintop experience. [iv]

Alyce McKenzie puts it like this, if you know what it is like to hold people up and what it’s like to be bone-dead tired. If you know what it’s like to have people judging you and gossiping about you, you have a share with Jesus in this mountaintop experience.

And if you are filled with fear at what lies ahead, and terror you won’t endure it, you have a share with Jesus in this mountaintop experience.

If you have ever compromised your faith or felt the pain of separation from God, you have a share with Moses in this mountaintop experience.

If you’ve running scared, hiding out, begging for God to take your life. If you’ve said to God, “I can’t take any more pain. I’m done,” you have a share with Elijah in this mountaintop experience. [v]

At Nassau, if you want some faith perspective on mountain top experiences all you need to do is talk to Mark and Janine Edwards and Adeline and Elias. They’re mountaintop people. Literally. They’ll carry the load when you can’t do it anymore. And you’ll do the thing that seemed impossible.

If you want some spiritual perspective on mountain top experiences all you need to do is join those who have climbed Beyond Malibu or trekked the Camino or put up sheet rock and stabilized flooring in Appalachia or rehabbed a staircase down the street. They help us see a new horizon and show us how to hold each other up.

Even if you’ve never climbed or scaled up a mountain you can still appreciate what it means for the Christian life. After all, people of faith, do a lot of holding each other up. It’s what we do. It’s in our blood. It’s in our bones.

Maybe this Lent, following Jesus, knowing he is the Chosen One, listening to him, we can all the better climb together and hold each other up. It’s tough. There’s always more hill. Always one more crest to traverse east, then traverse west.

So when the path gets steep and treacherous. When we clutch onto one another. When we cry out to God. That’s where we catch a glimpse of grace and glory. That’s when Jesus turns his radiance to us, offers his hand, and never lets us go. Take his hand.

ENDNOTES

[i] Luke 9: 28-36 / NRSV:  Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah” —not knowing what he said. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and, in those days, told no one any of the things they had seen.
[ii] David Lose. “Transfiguration C: Listen to Him.” March 1, 2019, Davidlose.net.

[iii] Susan Gamelin. “Transfiguration: Mark 9.” February 26, 2006, Day1.org.

[iv] Alyce McKenzie. “A Transforming Transfiguration: Reflections on Luke 9:28-36.” February 3, 2013, Patheos.com.

[v] Alyce McKenzie.

 

 

Psalm 37:1-9
David A. Davis
February 24, 2019
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*The psalmist: Do not fret. *Everyone else: Yeah, like it’s ever that easy.
*The psalmist: Do not fret because of the wicked. *Everyone else: But the bad guys always seem to win.
*The psalmist: Do not fret when the bad guys always seem to win. *Everyone else: Seriously?
*The psalmist: Do not fret—it leads only to evil. *Everyone else: what does “fret” even mean.
*The psalmist: Do not fret. *Everyone else: No response.
*The psalmist: Do not fret. *Everyone else: I’m done with this conversation.
*The psalmist: (Now in Caps). DO NOT FRET. *Everyone else: (Now in caps) STOP.

Early in the week I kept thinking the psalmist just sounded like an old soul giving advice. Old soul, like your grandmother, or your Aunt Kate, or your old Pop-Pop. The psalmist sort of sounds like an old soul giving advice to a grandchild stressed out about school, or to a niece whose first job out of college isn’t going well, or to a son whose own now young adult child can’t seem to launch and is still living at home. “Now, now, do not fret.” The psalmist sounds like an old soul because it sounds like such an old word, fret. Does anyone ever use that word anymore? Fret. Fretful. Fretted. The Brits even use it as a noun as in “Ian is in such a fret.”

Do not fret.

What started in my encounter with Psalm 37 this week as sage advice coming from a well-worn traveler along the journey of faith started to turn a bit toward feeling like the psalmist was sounding annoyingly simplistic, naïve, and kitschy. Like “don’t worry, be happy” and “turn your scars into stars” and “the be happy attitudes.” After all, if you ever happen to hear it from an angel, “Do not be afraid”, we all learned in our first Christmas pageant that that’s what angels say. And when it comes from Jesus, “Let not your hearts be troubled and neither let them not be afraid”, it comes with the countenance of the Savior. But when the psalmist says, “Do not fret”, it sounds a bit lippy. Three times here in Psalm 37: Do not fret. Do not fret. Do not fret.

You will remember one of those car trip travel games you play when the kids are in the back seat and its going to be quite a long haul. When they are still too young to see how many license plates they can find from different states and before the plethora of electronic options were available. “I’m going to Grandma’s house and I am going to take an apple…. I’m going to Grandma’s house and I am going to take an apple and a black lab….I’m going to Grandma’s house and I am going to take an apple, a black lab, and a crockpot full of baked beans. So, you know the alphabet game.
Psalm 37 is a biblical version of the alphabet game. Each snippet, each phrase, some one verse others a couple verses, each starts with the consecutive letters from the Hebrew alphabet. It’s an acrostic. Rather than some form of poetic flow in content like Psalm 23 for instance, Psalm 37 is more like a smattering of takes on the flawed way of the wicked and an assurance of the comfort and salvation found in God and God’s way. All 40 verses of psalm 37 contains 22 stanzas each starting with each letter from the Hebrew alphabet: the wicked will soon fade like the grass….take delight in the Lord….yet a little while the wicked will be no more…but the meek will inherit the earth….Better is a little that the righteous person has than the abundance of many wicked….Transgressors shall be altogether destroyed, the posterity of the wicked shall be cut off…..The salvation of the righteous is from the Lord; God is their refuge in the time of trouble.
It is like an alphabetized summary of how the wicked are talked about all through the Psalms and the promise of God’s salvation is lifted over and over again. There’s really nothing new in Psalm 37, nothing different. It’s the wisdom of the psalms, of the whole of scripture for that matter. Trust in the Lord and do good…Be still before the Lord…the meek shall inherit the earth.
Nothing new. Nothing different. Except this: Do not fret. Fret. If I did my homework correctly, the word fret does not occur all that often in English translations of the bible. In fact, in most translations it only occurs here in Psalm 37 and in Proverbs 24 which says exactly the same thing; “Do not fret because of evildoers.” The King James has a couple of more citings in the Old Testament but only a few. In Hebrew, forms of the word can be translated “be angry, become heated, fly into passion.” The word in Hebrew is all through the Old Testament. But here in Psalm 37, uniquely translated three times, do not fret. Fret. One translation use “do not get heated”. Another reads “do not get upset” which sort of zaps the life right out of it and sounds like something a new age life coach would say sitting next to the babbling water device sitting on the end table in the dimly lit office of relaxation.

The psalmist may come off sounding annoyingly simplistic, naïve, and kitschy but you ought not to water it down either. In fact, it seems as if the unique refrain is intended to pop off the page at you. “Do not fret! Do not fret! Do not fret!” You really cannot miss it. Do not fret. You certainly can’t ignore it. Do not fret. And you can’t write it off, either. Do not fret. It is certainly not intended to roll off the psalmist’s pen like some sort of branded, cheap, catching advice. The psalmist just doesn’t say it all that much. Just right here. Fret.

Just right here. Here in a Psalm 37. The psalmist says that same thing in 22 different ways, 22 times, the way of the wicked will perish, and God’s way of salvation is steadfast and sure. Think about this: if the psalmist wrote in one way or another 22 times, if the psalmist was inspired to write and acrostic using the whole alphabet, if the psalmist was inspired to write in this not uncommon form of poetry about all the wicked, if the whole contrast between the way of the wicked and the way of God comes up all through the psalms, the way of the wicked and the way of the Lord, then the wicked must have been doing really well, thank you very much. There had to have been a whole lot of prospering going on for those who chose to carry out evil devices. It must have been the case that the rich were getting richer and the poor were getting poorer and that those had much were not doing much for those who had so little, and the sick and the widows and the orphans must not have been well cared for if at all, and violence and destruction and suffering must have been rampant. Life in the world must have been very far away from that which God intended. And the psalmist wrote “Do not fret”.

I went to the doctor for my annual physical this week. At the beginning the nurse was running down the list of questions on her computer screen. She asked if at any time in the last few weeks I found myself feeling down and helpless. I told her only when I watched the news. I didn’t intend to make light of the reality and the prevalence of depression. I wasn’t making a political statement. Nor was I trying to be funny. I just sort of answered without thinking. A reaction not unlike the one in my leg when the doctor later bopped me on the knee with that rubber hammer. A reaction to how far away life in the world seems to be from what God intends.

Psalm 37. Maybe the psalmist sounds a lot less like an old soul with a bit of wisdom, and not really as annoyingly simplistic, naïve, and kitschy as it sounds on a first pass, maybe psalmist is just being prophetic. For the powers of evil and darkness will never conquer the everlasting light of the promise of God. The never-ending earthly wiles that bring out the worst in humankind will one day fade away as the reign of God stretches to every corner of creation here on earth as it is heaven. Sinfulness in all its abundance abounds, and still justice will roll like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. Put not your trust in the treasures of this world for they will perish, but trust in the Lord, take delight in the Lord, and God will grant you the desires of your heart. Twenty-two times the psalmist says it: the way of the wicked…the way of the Lord. Do not fret. Pray for it. Never stop working for it. Always yearn for it. But do not fret.

When our children were young there was a time when we decided to find a couple of new table graces that we use. All of us, including them, were ready for a change after the few we used all the time when they were very young. One of them we started back then was just the last few words of Psalm 27: Wait for the Lord, be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord! Looking back now, the word thank you was no where to be found and food wasn’t even mentioned. But I bet they remember it. I hope they remember it. I pray that they remember it. There’s no thank you and no food. But it’s can be a prayer, nonetheless. Not just a meal time prayer but an all-day prayer. Certainly, an all-night prayer. A prayer for every moment. A pray for every fret. Wait for the Lord. Be strong and let your heart take courage. Wait for the Lord.

*The Psalmist: Do not fret. *Everyone else: We’re trying.
*The Psalmist: Do not fret *Everyone else: Only with God’s help and by God’s grace.
*The Psalmist: Do not fret *Everyone else: Wait for the Lord. Be strong and let your heart take courage.

 

Psalm 1
David A. Davis
February 17, 2019
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Almost every Sunday, after each service of worship, I spend a few moments out front, at the top of the steps, talking to the trees. Some will remember that I have told you that before. It happens in the very minutes right after the benediction, while you are listening to or joining in on the benediction response; just before the first notes of the postlude, just before the greeting line at the door begins. In that time all by myself, I stand out there and talk to the two trees that stand watch like the gatekeepers of Palmer Square. Sometimes I look at the other trees up and down the street but it’s those two over there with the bench in the middle; they’re my best tree friends. It’s not that I talk out loud or anything, you don’t have to start worrying about me. But every Sunday I look at how those trees mark the steady march of time with their beauty and their changing color and their now barren branches. I notice how the trees age too. After all, I’ve been talking to them for 18 years or so now. I see how they have weathered the storms and how they offer sure and certain signs of the coming of spring and how they absolutely shine on a stunning October Lord’s Day morning.
I look at those trees and I think of all that they have witnessed standing tall over there. All the “Communiversities”, and jazz fests, and graduations, and reunions. All the times the community is out there for a rally or a march, not just the one a few weeks ago, but for generations. I have a picture in my office from the newspaper of a huge crowd gathered out there the day of Dr. King was shot. There must have been a crowd out there when World War II ended. There was crowd out there the night after 9/11 when everyone was coming in here for prayer. And it was quite a stream of folks of all faiths that passed under those trees to come in here not long ago after the Tree of Life shootings. A generation of protests and concerts and celebrations. And those trees stood tall.
The trees must look back over here at the church too; a witness to all that has gone on here. I bet the trees stand taller on a wedding day, saluting the couple as they stand on the steps for a picture before heading down the steps into a life together. How many Christmas Eves have those trees stood in the quite darkness joining all of creation in somehow remembering and honoring that first night when everything stopped to worship and bow down? On Easter day, the trees try their best to look like spring even when a whacky Easter calendar tosses one of those curve balls of a way too early Easter Sunday. When a casket is walked down toward the hearse parked at the curb, as I lead the procession across the front plaza I always look up wondering about the silent prayer of thanksgiving for life coming from the trees.
“They are like trees” the psalmist writes. Like trees. “They are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in its seasons, and their leaves do not wither. In all that they do, the prosper.”
Those who delight in the law of the Lord and meditate on it day and night, “They are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in its seasons, and their leaves do not wither.”
Those who avoid the seat of scoffers, those who stay away from scoffing and mocking and ridiculing, not just directed at God, but at other people. Those who don’t choose the jam-packed bus load of scoffers, “they are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in its seasons.”
The ones who find a different path, who try to choose the narrower way, the ones who over and over again search not for the road well-worn by sinners, not that way but rather the pathway of righteousness, “they are like trees planted by streams of water.”
Those who do not follow the advice of the wicked, who turn from the way of evil, who yearn to discern what comes from light rather than darkness, those who seek advice about goodness, and kindness, and mercy, “they are like trees.”
Like trees. Blessed are they. They are like trees.
Keeping watch. Marking. Leaning in. Pointing. Along the way of righteousness. The pathway of God. Planted solidly in the kingdom of God, where roots are fed by the Living Water of God’s Spirit, where nourishment comes from the rich soil of the Word of God, where strength and guidance and passion, they are all drawn from the flowing stream of God’s righteousness and God’s justice and God’s peace. Thriving both in season and out of season, bearing fruit when the Spirit calls for the harvest. Standing tall when the very promise of God requires a quiet, persistent, almost dormant presence. Leaning into the storms of life that shall surely come, holding on to the roots of faith for dear life, clinging to nothing other than the strength of God, knowing that no season, no storm, nothing in life or in death shall splinter the love of God. Like trees planted by the streams of water are those who stand along the righteous pathway of God.
My wife, Cathy, and I went to McCarter Theater on Wednesday night to hear a wonderful jazz vocalist whose name is Dianne Reeves. It was one of those concerts you could listen to all night long. The song performed for the encore was called “The Grandma Song.” She wrote it in memory and in honor of her grandmother. When I looked it up, the official title is “Better Days.” Listen to these lyrics:
All day, I’d ask questions
At night I’d ask more
But whenever, she never, would ever, turn me away/
I’d say how can I be sure what is right or wrong?
And why does what I want always take so long?
Please tell where does God live?
And why won’t he talk to me?
I’d say, Grandma, what is love?
Why are we so poor, what is life about?
I want to know the answers before I fall off to sleep.

She sort of smiled as she tucked me in.
Then she pulled up that old rockin chair once again.
But tonight she was slightly, remarkably
Different somehow
Slowly she rocked , lookin half asleep
Grandma yawned as she stretched

Then she started to speak.
What she told me, would mold me and hold me
Together inside.

She said all the things you ask
You will know someday.
But you have got to live in a patient way.
God put us here by fate.
And by fate that means better days.
She said, child we are all moons in the dark of night.

Ain’t no morning gonna come til the time is right.
Can’t get to better days lest you make it through the nignt.
You gotta make it through the night, yes you do
You can’t get to better days
Unless you make it through the night.
Oh you will see those better days
But you gotta patient.
Blessed are those who yearn with patience for better days, and know that God is with them, and they will make it through the night. For they are like……trees.
Not long ago my local clergy bible study group was discussing the gospel lesson from Luke that you heard read just a minute ago here in worship. “But I say to you that listen, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek offer the other also, from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you, and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do so to you.” In the conversation I said, “Maybe Robert Fulgram was right 25 years ago when he wrote that book “All I Ever Needed to Know in Life I Learned in Kindergarten.” And that when it comes to trying to live the gospel, I said, all you needed to learn you learned early on in Sunday School.” A colleague responded with something along these lines, “You better learn it then because trying to be faithful in life only gets too blasted complicated every year after that!”
Blessed are those who crave the gospel Jesus taught and offer a witness with their lives, affirming the most basic, simple, yet essential testimony to the Christian life; do to others as you would have them to do you, for they are like….trees.
A few weeks back I gave the charge to Lukata Mjumbe, the new pastor at Witherspoon Street Presbyterian Church, at his installation. One of the stories I told was this: I spent the summer of 1983 working at an internship with a ministry called “Voice of Calvary Ministries” in Jackson, Miss. The ministry was an intentionally integrated congregation and community service agency started by an influential author and preacher in my life named John Perkins. John Perkins wrote a book back in the day called “Let Justice Roll Down”. I had applied with a parachurch organization out of college to do mission work somewhere, someplace overseas in fact, I think I requested Zimbabwe. They sent me to Jackson, MS, which, for a public school kid like me from a middle class white suburb outside of Pittsburgh who had never been anywhere accept my college campus in Cambridge, Massachusetts, was indeed a foreign land, somewhere, someplace. Voice of Calvary brought 15 or so college kids from around the country to the city of Jackson to live in one big old house and work in the various agencies and bible schools and bible studies and worship services. By far, the hardest part of that summer of cultural immersion and living with a diverse group of Christian college kids from around the country was…..living in the same house with Christian kids from around the country. We hit a low around the end of July when we would go to the grocery store and keep our food all separate and labeled because we couldn’t agree on what to cook, how much to pay for it, and whose turn it was to do the chores. One of the saints of that community, and African American woman who seemed like she was 134 at time, she asked me how things were going. I told her living all in the same house was really hard and I shared how disappointed and how frustrated I was. She laughed, sighed, and said me, “Oh sweetie, didn’t you ever read your bible? Living with the other Christians is always the hardest part! You can’t let it get you down.”
Blessed are those who learned a long time ago that living with the Christians is sometimes the hardest part, and yet, they don’t let it get them down because they know God will make a way. And when it comes to church, and living in Christian fellowship, and being part of the Body of Christ somewhere, someplace, they never give up. They are like……trees.
This morning as I baptized Charlotte, I offered this prayer, a traditional prayer of baptism, a prayer used in our congregation over each and every young person being confirmed in the faith:
“Defend, O Lord, your servant Charlotte
With your heavenly grace
That she may continue yours forever
And daily increase in your Holy Spirit more and more
Until she comes to your everlasting kingdom”

In other words, O God, in your grace and mercy, may Charlotte be like…..a tree.
Along this journey to which each of us have called by Great God Almighty, along this journey of faith, God knows and you know, sometimes it can feel like your in such a forest full of the thick realities of everyday life. And I want you to know it helps to look for the trees, to look for those mighty oaks of faith, the well worn maples who been through every season, the steady pines who tirelessly stand for the other, the weeping cherries who have known both joy and sorrow, and the young dogwoods whose blossoming faith is the most beautiful you can imagine.
When you try to walk down this path of the Lord’s way of righteousness, God gives you these trees planted by the streams of the living water of God’s grace.
You ought to talk to them. You have to talk to them.

 

Psalm 139
Anne Stewart
February 10, 2019
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Guest Preacher – Audio Only.

 

Psalm 71
David A. Davis
February 3, 2019
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It just sounds like such a psalm, Psalm 71. “In you, O Lord, I take refuge…Incline your ear to me and save me. Be to me rock of refuge, a strong fortress to save, for you are my rock and my fortress.” So…..psalm-like. “O God, do not be far from me; O my God, make haste to help me! . . . I will hope continually and praise you yet more and more….I will also praise you with the harp for your faithfulness, O my God; I will sing praise to you with lyre.”  Yeah, that sounds like a psalmist. Sort of like if you were listening to piece of music you didn’t’ quite recognize, you could guess it was Bach, or Brahms, or Beethoven, or Basie, Bacharach, or Beyonce. The notes, the lyrics, the tune, the tone. It’s a psalm.

Even the wishing ill for enemies, for those who seek to hurt, for accusers, the asking for some inkling of divine retribution, it’s sort of psalm-ish, to be honest. “Let my enemies be put to shame and consumed; let those who seek to hurt me be covered with scorn and disgrace.”  There’s a lot of that in the psalms; not just save me from my enemies but a few burning coals heaped on their head would be good too, Lord. “Those who surround me lift up their heads, let the mischief of their lips overwhelm them! Let burning coals fall on them! Let them be flung into pits, no more to rise!” (Psalm 141). Plenty more where that came from; just like Psalm 71. Asking God to not only protect but to squash the haters like a bug.

Editors of English bibles fill those parts with exclamation points hoping the reader will conclude its all hyperbole. That the psalmists were, in their enthusiasm or praise, their zest for God’s way, that they were all exaggerating, perhaps, in a poetic way. “Let those who seek to hurt me be covered with scorn and disgrace.” It makes you and I uncomfortable, such a cry for vengeance. Challenges the sensibilities. But, you know, it sounds like the psalmist. And it’s less about those ancient hymn writing poets using hyperbole and a lot more about them being….human. The psalmists and their humanity. There’s something comforting, even liberating about it for those of us who have had more than our share of similar thoughts.

Which makes the psalmist’s affirmation of life long praise, the psalmist’s longing for life long trust, the psalmist’s yearning to offer a witness to a life long faith in the steadfast mercy and power and protection of God, it makes it all so much more…real. “For you, O Lord, are my hope, my trust, O Lord, from my youth. Upon you I have leaned from my birth…Do not cast me off in the time of old age; do not forsake me when my strength is spent….I will hope continually and will praise you yet more and more…O God from my youth you have taught me and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds. So even to old and age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to all the generations come.” From birth, to youth, to old age. All of life. From cradle to the grave. I will praise. I will trust. I will sing. I will proclaim all that you have done. “My lips will shout for joy when I sing praises to you; my soul also, which you have rescued.”

            Here’s where some will ask how on earth it would be possible to attest to such life long praise. When the psalmist writes of strength that is spent in old age, one would think there would certainly be testimony to moments of weakness in faith, or just a bit of doubt, of of feeling distant from God. Some acknowledgement of a season of not being able to praise, trust, sing, proclaim. Some time in life, some time in the span of life when it’s not just weak knees and drooping hands (to use the phrase from the Book of Hebrews) but a span of weak faith and a drooping spirit as well. So unrealistic! So perfect. So not like my life. Might as well right off the psalmist and those of the psalmist’s ilk, set aside those who sound so psalm-like. “Come, on! Life long praise, seriously?”

To which the appropriate response would be…..LOL!   “This is the psalmist who ask God to put the accusers to shame, to consume the enemies, to take those who seek to hurt and cover them with scorn and disgrace! You think that psalmist, that vaunted poet of faith so utterly human that the thirst for revenge and payback can’t be contained, you think that psalmist never had a bad day of faith? Come on!” The psalms are songs. Poems, hymns, works of art. So full of prayers. Hopes. Dreams. Longings. Aspirations. Like life long praise, like cradle to grave faith. I so want to trust you, O God! I yearn to praise you’re name all the days of my life! Help me, Lord, to lead a life of praise and adoration and gratitude to you!

Earlier this week my wife, Cathy, and I went to McCarter Theater to listen to the Lincoln Center Chamber Orchestra play an evening of piano quartets. My favorite was the Brahms. All through the piece you could hear the measures of the melody moving from the violin to the viola to the cello to the piano and back again. Over and over, again. Volume changes, maybe the tempo shifts, sometimes each musician would rest and just listen. But the melody kept coming back. That’s how the melody of praise and trust works in the concerto of faith that is life. In the span of one’s life, some notes are offered to God with boldness and clarity in double forte. Others barely plucked and therefore barely heard by anyone else, except the Holy One. And to be honest, sometimes all you can do is rest, you sit and listen to someone else offer that familiar, yet right then a seemingly distant, song of praise.

Have you ever had an experience at a meal where you couldn’t get a word in edgewise? Or maybe you didn’t feel like talking even if you could? A work meal where your presence was more important than anything you had to contribute. A lunch with a friend where, after hello, you didn’t say anything until good-bye, but with your presence you were a really good friend? A dinner with the kids where they are suddenly doing all the talking and with your silence you learn all sorts of things they never would have told you, even if you asked?

In all the mystery and power and grace of this communion meal, part of the meaning is your participation is an act of praise and thanksgiving to God in and through Jesus Christ. Yes, you actually only speak a few words in the liturgy, but your presence is an expression of gratitude. Even more, you know every time we gather around this Table there are those who consider their faith feeble, their doubts too many to count, and in terms of carrying any melody of praise and adoration, it’s more like a season of counting measures of rest. But even then, especially then, our presence here is one of praise. “Accept this our sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving” we pray before taking, blessing, breaking, giving, eating, drinking. “Every time you eat this bread and drink this bread, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes”. Those words of the Apostle Paul in the Greek of the New Testament, the you is plural. You (all) proclaim the Lord’s death. It’s a meal for the people of God. A meal for life long praise.

When our children were very young they had a dozen or so extra grandparents. All of their biological grandparents were alive when they were babies, toddlers, early elementary but none of them lived near us. The deep bench of grandparents and great grand-parents came from the congregation I served. The surrogates all lived on the six or eight blocks around the church and we lived in the manse right next to the church. When Cathy was preaching in another congregation on a Sunday morning, the kids would be with a grandparent in worship. It was a grandparent who volunteered to be in the house on Christmas Eve when we both had to lead a late service of candlelight. A walk with the stroller or on training wheels would pass 3, 4, 5 sets of grandparents the kids saw all the time and every Sunday. Grandma Rae had been widowed longer than I was alive at the time and waited tables at the diner for decades. Grandpa Walt was captured at the Battle of the Bulge and lost his son Timmy to car accident at 21. Grandma Elizabeth had quite a set of collectible baby dolls and ran the local hardware and feed store all by herself during the war. Grandma Mame never served iced tea without a knitted cosie for the moisture and lived in her house as a widow longer she lived in it as spouse. Grandpa Mark landed at Normandy on D-Day, and he always brought real, stone arrowheads to the kids that he found on walks through state game lands with his dog Knipper.

I have said many times and in many places that it was the church that taught our children when they were very young, when they were pre-teens, when they were teenagers, how to have a conversations with adults, with folks of all ages. It was the church that taught our kids appropriate social skills with multi-generations of the communion of saints. But more than that, it was the church, that church and this one, that taught my kids about life long praise. They will never know Grandma Rae’s suffering as a young widow and what it was like to raise kids waiting tables. They still have those arrow heads but they will never have any idea what Grandpa Mark must have seen in WWII. But both of them, all of them, showed my kids a longing to trust God Almighty their whole life long. I’ve long since grown weary of people lamenting that this or that congregation is full of so many older people when what ought to be said is “Wow, Can you believe how many older people are in that church?” Life long praise.

One of the expressions of the psalmist in Psalm 71 is “All day long”. “My mouth is filled with your praise and with your glory all day long. (v8)….My mouth will tell of your righteous acts, of your deeds of salvation all day long. (v15)…..All day long my tongue will talk of your righteousness help. (v24). All day long. All day long. In some contexts, that expression connotes an attitude, a bodacious brag, a self confidence. In athletics, for one, someone sinks a basket over the defender and runs back up the court saying: “All day long, all day long”. The next time. For the next forty minutes. Every time we play you from now and kingdom come. All day long. All day long.  It’s not just celebration, not just a boast, they call it trash talk. You better get ready my friend because I am going score on you every time. All day long! All day long!

When it comes to life long praise, “all day long”, it’s not trash talk, it’s kingdom talk. Not just all day, all my life, Lord! It’s a vow, a promise. All day long. It’s a prayer, a plea. All day long. It’s a faith statement. It’s who we were created to be. All day long. All day long. The peace of Christ be with you. All day long. The Lord be with you. All day long. I will trust and not be afraid. All day long. Bless the Lord, O my soul. All day long.

 

Luke 4:14-21
Marcus Lambright
January 27, 2019
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One of my hobbies is learning foreign languages. Although, it may be more accurate to say I’m interested in people in general; language happens to be the tool that helps me better understand those people. I’m a jack of a few trades yet a master of none. I’ve spent time picking up various languages: Spanish, American Sign Language, Japanese, etc. My wife continues to try to teach me French and I pretend to understand like, “Mmm oui, oui; le petit croissant est non-chalant”. I find joy in learning other people’s culture and picking up a new skill. In college I was a German minor, one year I lived in the German house, and coincidentally, my roommate’s name was also Marcus. Despite our obvious differences, our friends referred to us as German Marcus and American Marcus, which was fine. Our German friends helped improve our German and we Americans helped improve their English. Unfortunately, they decided to also teach us several slang terms and curse words which I’m pretty certain weren’t in the curriculum. Our German professor’s eyes probably would have bugged out if he knew what they taught us. Like a toddler imitating an adult in a moment of anger, we were equipped with words we knew but didn’t fully understand. In any language, an interpreter gives meaning and context to the words that we know. The Word of God is no different. In various ways, we experience the Word of God yet often we need an interpreter to understand it, to live into it, and to appreciate it more fully.

I find it interesting how the Word was made available for all people to hear for the benefit of their daily lives. “All the people gathered together into the square before the Water Gate. They told the scribe Ezra to bring the book of the law of Moses, which the Lord had given to Israel. Accordingly, the priest Ezra brought the law before the assembly, both men and women and all who could hear with understanding. Then Ezra blessed the Lord, the great God, and all the people answered, ‘Amen, Amen’, lifting up their hands.” Scholars note that the Water Gate was a public place where all people could gather, including those who were socially outcast. Just like learning a foreign language, you start with hearing the words or immersing yourself in what you hope to understand. The people of Israel had recently returned from exile by the tens of thousands, they rebuilt their home and places of worship, and now they were rededicating themselves to God. For some, they felt like their great misfortunes came about because they hadn’t followed the law of Moses strictly enough. I imagine there are some New Orleans Saints fans pouring ashes on their heads and tearing their sackcloth screaming, “If only the referees had followed the letter of the law more closely, then we would be returning to the promised land!” For the people of Israel, the Word was an indictment on their history and past actions, “for all the people wept when they heard the words of the law.” But Nehemiah, Ezra, and the leaders interpreted it differently. “So they read from the book, from the law of God, with interpretation. They gave the sense, so that the people understood the reading. “Go your way, eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions of them to those for whom nothing is prepared, for this day is holy to our Lord; and do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.’” The Word of God is meant to be received with proper interpretation. There are far too many people whose understanding of Christianity is based on headlines and vocal individuals with misguided understanding. We acknowledge our sinful history without going silent on the holiness of God. It is only right that those with understanding speak up against abuses of the Word. We stand at the water gate; the Word of God is for the benefit of all creation and it is with interpretation that it is better understood.

I think it’s remarkable how Jesus lives into his calling. “Then Jesus, filled with the power of the Spirit, returned to Galilee, and a report about him spread through all the surrounding country. He began to teach in their synagogues and was praised by everyone. 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. ‘Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’” We often overlook the presence and power of the Holy Spirit, as if it were some silent third wheel of the Trinity. But Jesus has done some incredible things when filled with the Spirit. He cast out demons, he was led into the desert to fast and overcome his darkest temptations, and after he resurrected, he gave instructions to his followers to baptize and spread the good news, effectively giving blueprints to building the church. In this passage, Jesus acts as both deliverer of the Word and interpreter of it too. Isaiah wrote these words in the scroll in the first person but Jesus reads it literally. The book of John notes that “in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” God gave us Jesus–the living Word–who acts as interpreter for himself, he explains himself to us so that we may live and speak as he does. Many times, he has to clarify what God meant when scripture was misinterpreted. “You have heard it so but truly I tell you it’s actually this way…” “Moses didn’t provide you bread, God did; I am the living bread come down from heaven.” When learning a new language, early on you can understand more words than you can express. Having someone to help you grow in your development—be it a friend, a teacher, or someone who is a native speaker—goes a long way in internalizing the language and speaking it naturally. Jesus is all three—friend, teacher, and native speaker in the Word of God. He is there full-time to interpret what we receive. Scholars remind us that the scripture Jesus read was fulfilled in their hearing but their hearing did not guarantee their receiving. We hear the Word, let us also accept it in the Spirit of God with joy and wonder.

I think it’s helpful to remember the amazing gifts we have among us and the ways those gifts enrich others. For those who speak in tongues, Paul says no one understands them yet they converse with God, uttering mysteries by the Spirit. He tells the Corinthians to have someone interpret those who speak in tongues, so that the church may be built up. I was baptized in a Presbyterian church in the suburbs of Chicago, I was raised in a Presbyterian church in Dayton OH, but as a teenager, I occasionally went to the church of two of my friends from school. It was a charismatic non-denominational church where the songs were spiritual, the sermons were marathons, and speaking in tongues was commonplace. Among many things I realized a few things in my late teens: 1. I wanted to someday own an electric car 2. I would never be a professional athlete and 3. Speaking in tongues was not my spiritual gift. Several people at that church spoke in tongues with great passion. Although, to the best of my knowledge, no one interpreted what was being said, which was disappointing. I’d like to know what’s being said between them and God! Many of us have gifts whether spiritual (like teaching, prophecy, or the working of miracles) or gifts that are more akin to abilities (like keeping in contact with people who may need prayer, planning and executing events, keeping financials, or feeding people). I wish to interpret the Word I’ve heard and say: your gifts are valued. You are valued. I wish to encourage you to share those gifts so that the Church may be built up.

We’re one month into the New Year and quickly approaching the lunar New Year with a lot of potential of what’s yet to come. We experience the Word of God not only through our apps, devotionals, or in bible study but also in the world. Before Scripture was in print, it lived and moved among us and continues to do so. The Word moves through the news, in prayer with and for others, and when we act for love, justice, reconciliation, and compassion. We’re reminded that the Word was at the beginning and will continue forever. He transcends time, space, and language. He speaks to our hearts. For the rest of this year, may we come to accept him and share the Word. Thanks be to God. Amen.

 

Luke 3:15-22
David A. Davis
January 13, 2019
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When it comes to the baptism of Jesus, Luke does a great job at burying the lead. This is the same gospel that gives us all the detail about Elizabeth and Zechariah and Mary and the Angel Gabriel. Luke is the one who writes of “the decree that went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered”. And ‘that this was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria.” Manger and bands of cloth and shepherds and the heavenly host and “Glory to God in the highest” and Mary treasuring and ponder all these words. You know that’s Luke. Jesus circumcision and his presentation and that old man Simeon and Anna the prophet. When the boy Jesus gets lost and his parents find him in the temple sitting among the teachers. Luke! All of that, all of that detail it is in Luke. When it comes to Jesus baptism, the baptism of Jesus, Luke writes, “Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying….when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying.” A passing nod? A casual mention? No Jordan River. No ‘behold the Lamb of God. No disclaimer from John the Baptist “I need to be baptized by you. No….when Jesus also had been baptized. Meh..

What must be most important for Luke, the emphasis on the syllable, the bold print on the page, is what happens immediately after Jesus baptism. The Holy Spirit descended upon Jesus in bodily form like a dove and the voice from heaven proclaims, “You are my Son, the Beloved, with you I am pleased.” The divine proclamation. The heavenly affirmation. God’s attestation. Jesus, you are my Son, the Beloved. Jesus, you are the Son of God. The Holy Spirit comes down, pours out, rests afresh on him. As one staff member said this week, it’s Jesus’ own Pentecost. A powerful, palpable, acknowledgement of the gift of God’s Holy Spirit. Jesus of Nazareth, the voice from heaven says, “You please me!”

What is unclear is whether anyone else, other than Jesus, heard the voice or saw the dove. The gospel reader is in the know but as for the all of the people who were baptized along with Jesus, baptized before Jesus, the newly baptized who like him, were most likely still there and in prayer, it really doesn’t say if they witnessed that holy kiss from God in heaven. But you can’t read Luke chapter 3 like a news account of the baptism of Jesus. That’s not how the bible works. If your trying to use Luke to take notes, and fill in all the blanks, and cling to every detail, if you want to try to read Luke literally, John the Baptist was in prison at v.20. So who baptized Jesus?

Luke’s reference here to Herod sending John the Baptist to prison isn’t chronology. No, it is to reference is to all the evil Herod had done. On the threshold of the Lord’s baptism and Luke points to all the evil things Herod had done; like ordering the killing of all the children in and around Bethlehem who were under 2, like putting John the Baptist in prison. It’s not about a time line here. It is about Luke’s contrast of John the Baptist proclaiming the good news to the people and Herod the ruler fomenting evil in the land. It is clear distinction between John’s witness to the Messiah, his call to a baptism of repentance and the forgiveness of sins, his exhortation to bear the fruit of generosity, and fairness, and righteousness and Herod’s penchant for evil deeds, his lust for power, and his willingness to incite violence. John the Baptist rebuked Herod the ruler for all the evil things that Herod had one. Herod the ruler was the prince of darkness. The prototype of the underbelly of our humanity. The face of what the Apostle Paul calls in Ephesians, “the cosmic powers of this present darkness.”

Yes, Luke’s emphasis here at the baptism of Jesus is what comes right after; “You are my beloved Son.” But don’t forget to take a look at what comes before, what comes before the baptism of Jesus in Luke’s telling. Of course John’s fiery sermon is what grabs the attention. John and his “brood of vipers” sermon. That’s so John the Baptist. Not much warm and fuzzy when it comes to John. Not warm and fuzzy; more like hellfire and brimstone. John and his “turn or burn” style of preaching. To be fair, when the crowds ask him what to do, he tells them to give two coats to the person who has one, and to give food to the hungry, and to not collect more than you should if you are tax collector, and to not cheat or extort or abuse people of you are a soldier. It’s not all hellfire and brimstone, sinners in the hand of an angry God. He exhorts the crowds to bear the fruit of generosity, and fairness, and righteousness.

He exhorts the crowds. The crowds. The same crowds that came to be baptized. “Now when all of the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying.” It both makes sense and sort of fits with the arc of the Christian tradition. That all would remember that in response to a fiery sermon and the call to discipleship and the exhortation to repentance, that the crowds would all go down to the river to be baptized. Sermon- altar call. Invitation – baptism. A one and a two. Boom. Boom. The splish and the splash.

But then Luke goes and drops Herod in there right before the baptism. Herod and his intrusion of evil. In Luke, Herod disrupts the journey down to the river. If the divine, heavenly, ethereal acclamation that Jesus is the Son of God comes right after his baptism, it is Herod and all the evil things that he had done that comes right before. It is as if for Luke, it was the preaching of John the Baptist that led the crowds down to the river but it was the evil of the ruler Herod that led Jesus into the water. It was the preaching of the good news and the movement of the Holy Spirit and the grace of God that nudged the crowds to baptism. Jesus was there in the water to be baptized by John in response to the living, breathing face of sin and evil.

“Now when all of the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying.” It’s like he is just another face in the crowd. This isn’t Jesus going up a mountain to pray. Jesus seeking solitude away from the garden to pray. The image here is that Jesus is among the crowds just baptized. That Jesus prays right there in the water, or maybe just up on the shore. Jesus prays surrounded by the baptized. Jesus prays amid the crowd. Regardless of whether they heard and saw what was to follow, they all had to see him there praying. Jesus prays right there in crowd. In the casual unfolding of the story, one would think he was praying for himself, giving thanks to God. Maybe like you and I do as we take communion, as we eat the bread and drink the cup. The sacrament and us, praying. But when you read the gospel and then go back again, when you come to know the Jesus of the gospel, when you experience the life, the teaching, the death, and resurrection of this Messiah, the Son of God, when you think about Jesus in that moment there in the river, you know he was praying… for them, for the crowds. Praying amid the crowd, not for himself, but for them. Praying amid the crowd; not for him but for us.

Herod and all the evil things that he had done. Herod the prince of darkness. Herod the prototype of humanity’s sinfulness. With evil mentioned on Luke’s doorstep, Jesus heads down to the river to be baptized and to pray amid the crowd. In response to all the evil things humankind to do, Jesus jumps right into the troubled waters of life with us. Jesus of Nazareth. The Son of God, yet one of us. Jesus the Messiah, the Beloved of God, praying for us. Jesus and his timeless, endless, eternal intercession for us. Christ with us. Christ for us. Even and especially when the darkness is all around. Even and especially when humanity’s sinfulness abounds and is on display. Even and especially when violence never ceases and wars never end and suffering never goes away. Christ with us. Christ for us. Jesus praying for us. Even and especially when hatred and bigotry and antisemitism threaten again and again, Christ with us. Christ for us. Jesus praying for us. Jesus teaching us. Jesus leading us. Jesus guiding us. Jesus and his love. Jesus and his mercy. Jesus and his grace. Jesus and his righteousness. Jesus and his peaceable kingdom. All right here amid the crowd.

We baptized Brady this morning. I should have kept count of how many baptisms I’ve celebrated. But I didn’t. At the going away party thrown by my first congregation, the first baby I baptized, he came forward as a high school young man to show me his little baptism outfit. Later this year I am going to do the wedding for woman I baptized as a baby. That baptism was also in my first congregation, some 27 years ago. Her father was working on the elevator here at Nassau and stopped me in the hallway one day. Dave? Dave Davis? So I didn’t keep count. It’s more like they all run together. That when I hold a child in my arms, or when I look to a toddler in a parents arms, or when I look down at the baptized kneeling before the fount, it’s like they all run together in his wondrous, beautiful, moving collage. The crowds who came to be baptized. It is as if I look into Brady’s face and I see all the faces.

But when God looks into Brady’s face, God sees the face of Jesus. See what love God has given us, that we should be called children of God and that is what we are, who we are. (I John 3). God sees the face of Jesus. That’s how much God loves us. That’s how present Christ is with us. The very Son of God, the Savior of the world, just another face in this crowd of humanity. Jesus amid the crowd, praying for us.

You can’t say it enough. I can’t say it enough. God loves you, and nothing, nothing, nothing can ever change that. Even and especially on your worst day, your longest week, your toughest time, your darkest night, God loves you. Christ is with you.

Jesus and his timeless, endless, eternal intercession for us.

“Now when all of the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying.” Meh? No. More like, yes!

 

Matthew 2:1-12
Lauren J. McFeaters
January 6, 2019
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In some ways it’s not fair for them, to arrive early, on Christmas Eve. The Wise Men travel farther than anyone, so that as they arrive on the scene, like every pageant that ever was, they float down the aisle, walking like brides with that step and a half, step and a half, swathed in vividly embossed robes and carrying in outstretched hands, gifts for the baby Jesus; gifts in glass bottles that had once contained aftershave and perfume.

 

We’ve been awaiting them. The tableau is set. Christmas is complete. Bethlehem can rest. Final pause, long beat, and cut! That’s a wrap!

 

But just when the wise men have been reduced to pointy hats and empty bottles of Old Spice and Chantilly; just when the church is ready to pack up the candles and the Advent Wreath, we receive a final Christmas Card from the Gospel of Matthew.

 

The “Wise Men” have remained beloved and revered on the Christmas stage of congregations around the world. So when we receive Matthew’s Christmas Card, we do not see three mysterious star-gazers, but “Wise Men,” pounding on the door of our church, demanding to see us. This Christmas Card sings out, that rather than being the glittering end of the show; the conclusion to our holy days, they arrive to turn our awe into a staggering joy.

 

So who are these Wise Men? Magi is the Greek word used in Jesus’ time to identify Babylonian and Zoroastrian astrologers. And only in Matthew’s Gospel do these stargazers play a role. We know them as traveling ambassadors, literate political figures, emissaries from the courts of the East. ^[i]

 

But it is oral tradition, and not scripture that has given them the title of Kings. Oral tradition, and not scripture has chosen their number as three. Oral tradition, and not scripture has given them names and kingdoms: Balthasar from Arabia, Caspar from India, and Melchior from Persia.

 

We don’t even know that they were men. Because, come on, you know the joke “Three Wise Women would have asked directions, arrived on time, helped deliver the baby, swept the stable, made a casserole, and brought practical gifts.”

 

Whatever their number or identity, most important to our Gospel lesson is that the Wise Ones are Gentiles. The very first seekers to find Jesus are those outside of the covenant; from countries across the border and outside the Empire. All people will see it together. And his name is Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

 

Yet for all their wisdom, they’re not mind readers. They possess no special knowledge that allows them to travel directly to Bethlehem. And they’re naive. Dealing with stars and charts, their eyes on the world above them, they’ve not understood the likes of Herod.^[ii]

 

In his poem, “Journey of the Magi,” T.S. Eliot paints for us a picture of the Wise Men, very unlike the ones we’ve come to know through our pageants and nativities. Eliot writes this in the voice of a Wise Man:

‘A cold coming we had of it,

Just the worst time of year for a journey,

and such a long journey:

the ways deep and the weather sharp,

The very dead of winter.’

 

All this was a long time ago, I remember,

And I would do it again, but set down,

This set down. This: 

 

Were we led all that way for Birth or Death?

There was Birth, certainly, we had evidence and no doubt.

I had seen birth and death,

But had thought they were different…. ^[iii]

 

I had seen birth and death,

But had thought they were different….

 

Eliot has it right. There is perhaps no other biblical narrative that sets before us both the joys of birth and the terrors of death; the delights of a new hope and the despair of the crucifixion to come.

“Birth or Death? I had seen birth and death

but had thought they were different.”

 

A harsh reality for the Christmas season when what we want most is to surround ourselves with family and friends, to keep our children safe; to keep our loved ones healthy, to keep that crèche up, at least one more week.

 

But there it is. If we pay attention and look closely, there it is. God’s Gifting. Tucked into countess nativities and pageants; right there, laid before us, as the Magi stretch out their gifts, lies the true gift himself: our King, our Priest, our Salvation.

 

And like it or not, Christmas or not, he heads, even now, to Calvary. Due north, up the road, and over the hill.

 

It’s a sobering message, this Epiphany. There’s no respite for the Christian. There never is.

• Always a foretaste of his passion;
• Always his sacrifice for us at the center of our belief;
• Always our recognition that the Christian life is not birthed in sweet gentleness.
• It’s exhilarating and stirring, Yes.
• Sweet and mild, No.

 

And then I look at this table.

And sometimes I don’t know what to say. Because sometimes it’s too much. Too much Taste. Too much Meaning. Too much Goodness. Too much Truth. Too much Love. God’s Gifting spread out before us. The body broken. The blood poured out.

 

But here’s the thing. Here’s the Truth of it; the Taste of it; the Love of it; the Sacrament of it:

In the face of death,

and all the dark nights of our souls.

In the face of any Herod the world can produce; ^[iv]

We belong,

not to ourselves,

but to the Gift.

 

In the face of death,

and all the dark nights of our souls.

In the face of any Herod the world can produce;

We belong,

not to ourselves,

but to the Gift.

 ENDNOTES

[i] The New Oxford Annotated Bible: New Revised Standard Version. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001, 10NT.

[ii] John Indermark. Setting the Christmas Stage: Readings for the Advent Season. Nashville: Upper Room Books, 2001, 68-70.

[iii] T. S. Eliot. The Complete Poems and Plays: 1909-1950. New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, Inc., 1971, 68-69.

[iv] Inspired and adapted from a poem by Ann Weems, “The Christmas Spirit,” in Kneeling in Bethlehem. Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1987, 51.

 

 

Ephesians 1:3-10
Mark Edwards
December 30, 2018
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Congratulations! You have made it through the Christmas season and tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. As we turn from celebrating the birth of Christ, with all the “presents! The ribbons! The wrappings! The tags! And the tinsel! The trimmings! The trappings!”^[1]

We turn to reflecting on what this past year has brought us and what we hope for in the coming months. Tomorrow night we’ll gather to clink in the new year with well wishes and confetti.
If you are like me, your Advent was a wondrous flurry of Christmas blessings with flurry being the key word. It seemed to go by so fast, did you even get time to try that new Juniper Latte from Starbucks? Are you ready for another celebration? Are you ready for another year?

For soon time, “like an ever rolling stream,” will bear us into the weeks of January, a graduation season, air conditioners and summer travel, and even another Advent. Perhaps your ever rolling stream has felt like the “lazy rivers” of the water parks, as you bob along wishing something exciting would happen. Perhaps you feel like your ever rolling stream is frothing whitewater bouncing you off of rocks and pitching you through frightening waves and waterfalls. Perhaps you are too bewildered to be looking at the year ahead and are simply wondering, where did this Christmas go? Where did this year go?

It is a troubling question. I mean, really, where did this past year go? Where does any time go? The hopes and fears of all the years…what happens to them when the years themselves tick away? And the present, it seems so, so, fleeting. It is gone so quickly- We live in it, and yet it is is gone, gone, gone.

And as we stand on the border of a new year, with all our anticipations, whether anxious or optimistic, we may well wonder, what does the future hold? What will time bring us?
The question of time has long intrigued and confounded. For example, St. Augustine, in his book the Confessions, ponders. “What then is time?” , “I know what it is if no one asks me what it is; but if if I want to explain to to someone who has asked me, I find that I do not know.” ^[2]

Perhaps we could leave it at that. Perhaps we should leave it at that. After all, as Isaiah 40 warns us:
Whom did God consult for God’s enlightenment,
Who taught [God] knowledge,
and showed [God] the way of understanding?

Perhaps the mystery of time is just that, a mystery impenetrable to the human mind. Such would seem to the the view of Ecclesiastes. For just following the passage read earlier, that “For everything there is a season, and a time of every matter under heaven,” the Teacher (aka, Qohelet, the Gatherer) suggests that trying to discern the rhythms of time and reasons of “why now?” is pointless and futile; a vanity; a chasing after the wind:
[God] has made everything suitable for its time; moreover [God] has put a sense of past and future into our minds, yet [we] cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. 12 I know that there is nothing better for humans than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live;  moreover, it is God’s gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil.  I know that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it; God has done this, so that all should stand in awe before him.  That which is, already has been; that which is to be, already is; and God seeks out what has gone by.

In Ecclesiastes, “God is in heaven, and you upon Earth” (5:2) and trying to discern the ways in which God is directing time “under the sun” is futile. “We cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.”

But perhaps not? Perhaps time is something that human science and human rationality can decipher? Perhaps comprehending time is the point of human life after all? Inspired by the capacity of the human mind to decode and overcome the material world, the great physicist Stephen Hawking was hopeful that we would someday discover a grand unified theory, a so-called theory of everything. Such a “complete theory,” thought Hawking, should ultimately explain, why there is time, and should, be understandable in broad principle by everyone, not just a few scientists. Then we shall all, philosophers, scientists, and just ordinary people, be able to take part in the discussion of the question of why it is that we and universe exist. If we find the answer to that, it would be the ultimate triumph of human reason—for then we would know the mind of God.^[3]

Hawking thus thought, that if we could decipher the ‘why’ behind the big bang’s eruption of all matter, energy, space, and time, we would understand not only the point of our existence, but the very mind of God itself.

It would seem that in his letter to the church at Ephesus, the apostle Paul unites these two strands of thought. For what has been God’s impenetrable & mysterious plan for this world has been disclosed, such that we do have genuine wisdom- we can find out what God is doing from the beginning to the end:
[God] chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before him in love.  [God] destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace that [God] freely bestowed on us in the Beloved.  In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace  that he lavished on us. With all wisdom and insight  [God] has made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that [has been] set forth in Christ, 10 as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.

According to Ephesians, Christ is God’s eternal plan and purpose for this world. According to Ephesians, our adoption in Christ as daughters and sons of God-is the secret that has now been disclosed. As co-heirs with Christ to all of the glorious riches of God the Father, there is something better than for humans “to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live.” What is better? How about being found “holy and blameless” before God the ultimate judge. Eternally. How about, being chosen for adoption by the Divine King. Even before the world was even created? How about being redeemed from our mistakes by God’s glorious grace alone? Paul thinks that understanding time is understanding the mind of God, for Christ is the fullness of time who discloses the mystery of God’s will for the adoption of all as sons and daughters of the most high. Understanding time is to understand the ‘mind of God’ for time itself is the gift which God gives us in Christ. Indeed time itself is made by God for Christ to come and live within it. Like baskets that need filling with bread, like an ark that needs filling with planet earth, like a jar that needs filling with wine, time is empty until Christ comes to it.

Friends there are many things that claim our allegiance, that profess to be the lords of our time. Clocks, stop-watches, stock-markets, newspapers, careers, social standing, the progress of nations and technologies. Time and time again, these present themselves as the meaning of our existence as they rule our moments and define our total existence. They dictate our schedules. They set the rhythms of our daily life. They fill us with hopes and anxieties for the future. They claim to make sense of the world’s past. Yet none if these is the true Lord of Time. That throne is for Christ alone.

Christ is the Lord of our Time, because in Jesus, God makes time for us. As Karl Barth writes, “Without Him without the fact that He is for me, I should have no time and therefore since I can be only in time, I should not be at all.” But “Because God loves me, without cause or merit, I am now.” (CD 3.2, 530) God is patiently giving us time; again, and again, and again. Christ is the Lord of our Time that we might know the riches of Christ’s reign and the glories of Jesus’ grace, again, and again, and again; ever in new ways, ever in ways that show us the beautiful life and fellowship of the Triune God. For this Triune God too lives in repeated affirmation and confirmation of a covenant of ongoing love. As Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, God is in ‘eternal repetition’ a repetition that ever generates new moments of divine grace and glory. These are shared with us as time, as history. God gives us time out of God’s own eternity that we might know and follow Christ, the one for whom all time is made.

King of Glory, Son of God, Lord of Time. A child, born in a manger. To Mary. Next to goats. This is the event to which and from which all time flows.
So Christ is not just the Lord of our time, he is the Lord of all the past, for since Creation, all time flows toward the incarnation. And Christ is also Lord of the present. For the one who says, “Before Abraham was, I am” is not limited and confined by time to being who he is in only one moment. Rather, Christ can be, and promises to be, present to all moments. Christ makes himself present to all times. In the third sense, Christ is Lord of the future. For all time is granted freedom from sin and death and is free now to meet its true lord and maker. And just as all created time flowed towards the incarnation and crucifixion, all redeemed time flows from the resurrection and toward Christ’s coming. As John describes in his apocalyptic vision of the end of time, recorded in the Book of Revelation the one who is encountered is the one who says: “I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.”

This Lord God is Christ. Christ is the plan of God for the fullness of time, and in Christ, all things whether on heaven or earth, are gathered up in him.

Friends, in this new year, this year of our Lord 2019, may Christ guide your time, comfort your time, heal your time, redeem your time. In this coming year, may you, like the wise men offer your time to the the Christ child. May you return each moment to its proper Lord and may you see how the great weaver of time can thread the strands of your life into the beautiful and redemptive plan that is the goal and purpose for this confused world. May you trust that God will provide what you need, at the right time, just when it is needed the most. And may you not despair. Your time, and the time of the ones you love, the time of those whom the world forgets is not lost. It is not meaningless. For all time is given by Christ. All time is redeemed through Christ. And all time is gathered back into him. Let us, like Mary, treasure these things in our hearts, and seek the presence of the Lord of time again, and again, and again. AMEN.

^[1] Dr. Seuss, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Online text at: http://web.mit.edu/tere/www/text/grinch.txt
^[2] Augustine, The Confessions, trans. by Rex Warner. (New York: Signet Classics, a division of Penguin, 2009), p. 262 (Bk.XI, Ch. 14).
^[3]Stephen W. Hawking, A Brief History of Time (Toronto: Bantam Books, 1988), 185.