Matthew 1:18-25
David A. Davis
December 12, 2021
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We have been creche building this Advent in our shared preaching life. As Sarah Finbow’s artwork on bulletin and banner portrays, creche building not just with nativity characters but with faithful response to the promise of the Christ Child. The simple act of hospitality of an innkeeper. The awe and wonder of the shepherds and “all who heard” what the shepherds had made known regarding what the angel had told them. This morning, we turn to Joseph. Together, we ponder Joseph. As I read to you the well-known, often heard biblical text from the first chapter of the Gospel Matthew, observe this painting from the 17^th century French painter de la Tour. The painting is entitled “The Dream of Joseph.”

“But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in dream…” Resolved to this. As if Joseph’s mind was made up when he fell asleep. But actually, fewer translators and translations imply that Joseph had reached a decision. If I have done my homework correctly, the New Revised Standard Version’s take on “decision made”, “mind made up”, “resolved to do this” is actually a less common translation. “While he thought on these things” (KJV). “As he was thinking about this” (CEB). “After he had considered this” (NIV).  Perhaps the translators or translation committees of scholars who preference Joseph with a mind made up, perhaps they prefer a stronger, less tormented man who has discovered his betrothed was pregnant and he knew he was not the father. Cut and dried. Easy peezy. “Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly.”  Taken care of, just like that. As if life is ever just like that.

Here is Eugene Peterson’s take on Joseph’s decision making and state of mind in his paraphrase “The Message”: ^“The birth of Jesus took place like this. His mother, Mary, was engaged to be married to Joseph. Before they enjoyed their wedding night, Joseph discovered she was pregnant. (It was by the Holy Spirit, but he didn’t know that.) Joseph, chagrined but noble, determined to take care of things quietly so Mary would not be disgraced. While he was trying to figure a way out, he had a dream.”  While he was trying to figure a way out. That just seems more real, more true to the predicament as told in scripture, maybe bit more genuine, less decisive and more honest to the complexity. Not convinced, not resolved, but still trying to figure a way out. Maybe it is just a bit more human. Joseph, still thinking, still pondering, still fretting, still trying to figure a way, is able to finally fall asleep.

That’s when an angel of the Lord appeared to him. In de la Tour’s painting the angel looks like a young woman. Joseph, with his head in his right hand, and a book in his left that appears to be soon falling off his lap, Joseph is far from snug in bed and sound asleep. This Joseph seems to be still pondering as sleep came upon. A more resolved Joseph would likely be tucked in for the night. Joseph with head in hand, it is a sort of universal, timeless pose of a person betwixt and between. It speaks to everyone who has had trouble falling asleep or wakes up way too early because of the worries of the day and torments of the night. It is a portrayal of something far less than restful sleep and something far more like a night that probably every one of us has experienced at some point in the ebb and flow of life.

To be transparent, historians of art point out that there is really no way to know if this “Dream of Joseph” depicts an angel telling Joseph to take Mary as his wife and name the child Jesus or an angel telling Joseph to gather up the family and head to Egypt to avoid Herod’s reign of a terror. Joynel Fernandez, assistant director of a museum in Mumbai, India opts for the angel’s first visit to Joseph. She suggests that the lack of clutter or anything ornate in the room serves to focus the eye only on Joseph, the angel, and the divine light in the room. It is difficult to see much in the painting because things are so dark. But Ms. Fernandez points out that the artist is known for his use of the technique “tenebrism” or the use of light to bring focus in the darkness. Remember Holy Thursday, Maundy Thursday and the Service of Tenebrae. The radiance of the angel and the light coming from the candle, according to the scholar, are symbolic of the divine light. With the angel’s right hand, the light is partially obscured from the observer, making Joseph’s encounter with God all the more intimate. “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”

At the very least, to the untrained eye, it looks like a gentle disruption amid a fitful time of sleep. A portrayal of God’s disruptive light amid Joseph’s fret. God’s disruptive light and humanity’s perpetual yearning to “figure a way out”. “When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as he angel of the Lord commanded him; he took Mary as his wife but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son, and he named him Jesus.”   The angelic disruption might have been gentle, but for Joseph God’s disruption was anything but gentle.

For all the divine mystery that unfolds in the narratives that construct the Nativity, there is something almost ordinary and relatable when it comes to Joseph. The painting seems to affirm that.  A pose, a face, an unsettledness all so familiar. You know that here in Matthew after Joseph brings the family back from Egypt to settle in Nazareth in Galilee, Joseph pretty much disappears from the sacred page. In Luke, Joseph sticks around to be amazed along with Mary at what others were saying about the child and to be astonished when they found the lost child sitting in the temple in Jerusalem sitting among the teachers listening and asking questions. But that’s about it for Joseph. Maybe it is a testament to nothing more than actuarial tables and just what happened when Mary married an older man. Maybe it simply underscores Joseph’s relatively minor role in fatherhood theologically and solidifies the focus on Mary and her unique relationship with God and Immanuel, God with us, the child to whom she gave birth.

But perhaps Joseph’s untold story, unfinished story forces the gospel reader to focus on not much more than Joseph’s life disrupted by God’s plan of salvation.  To linger on his decision, his action, his willingness to have everything in this life upended for the sake of the one who would save his people from their sins. He could have “taken care of things quietly”. That nighttime gentle disruption became a divine, earthshaking disruption because Mary was not the only one to say yes to God. Before the promise disrupted the world, it utterly disrupted the life of Joseph and Mary. With so little to go when it comes to the bible’s description of the rest of Joseph’s life, you and are left to ponder how that brief moment of fitful rest amid the weariness and unexpected complexity of life was forever disrupted by the light of God’s presence and the promise of salvation made known in the Child Jesus, God’s Son, Emmanuel, the one who would save God’s people from their sins. Joseph, Joseph, we barely know you. Joseph and his life disrupted.

Joseph leaves the bible’s stage with so little explored when it comes to his life and faith. So the only lives to explore, really, when it comes to the disruption of God’s light, are yours and mine. The only lives to examine when it comes to the disrupting reality of the gospel of Jesus Christ, are yours and mine. The only lives to ponder when it comes to an intimate encounter with God, God’s disruptive light and our perpetual yearning to figure things out amid the complexity of life and faith, are yours and mine. The only lives to ponder when it comes to the followers of Jesus and to his disruptive grace, are yours and mine.

Everyone one of us has likely had the experience of a family member, a friend, a co-worker, a stranger saying “Hey, I hate to interrupt you.” And then they, of course, proceed to interrupt. That is how it is with the life of discipleship. Except Jesus doesn’t apologize for the disruption. Because an interrupted life, a life disrupted by the teaching of Jesus, a life interrupted, disrupted, changed, transformed for the sake of the gospel of Jesus Christ? Well, that’s called a faithful life. That’s called discipleship. Disruption comes when following the one who saved God’s people from their sins. Jesus, the Savior and the disrupter.

It the lives to ponder when it comes to the followers of Jesus and his disruptive grace are yours and mine, then the lingering question relates to the last time you felt your life disrupted by the call of God, the presence of God, an intimate encounter with the illuminating light of Christ? Because the powers and principalities, the politics of the day, and just our ordinary, sinful, human selves really do prefer, promote, favor, work toward, and aggressively pursue a life uninterrupted, unexamined, unchallenged, unthreatened. And all the while as you and I are directed down that pathway called status quo, all the while the promise, the presence, the light, the love, and the disruptive grace of the Christ Child is saying to you, “Hey, can I interrupt you not just for minute, but for a lifetime, for a lifetime and forever.”

Preparing again to receive the Christ Child in your heart, in your life, there’s going to be some disruption. It’s going to take some disruption in your life and in mine.

Even so, come quickly Lord Jesus. Quickly come!

 

This Sermon references “The Dream of St. Joseph” by Georges de la Tour. More on this piece of art can be found here.

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Luke 2:8-20
David A. Davis
December 5, 2021
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It is easy to forget that the shepherds were terrified. “When the angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, they were terrified.” It is so easy to quickly move on from the shepherds and their fear. Luke’s narrative itself doesn’t linger. So, the reader, the listener, all who know the story by heart, speed right on to the multitude of the heavenly host singing, the shepherds going with haste, and Mary and Joseph, and the babe lying in the manger. Skipping over the fear is understandable, of course, because who doesn’t want to get to babe lying in the manger. Everyone wants to get to the “aaah” part. But there is not just “aaah” when it comes to creche building, there has to be some awe, as in awe and wonder. With the shepherds, comes the awe and wonder of the nativity of the Christ Child. But before there is awe and wonder, it was just out right fear. They were terrified. The King James says it better. Do you remember it? Yes, they were “sore afraid.” So afraid that their heart hurt.

The question then, has to do with the movement from fear to wonder. I have never had an angel speak to me but I thinking the fear doesn’t just miraculously disappear just because an angel tells you “do not be afraid”. Besides, that’s pretty much what the angels say every time. It’s sort of the angels’ way of saying hello. “Hey there, how’s it going? Don’t be afraid!”. It is sort of like the person at your arm with a needle. They all say, “now you’re going to feel a bit of stick”. That doesn’t magically make the feeling of the stick go away. Do not fear. I don’t even think that’s how the body works. It takes a while to recover some being “sore afraid.”

With a close reading of the so familiar verses in Luke, the reader discovers that amazement comes in v.18. “And all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them.”  Now I have to admit to you that I have always thought that “when the shepherds went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger”, that the shepherds were only talking to Mary and Joseph. That Mary and Joseph and the baby were pretty much alone. So it seems like an odd expression: “all who heard it were amazed.”  Who are the “all”. If there were animals in the barn all around, I’m not guessing they were amazed. And I know Jesus was fully human and fully God, but I don’t think the plural here is just to imply the infant was amazed too. “All were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all this words and pondered them in her heart.” So even Mary isn’t included in those who were amazed. She pondered and treasured. It’s “all” kind of confusing, really. What’s with the “all”.

The shepherds must have had their own transformation from fear to wonder at some point before they “they made known what had been told them about this child”.  During Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany we are pairing characters from the nativity scene with pieces of artwork. This piece of art by the contemporary Chinese artist He Qi, might provide a helpful interpretation of the shepherds’ wonder and awe. Dr. Qi has most recently been a visiting professor and artist in residence at Fuller Theological Seminary in CA. As you can see in this painting, the brilliant colors and the shapes themselves communicate wonder and awe. It is difficult to miss the shepherd on the right side who is looking so straight up at the sky that it looks like it hurts. The sheep just below has that same head straight up pose but it’s unclear where the sheep is looking to the heavens or to the shepherd. It is striking that neither the shepherds, nor Mary and Joseph, nor the sheep, for that matter, are looking at the Child Jesus. All eyes, including the baby and the sheep seem focused on the shepherds. The cows are either looking at the baby, or more likely, the hay. Your interpretation is likely influenced by any experience you have had with cows. But I vote for the hay.

The eyes of the shepherds themselves are fixed on the angel who hovers over the entire scene. The depiction of the shepherds does not portray fear but more of intense focus. The only noticeable feature of the angel seems to be the outstretched and lifted up arms. The angel is in a position of proclamation. The shepherds seem to be hanging on every word. “For see- I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger”. Since there is only one angel and not a whole host, the painting sort of pauses on the angel’s words and the good news of great joy. And with Mary, Joseph, and the child looking at the shepherds, it is as if they are hearing the angel’s message right through the shepherds.

It was not the command to not be afraid that calmed the shepherds down. It was the good news of great joy for all people. It was the proclamation of the birth of a Savior, the Messiah, the Lord. It was the promise of a sign. Dr Qi’s painting entitled “Nativity” pauses Luke’s narrative right at the angel’s words. It is as if the painting itself suggests that pondering the good news of a great joy, endlessly pondering the promise of a Savior enables the shepherds to move from fear to wonder and awe. “To you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”

It is an essential when it comes to the life of discipleship: rediscovering the wonder of that good news of a great joy for all people. It is to behold afresh the gift of salvation made known in the Christ Child, our Savior, the Son of God. It is to discover again an unquenchable thirst not just for the words of the angel, but for all the stories of the Child’s life. To yearn again for Jesus’s words, his teaching, his example. To rediscover the wonder of the Nativity, it is to try to wrap your heart around a mother’s unconditional love for a newborn child while wrapping your head around that same child’s unconditional love for you. It is to be overwhelmed anew by his love that will not let you go. His grace that is new every morning, new every morning. It is to find yourself, not all the time, maybe even just every now and then, to find yourself, to allow yourself, to once again be in awe by “the glories of his righteousness and the wonders of his love.”

To rediscover the wonder and awe of the birth of Jesus is to realize that when it comes to that puzzling “all” in Luke, as in “all were amazed at what the shepherds told them”, that “all” includes you and me. The disciples, the followers of Jesus, the church, the Body of Christ, the communion of saints, the great cloud of witnesses, one and all, in amazement at what the shepherds have told us. Amazed by God’s promise of good news of great joy for all people. Amazed and in wonder, not by the beauty of a newborn child, not by the miracle of a virgin birth as attested to in scripture, not by the obedience of both Mary and Joseph, but amazed and in wonder at the promise of salvation made known to us in and through the birth, the life, the teaching, the death, and the resurrection of Jesus, our Savior, God’s Son. And you, know, of course, you know, that you and I are part of that “all”, if we find ourselves include with all those amazed by what the shepherds had to say, then we have to be included in the “they” in the same sentence.  “They made known what had been told them about this child.”  Part of creche building, part of rediscovering the wonder of it all, is telling, testifying, giving witness with your life, giving witness to “the good news of great joy for all the people.”

Just last Monday I was invited to participate in a panel discussion over at Princeton Seminary on preaching the Old Testament during the last week of the introduction to the Old Testament class required of all first-year students. I have done the panel many times over the years. I remember once quite a few years ago after the panel, a student stopped to ask a follow up question. “Pastor, why do we hear so much preaching now a days that is all about grace and love, so warm and fuzzy. What ever happened to hellfire and brimstone and judgment?” I joked with him that when you preach most weeks you don’t hear a whole lot of what others are preaching so I couldn’t really attest to his point. But I knew he his question was genuine and he was looking for a response.  “I guess it has to do with the preacher’s own theological perspective which is broader than any one sermon. It has to do with the preacher’s own understanding of God and relationship to God. I don’t believe God is to be feared.” I told him, “When I preach, I am called to give testimony to the God who loves me.”  I am guessing the student wanted a deeper, longer theological argument, a longer answer than my own discovery and rediscovering of the wonder of God’s love. The awe and wonder of the God who so loves me and you and this world that God gave of God’s only begotten Son. The awe and wonder of good news of a great joy for all people.

It’s not a bad prayer for Advent, really. Holy God, this Advent, this Christmas, in the power of your Holy Spirit and as gift of your grace, may the Christ Child once again enable me, allow me, empower me to rediscover the wonder of your love.

Even so, come Lord Jesus. Quickly come.

 

*This sermon references Nativity by He Qi. An image of this work can be found here.

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Luke 2:1-7
David A. Davis
November 28, 2021
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“Because there was no room for them in the inn.”  That’s all it says. “And 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.”  So little said about the location, the actual birthplace of the infant Jesus. So little said about the inn that was full and the manger where Mary laid him. And yet everyone of us knows that the family was surrounded by animals. Everyone of us knows Joseph stopped in place after place trying to find a place for Mary to deliver her child. Everyone of us knows there was an innkeeper. There always was an innkeeper. There has to be an innkeeper, right? Maybe the most talked about character, or better said, the most portrayed biblical character that wasn’t. The innkeeper. It is because of the absolute tyranny of the Christmas pageant. Not this Christmas pageant or that Christmas pageant. Just the Christmas Pageant.

Each Sunday in Advent this year we will be taking a look at the biblical characters of the nativity: the shepherds, Joseph, Mary, Jesus on Christmas Eve, and the magi on the Sunday closest to Epiphany. As a solo pastor back in the day, I spent many Advent Times with the Children “building the creche”. Each year I would borrow a creche from a family in the church and then each Sunday I would introduce a new character to the nativity scene in the chancel during Time with the Children. So, this year we are building the creche homiletically. And as you will see in the cover art by our own Sarah Finbow entitled “Creche Building”, it takes more than the characters to build the creche. It is an act of faith. It takes acts of faith. It takes faith action.

Inspired by Jason Oosting’s virtual adult education series last year on “the Art of Advent”, we are pairing each sermon in Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany with a piece of artwork. I invited the staff to join the search. I wrote to Jason and he gave me great suggestions for art that might give inspiration to the character exploration. It has been an intriguing addition to sermon preparation. The search for a diversity of artists, time periods, styles. Of course, there aren’t all that many characters, even with the imaginary innkeeper thrown in. So there are limitations when it comes to choosing out from the abundance of art that portrays the Nativity.

It probably won’t come as a surprise that the most challenging search for a Nativity character on canvas was the innkeeper. After all, the search has been for art of the Nativity not art of the Christmas Pageant. And according to Luke, the closest we come in scripture is “because there was no place for them in the inn.” This portrayal of the Nativity is by the German artist Konrad von Soest. It is part of an altarpiece and he created it in the year 1403. The baby Jesus is not in the manger but nestled into Mary’s neck. Joseph is kneeling down tending to a fire and preparing some food. Joseph looks much older than Mary. Behind Mary in the stable to the left of the animals it seems there is an angel or two who remain in the faint background. Then there are the two animals who are eating and clearly pleased the baby is no longer blocking the way to their food. And to the right, much less prominent than the animals and holding a rope that appears to be attached to one them, maybe, just maybe, that’s an innkeeper who is either looking to the sky with arm in the air tracking the departing heavenly host or it’s a hand going to the head as the innkeeper wonders what on earth is going on and “what have I gotten myself into”.  At the very least, the innkeeper/farmer is pretty much penned in more than the animals and falling off the edge of this Nativity.

“And 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.”  But at some point, maybe not in the imagination of artists, but certainly in the church’s traditions and remembering, at some point an innkeeper is created. It could have been as simple as the person who volunteered to direct the pageant in First Church Anywhere, Any-time deciding that every other child just couldn’t be an angel or an animal. Or maybe the first pageants were really put on by adults and they refused to make animal noises. So an innkeeper was born.

Or perhaps, somewhere, somehow in the collective remembering of the people of God, that sacred telling of the birth of the Messiah, perhaps the role of the innkeeper became an affirmation that humanity’s first response to God’s gift of salvation, to the Word of God incarnate, to the love, mercy, and grace of God made known in the birth of the Child Jesus, humanity’s first response was a silent, unseen act of hospitality, a simple act of kindness, an anonymous gesture of mercy. That before the shepherds were completely blown away by the divine announcement from on high and before the magi were captivated by a heavenly sign, someone said, “you can stay here”. That long before the collective shout of humanity’s sin was “Crucify him! Crucify him!”, the last word the child heard in his mother’s womb was someone saying “you’re welcome here”.

Yes, of course, the Nativity, it all started with the voice of God speaking through the angel Gabriel. The first move belonged to God. The angel speaking to Zechariah. The angel speaking to Mary. The angel speaking to Joseph. Yes, God and the angels and Zechariah and Elizabeth and Mary and Joseph. That’s where it all starts. Somewhere along the way, just before the child was born, someone saw the exhausted woman great with child, a frantic father to be, someone saw two wanderers from another place in crisis, two strangers desperately in need of help, someone saw them, and whether Joseph knocked, or Joseph asked, or Mary just sighed loud enough for someone to hear, someone said, “here, let me help you”

For the prophet Isaiah, preparing the way for the Lord was an earth shaking, world turning upside down, kingdom coming kind of blast. “Make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up and every mountain and hill made low, the uneven ground shall become level and the rough places plain. Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed.” (Isaiah 40:4-5) For John the Baptist, preparing the way of the Lord came by baptism, confession, repentance.  “Bear fruit worthy of repentance” (Matthew 3:8) John proclaimed. But when it came to the Mary, Joseph, and the Child Jesus, preparing the way of the Lord came with someone showing compassion, someone who remembered the prophet Micah: “love kindness” ,  someone foreshadowing what Jesus said after telling the parable of the Good Samaritan: “Go and do likewise”, someone who said, “oh my, my, my, you need some rest. Come with me”

A silent, unseen act of hospitality, a simple act of kindness, an anonymous gesture of mercy. It doesn’t have to be all that complicated does it. For heaven’s sake, there is enough complication and complexity and challenge and just really hard stuff when it comes to your life and mine these days. Too many things near and far, too much in the world and too much close to home, such a cacophony of noise to fill your head and a swirl of life to knot your stomach. So this morning, with the innkeeper, comes the gift of simplicity. Receiving the Christ Child in your heart, in your life, in the world, it begins with kindness, mercy, and compassion. Maybe that’s why the role of the Innkeeper started. So that when it comes to the Nativity of Jesus in the world, everyone of us could have a part to play.

How about a hand for the inn keeper? How about a word for the inn keeper? Yes, the inn keeper is no where to be found in scripture. Yes, the inn keeper is hard to find in the most famous and classic artistic renderings of the Nativity. But someone had to have said, someone must of said to Mary, and Joseph, and the child to be named Jesus, someone said “please, stay here”. Someone said, “you can rest here”. Someone said, “I can help you”.  Someone look upon that holy family and having no idea who they were, where they were from, or what would happen, someone showed them mercy. Someone beyond that holy family. It was humankind’s first response to God’s wondrous gift of love made known in the Baby Jesus.

Whoever it was, we should never forget that it all started, the Nativity all started with the smallest act of kindness. Pray that we never forget what she did, what he did, what they did.

Come Lord Jesus. Quickly come.

And as for us, as for you and me. Let’s be Innkeepers. Innkeepers one and all!

 

 

*This sermon references Nativity 1403 by Konrad von Soest. An image of this work can be found here.

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Revelation 7:9-17
David A. Davis
November 21, 2021
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A long time ago I was sitting in a coffee shop here in town talking to a visiting scholar who was here for a year either at Princeton Seminary or the Center of Theological Inquiry. I can’t remember which. The professor was joining us for worship each Sunday so I was looking to offer a pastoral welcome of sorts. What I didn’t expect was a conversation that changed how I thought about preaching resurrection hope. Our casual get acquainted conversation turned challenging and intriguing for me as I listened to the scholar’s stinging critique of the church’s proclamation on Easter and at most funerals. The gist of the argument was that preaching resurrection should not sound like the content of a greeting card. Examples given ranged from preaching that denies the reality of death to sermons full of kitschy illustrations that promote the concept of immortality of the soul. Something along the lines of “he is not dead, he’s just gone to the other side of the lake to fish” is what comes to mind. I think about that conversation while writing most funeral homilies and every time Easter rolls around. This week I thought about it while working with this text from the 7^th chapter of the Book of Revelation. And every time that scene in the coffee shop comes back to me, the professor’s concluding remark both inspires and haunts me a bit in my sermon writing: “resurrection hope has to be more than whether you and I get to heaven!”

It has to be more. That’s sort of my takeaway from John the Revelator’s vision of the great multitude that no one could count and he couldn’t name. The great multitude and the Lamb at the center of the throne. It is a word picture of a life forever with God that is something more, something greater, something beyond the collective sacred imagination of the people of God. And I think one can say that about the whole witness of scripture, that when it comes to the kingdom of heaven, it points to something more than this person or that person going to heaven. “I saw a new heaven and a new earth for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy the city, the new Jerusalem, coming out of heaven from God…God will dwell with them and they will be God’s peoples, and God will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death shall be no more, mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away” (Revelation 21). “They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit. They shall not build and another inhabit; they shall not plant and another one eat, for like the days of the tree shall my people be…the wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox, but the serpent—its food be dust! And they shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain” (Isaiah 66).  Matthew 25: the hungry fed, the thirsty given something to drink, the stranger welcomed, the naked clothed, the sick and imprisoned visited.  When it comes to scripture and the kingdom of God, you can always point to more. It is always more. It is always greater.

In his work with the Book of Revelation, Brian Blount, president of Union Presbyterian Seminary in Richmond, former New Testament professor at Princeton Seminary and worshipping member of Witherspoon Street Church, urges the reader not to miss the image of the city. A holy city full of a great multitude. Full of God’s presence. God’s dwelling place. Full of God’s glory. Full of God’s light. Professor Blount offers the compelling description that God’s glory shrouds the city like a fog. God is completely on the loose among God’s people. The nice promise that “the lord will be their light” doesn’t really begin to describe it. It’s not just a light, there is no more sun, no more night, only God’s glory. God’s presence in the heavenly city, it is the promise of “Immanuel” God with us, on steroids. God with us to the nth degree. The promise of God with us followed by a million exclamation points. God on the loose among us forever and ever and ever!

The power and wonder of a confusing, mysterious book of the bible like the Apocalypse to John is that it is not to be understood; rather it is to be felt somewhere deep in the soul. It is a proclamation of the resurrection promise of God that is to be felt. That in a world so full of chaos, suffering, death, and empire-ly power run amuck, that the beautiful city of God will not  only come down from heaven, it will rise again. The promise that even in a time when the mountains totter and the nations rage and evil carries the day and rules the night, that the peaceable kingdom of God will ultimately prevail and that in God’s future the wolf shall live with the lamb, and they will not hurt or destroy in all of God’s holy city. God’s promise that when the powers of darkness rise up again and again, and the rich just get richer, and the sinfulness of self-interest seems to win all the time, and assault victims are demonized by the most powerful in the land, and the sick hunger for guns and gun rights is fed by millions and millions of dollars while 1 in 4 children in this country live in poverty, then, even then, right then you have to feel God’s resurrection promise that the darkness shall never conquer the light, that hate will never conquer love, that death shall never have the last word.

Because one day, one day, justice will roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream…because one day, one day, as the psalmist says, steadfast love and faithfulness will meet, and righteousness and peace will kiss each other…because one day all the hungry will be fed, all the thirsty will have drink, all the strangers will be welcomed, all the naked will be clothed, all the sick will be cared for, all the prisoners will be visited, and the lame shall walk, the oppressed set free, and poor lifted up. One day. Because that’s God’s future and it is a promise that is always more. You have to feel promise. That God’s future is the world’s future. It is the city’s future. It is our future.

God’s beauty and the kingdom of heaven. Beyond scripture. Beyond words. Because when it comes to what you and I can fathom or believe or imagine, the resurrection promise of God in Jesus Christ will always be more. Yes, death not having the last word and light forever conquering the darkness. But also love overcoming hate. Love that is stronger than death. Bodies. Minds, Souls restored. Little girls and little boys of every color, of every race, of every nation joining hands as siblings one with another. Schools. Mosques. Synagogues. Campuses. Homes. All safe from violence. No more guns. No active shooter. No high school, no college hero giving a life to save others at the end of gun. No one grabbing a gun and traveling to join a protest and take justice into their own hands. No more guns. No one grabbing a gun and jumping into a truck to hunt down a person of color running through the neighborhood. No more guns. No child randomly killed by a gun in the cross fire that plagues the nation’s cities. No more guns. No raging floods, only living water.  No climate change-induced storms, only streams of righteousness. No more words like Stage IV or metastatic. No more bigotry and hatred or someone whose equality or marriage or job is threatened because of their love for another.  No one unjustly convicted. No enemies, no threat level, no terror. No surge. No pandemic. No sickness. No death. No fear. Only lasting peace and unbridled joy and feasts and sonatas that last forever and glorious views of creation. Only beauty there in the heart of God.

When you become a grandparent, it seems that everyone asks you what it’s like. The question doesn’t come with the connotation of “how is it knowing your now so old you can be a grandparent.” The question comes just as often, maybe more often, from other grandparents who I think just enjoy listing to someone else try to describe what it is like. This is my answer that I have given more often than I can count: as someone who makes a living with words, there really are no words that can describe the overwhelming joy and love that comes with becoming a grandparent. Words are not enough.

Despite the fact that I have now used 1,436 words, words will never be enough when it comes to God’s promise of resurrection hope and life. The promise of a glad reunion gathered around the Lamb of God. A multitude which no one can number. Words aren’t enough. The promise of God is always going to be more.  That’s why Noel Werner’s adult education class this morning is titled “The Sound of Reunion”.  Maybe a series? The sound of reunion. The smell of reunion. The touch of reunion. The feel of God’s great reunion promise forever in the kingdom of heaven.

Experienced sermon listeners will remember hearing a lot about “the already and the not yet” when it comes to the promise of God. The affirmation of all that God has done and of God’s faithful presence in our lives and the longing for what is yet to come in the wonder and mystery of God’s promise of salvation for all that God has created. Much of what a preacher is called to do is to enable you week in and week out to affirm, experience, and testify to God at work in and through your lives. As one teacher of preaching puts it, to empower people to see the extraordinary grace of God in the ordinary places of life. The “already” part of God’s promise.

But I have to be honest with you, these days when I look around at the world and the nation, when I read the news and think of my granddaughter’s future, when I wake up too early in the morning and ponder another day,  I find myself longing for more of the “not yet” part. I don’t mean “not yet” in the eternal sense. I don’t mean the “not yet” of when the roll is called up yonder.  But I do mean the “not yet” part of God’s resurrection promise and hope for us and for all of creation. A bit more of a foretaste of glory divine. More of that promise you can feel. You can sometimes feel it even more than you believe it. More of that promise. Just a little more of what God intends.

Is it to much ask, God? For a little more of the world you intend? A bit more of the “not yet” here and now? Because I know, I know it deep down and can feel it. There is always more when it comes to the promise of God made known in and through Jesus Christ. There is always more when it comes to your life, and my life, and all of creation now and forever in the very heart of God.

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Matthew 12:46-49
David A. Davis
November 14, 2021
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Jesus was speaking to the crowds. He had been teaching and healing all around Capernaum, that fishing village on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. He was on a roll and had his listeners in the palm of his hand, The crowd was a mix of disciples, followers, interested bystanders, scribes, and Pharisees. They had seen him heal the man with the withered hand on the sabbath. They were listening as Jesus kept saying a lot that was just hard to understand. “No city or house divided against itself will stand…Whoever is not with me is against me and whoever does not gather with me scatters…whoever speaks against the Son of Man will be forgiven, but whoever speaks against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven either in this age or in the age to come…For just as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the sea monster, so for three days and three nights the Son of Man will be in the heart of the earth.”

While he was still speaking his mother and brothers were standing outside. They had come all the way from Nazareth to see their brother, her son. It had been too long. When someone told Jesus that his family was at the door, he replied “Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?” And he reached out his arms toward the disciples, the twelve, the ones he had called and invited to follow him. “Here are my mother and my brothers! For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.”

Jesus stopped speaking and allowed the dramatic silence to hang in the room. Without saying another word, he turned and headed for the door. The people who had been all crammed in close so they could listen, amid the silence, they parted like the Red Sea as Jesus took the steps toward the door. And before he could make it outside, his mother Mary, ran through the entryway and threw her arms around him, kissed his neck, and they both wept. The brothers were right behind her and joined in the group hug. Even in the silence no one could hear what Mary whispered to her son, but some probably could guess. Mary said, “I am so worried about you”. And as the silence in the crowds lingered, that moment of embrace, that moment of emotion, that moment of reunion, the family members weren’t the only ones in tears.

Well, at least that’s how these reunion stories are supposed to work in the bible. You can’t blame a preacher for trying; for trying to make a bit of sense out of a tough passage. Of course, I wasn’t just trying to make sense, I was just making stuff up. The gospel gives no such nod to an imaginative, rosy conclusion to the scene. No, Matthew pretty much leaves Jesus’ mother and brothers out on the front stoop. It’s not just a stop at “Whoever does the will of my father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.” It’s a hard stop. The narrative moves on. Most editors of translations put a break on the page. The bible does not allow for a rosy denouement.

This rather unexamined and not often preached text from Matthew is repeated both in Mark and Luke. In all three gospels it is an equally straightforward, almost unadorned text. In all three gospels the account ends abruptly with that hard stop. In Luke, the story comes in the middle of a chapter rather than at the end but the editors still put in that extra space afterward and the narrative shifts.  Mark gives a bit of context earlier in the chapter before the puzzling exchange. Mark writes that Jesus’ family ‘went out to restrain him, for people we resaying ‘he has gone out of his mind.’”  Yikes! In Luke Jesus’ last words have a bit of finer point: “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it.” Just do it. Snap, Jesus!

A very good friend and colleague of mine in ministry retired early on in the pandemic. Together with a few other clergy friends we have been in a prayer group for more then thirty years. In that group Bill had so many memorable sayings and responses we took to calling them “Bill-isms”. Some of them I could not repeat here but one particular expression of Bill’s seems appropriate to this morning’s topic. Bill was known to say and knowing him he probably said this in a sermon or two in front of God and everybody. “Families, hum, maybe not God’s best idea!!” It is certainly possible that Matthew, Mark, and Luke all include this reunion that wasn’t to make us all feel a bit better about our own complicated families. Part of the wonder of the biblical witness and its portrayal of the people of God is how utterly unvarnished it is when it comes to the feeble crew of broken vessels. How utterly unvarnished they…we all are. You. Me. Family.

As I once again read this week of Jesus’ reply to the person who told him his mother and brothers were waiting at the door, Jesus and “Who is my mother?”,  I remembered the children’s book that we used to read to our children. The book is titled “Are you my mother?” It’s a story about a newborn baby bird whose mother goes off to get some food just before the baby breaks out of the egg. The baby bird then goes off trying to find its mother. The bird goes around asking everyone and everything “Are you my mother?” The bird asks animal after animal and then a car, a boat, and plane. Finally, a front steam shovel comes long and the bird know that’s not its mother but the shovel picks up the bird and puts it back in the nest for yes, a reunion of biblical proportions. I read the children’s book again this week, and maybe because I am grandfather now, I said to myself, “this is horrifying! Why did I ever read it to my children?” The whole premise, the fretful newborn bird searching and searching for its mother, it’s a whole lot more unsettling to me now that I stop and think about it.

And to be honest, the more I think about Jesus and “Who is my mother and who are my brothers? the more unsettling it is. It’s not horrifying but it is unsettling. A bit confusing, and even disappointing if you’re in Mary’s shoes. My own understanding of the passage has always hovered around how the primary unit of life together for Jesus is the disciples, those who know themselves to be his followers, the body of Christ. The group referred to in the Book of Acts as the people of the Way. Not just Jesus but the witness of scripture. The Apostle Paul’s “Love is patient, love is kind…” was not intended for marriage it was intended for the community. But when you read Matthew 12:46-50 amid a preaching series entitled “Biblical Stories of Reunion and Restoration”, you can’t ignore the lack of an ending full of embrace here. In Matthew, Jesus family has not been mentioned since they returned from Egypt  in chapter two. Mary the mother of Jesus doesn’t come back until she stands at the foot of the cross at the end of John’s gospel. So yes, “Here are my mother and my brothers! For whoever does the will of my father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother… those who hear the word of God and do it”, its unsettling and just seems so unlike the Jesus I cuddle up to in my prayers.

Yes, the twelfth chapter of Matthew is full of teaching from Jesus that is hard to understand: sabbath law, demons, exorcists, the so-called unforgivable sin, Beelzebub, judgement, passion prediction, and a wisdom Jesus describes as “something greater than Solomon.” It is just a hard chapter and with “the reunion that wasn’t” exclamation point at the end, my takeaway is that its not just the teaching of Jesus that is hard. The gospel itself is hard. To hear the Word of God and do it. To live and work for the world as God intends and Jesus envisions. To do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God. To be a servant of all. To love your neighbor as yourself. To serve God and not mammon. To love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your mind, and with all your soul. To take up your cross and follow Jesus. “Who is my mother? Who are my brothers”.  It is an unsettling exchange there in front of the crowd and in front of the church and in front of you and me. An unsettling exchange that screams off the page a reminder that this living life as a disciple was never intended to be all that easy.

A text came in this week from a pastor a whole lot younger than me. A former student who was ordained just before the pandemic began. The text thread started this way “The rule of death coming in threes is out the window. We at seven and counting.” To which I responded, “in a week?” “No, in a month and half that feels like just about a week in COVID time.” The thread went on. Then I read “this job is not for the faint of heart.” “Nope” I texted back, “but I don’t’ think I ever told you it was.”

You and I have been claimed, immersed, surrounded by a gospel defined by the grace, the mercy and love of God made known in Jesus Christ. We are recipients of an unwavering, unfaltering, never-failing gift of salvation in and through Jesus Christ. We are heirs to the very promise of God, a promise of abundant and eternal life. You and I, we know that nothing, absolutely nothing can separate us from the love of God made known to us in Jesus Christ. For Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen!

And with “Here are my mother and my brothers! For whoever does the will of my father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother… those who hear the word of God and do it”.  With that once and always unsettling response from Jesus, it must be Jesus letting you and me know that it all, this all, this life of faith, this walk with Christ, this call to discipleship, it won’t all be easy. It’s can’t all be easy. Jesus never said it would be easy.

It’s not terrifying but it is unsettling because I know it won’t be too long before I again say to Jesus in prayer, “Why does it have to be this hard?”  And he’s going to say, “Did I ever tell you it would be easy?

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Luke 15: 1-3, 11-32 [i]
Lauren J. McFeaters
November 7, 2021
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If we were to put our collective reflections of this parable, all together, in a big pot and stir, we could come up with 10,000 sermons. It’s as well known as The Good Samaritan and has been told from every perspective under the sun.

There are sermons, poems, films, operas, art created from the standpoint of every single character: the father, the older brother, the younger brother, the servants, the farmer from the far-off country.

There have been sermons from the viewpoint of the Pharisees, the musicians at the banquet, the ring, sandals, and robe, and my personal favorite, a sermon from the perspective of the pigs. From whatever direction we experience this scripture, we all know that a lost life tells a story: A young man runs from home. A young man loses his life. A young man crawls back home. A young man is saved.

To understand this young man, we first need to consider that the parable, is placed within a conversation, between Jesus and his critics, who are disgusted with whom Jesus has chosen to dine. He is accused of eating with scoundrels, reprobates, degenerates.

And as we are all taught growing up, your character is demonstrated by the company you keep. Jesus, obviously was hanging out with the “wrong” kind of people, and those in authority are scandalized. In telling the parable of the Prodigal, Jesus turns the conversation about dinner guests on its head.

The company Jesus keeps at meals doesn’t speak of his character, he says, but to the transformation a meal has with those who are lost. In the telling, Jesus also knows who’s hungry: hungry for power, for control; hungry for regulations, for justice; hungry to punish; hungry  for compassion.

I think, for Jesus, the problem with his detractors is that they’re starving to death. They’re so focused on being right, that they’re starving from being wrong. Like any of us who act as critics, so intent on being correct, we burn our bridges, and are starved for connection. The problem as Jesus sees it, is starvation.

And if the problem is starvation. The solution is sustenance.

The sustenance of grace. This story has always been one of grace.

The picture Jesus paints and the story he tells is of three men who are starving to death.

A young man is starving for something at home. He’s impetuous, careless, empty, demanding. His soul is vacant that he runs off to fill himself with carousing, using, depravity. Still ravenous he throws himself into debauchery of every kind. Nothing fills him up. And then as he physically starves in the midst of a famine, while sitting in a pig sty, he somehow finds a way to call out to heaven,

‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread

enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger!

I will get up. I will go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son;

treat me like one of your hired hands.”’

 

There’s a father who feels like dying because he may never see his son again. Inside he is starving for a word of news, beating himself up after having given his son the means to disappear. This father is ravenous for a piece of gossip from the city. Who has seen my son? Have you seen my son?  He is so famished for a scrap of hope; he waits each day at the hilltop near the field, so as to catch a glimpse of his boy.

The older brother starved for attention. Furious that all responsibility has been left to him. He’s aching and sweat-stained after a day in the fields, longing for a shower, a meal, a bed. Craving time with friends, a song, a dance, a robe, ring, and fatted calf. So embittered and disillusioned that nothing seems to matter anymore. He is empty, in need of consideration and regard; famished for an  embrace and justice, tenderness and ease. [ii]

When the critics are upset that Jesus is eating with the wrong kind of people, Jesus takes them to a story that, rather than mirroring their miserliness, feeds the soul. He sets a banquet table before them. A banquet that dispels the hunger. A banquet that welcomes the cast-outs and the cast-ins; those who are shamed and those who haven’t a clue what shame feels like. Jesus welcomes the slovenly and the couture.

It’s a wide open table that feeds, sustains, nourishes, and fills up. A banquet table of Reunion & Restoration; of Relationship & Reconciliation. A table where the lost are found and there’s room for everyone. ^[iii] A table of repentance and forgiveness.

And Jesus offers a table of forgiveness and the experience of repentance – a turning around, a change in perspective, bringing us full circle, of being lost and turning around and be found.^[iv]

Unlike the English word repentance, which implies contrition and remorse, the Greek word metanoia has to do with a change of mind and purpose – a shift in how we perceive and respond to life.^[v]

And here’s the miracle, when we come to our senses and turn toward home, God is there to grant us an identity beyond what we have done, are doing, or may someday do. God is there to cleanse us and wash us; to feed and nourish. God is there to tuck us under her wing, and to heal any kind of behavior – whether it’s as prodigals, scoundrels, reprobates, or degenerates.

The church of Jesus Christ is the place to bring our hunger, our lost-ness, our dreams and disappointments, confident that when we turn toward God, the doors are thrown open to the dance floor, the music begins, the banquet is served.

In the end, our parable isn’t about sin or righteousness, and not even about being lost and found….

It’s about a God,

so crazy in love with us

that God will do anything to find us.^[vi]

 

There’s a God so crazy in love with you,

that God will do anything to find you.

 

And then God feeds us. Here.

Prodigals, scoundrels, reprobates, degenerates all.

The hunger.

It is over.

And the new life?

The new life has begun.

 

ENDNOTES

[i] Luke 15: 1-3, 11-32 (NRSV) Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” So he told them this parable…“There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.’ So he divided his property between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. But when he came to himself he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.”’ So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. Then the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate. “Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.’ Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. But he answered his father, ‘Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’ Then the father said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’”

 

[ii] Debie Thomas. “Letters to Prodigals.” February 28, 2016, journeywithjesus.net.

 

[iii] Robert Cornwall. “Welcome Home: Luke 15:1-3, 11-32.” March 1, 2016. bobcornwall.com.

 

[iv] David Lose. “Lost,” Luke 15:1-10. Luther Seminary, St. Paul, MN, September 9, 2013, workingpreacher.org.

[v] Lois Malcolm. Luke 15:1-10. Luther Seminary, St. Paul, MN, September 15, 2013,  workingpreacher.org.

[vi] David Lose.

 

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Nehemiah 8:1-12
David A. Davis
October 31, 2021
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 Today, October 31, according to our theological tradition, in the year 1517 Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door at All Saints Church in Wittenberg. Accordingly, October 31^st is Reformation Day. So in celebration and acknowledgment, Noel Werner picked a Martin Luther hymn to begin worship this morning. The choice of this second scripture lesson, however, was not motivated by Reformation Sunday. We are continuing our adult education/small group/ preaching series on biblical stories of reunion and restoration. The text from Nehemiah I am about to read to you is simply next in line. But, as happens more often than not for preacher and congregation Sunday in and Sunday out when they come together and bring the world, church life, family life, and even the calendar to bear on a particular biblical text, Holy Spirit happens. As it turns out, Nehemiah chapter 8 has everything to do with the theology birthed in the Reformation.

I did the best I could with the list of names; both lists of names. You can be sure I did not get them all, or maybe even most, correct. But I had to try. You have to keep the names. You have to figure the two lists of names are there for a reason. The second group, the names identified as Levites, they are listed as those who “helped the people to understand the law.” But the reason or purpose of those in the first list; those who stood to Ezra’s right and left as Ezra opened the book, why that list is here is unclear. Maybe they were there to help with the book. But that’s a lot of helpers. Maybe they were there as representatives of each of the family groups that were there, heads of households so to speak. A sign of the patriarchal cultural and religious norms. Maybe they were selected and appointed witnesses to the reading of the law of God. Some form of ritual/liturgical responsibility. Or maybe the list is there simply to underscore and highlight how people driven this Water Gate event really was.

The people are everywhere throughout this scene. All the people were gathered together in the square before the Water Gate. The people told Ezra to bring the book of the law of Moses. Ezra brought the law before the assembly, before the people, both women and men. As Ezra read from early morning until midday, the ears of all the people were attentive to the book of the law.  Ezra opened the book in the sight of all the people. He was standing on the platform above all the people. When he opened the book, all the people stood up. After Ezra offers a blessing to the Lord, the great God, all the people answered “Amen, Amen”. They all bowed their heads and worshiped the Lord with their faces to the ground.

The named Levites helped the people to understand, while the people remained in their places. They gave the sense, so that the people understood. Ezra and the Levites who taught the people said to all the people, “this day is holy to the Lord your God, do not mourn or weep.’ They said that because all the people wept when they heard the words of the law. The Levites stilled all the people telling them this day is holy. And all the people went their way to eat and drink and share portions those who had none. They went to make great rejoicing because they, all the people, the people had understood the words that were declared to them. To the people!

You have to keep the lists. You have to read the lists. You have to take note of all the people because the Water Gate is about all the people and the Torah. All the people and the word of God.

These last few weeks we spent quite a bit of sermon time filling in the story of Jacob and Esau, of Benjamin and his brothers. This morning, I offer the concise summary of Professor Jim Vanderkam from the series study guide. “After being exiled in Babylon, the Jewish people finally return to Jerusalem to find their beloved city and temple in ruins. Nehemiah begins rebuilding the city walls while the priest Ezra seeks to rededicate the temple. Both of these leaders were convinced that the national disasters of the past were caused by disobedience to the law and feared their contemporaries were repeating the sins of their ancestors.” So this preaching scene at the Water Gate, with all the people gathered around and the wooden platform built for the occasion and the reading and interpreting of the law comes to the fore amid Ezra and Nehemiah’s call for the people to return to the law. The return, the reunion, the restoration is not just to Jerusalem, not just the temple. It is a reunion of all the people and the law of God. All the people and the Torah. All the people and the Word of God.

The people and the Word. It is a relationship that rests at the very heart of Reformation history, tradition, and understanding. Scripture as the word of God available in the language of the people. The presence of the visible church where the Word of God is truly preached and heard and the sacraments rightly administered. The Protestant “watchwords” that uphold the affirmations of the Reformation, the affirmation that God’s grace in Jesus Christ is revealed in the scripture, “grace alone, faith alone, scripture alone.” Preaching as the Word of God in the power of the Holy Spirit as the community gathers and the scriptures are interpreted and the gospel is proclaimed. The Word of God made flesh in Jesus Christ, so that all the reading, all the study, all the interpretation is in and through the community and in service to the One who alone is full of grace and full of truth.

It is striking that the response to the reading and interpreting and understanding of the law in and among the people, the response of weeping is itself a collective, corporate, community response. All the people wept. There was no missing it; that square filled with tears. What is describe here as the response to the Word is not individual. This isn’t “I Come to the Garden Alone” kind of revival meeting. And Ezra and Nehemiah and the Levites proclaim that the people’s response to the Word has be more than tears, go beyond the weeping. Do not mourn or weep. This day is holy to the Lord your God. The preacher and those who gave the sense of the law, they told the people to go and eat and drink and share from their abundance with those who had none. They told the people to rejoice and celebrate because the joy of the Lord is your strength. The Water Gate gathering finally broke up because the people went on their way to eat and drink and send portions and to make great rejoicing. Sending portions and making great rejoicing because they had understood the words that were declared to them. The sending away, it sounds like what happened after Pentecost, with all the people living together, sharing what they had, feasting and rejoicing and worshipping. All the people. The people and the Word of God.

More than tears, more than weeping. The response to understanding the Word of God is life together in the community of faith. The Jewish people returned to a familiar place yet heard the law of God, the Word of God in a fresh way. And you really can’t miss it. It was not about one person’s heart or relationship to God, it was about all the people. The preaching tradition with such strong roots in the Reformation, the preaching tradition entrusted to me, no, entrusted to us, affirms that our response to the proclamation of the Gospel of Jesus Christ is our life together as a community of faith. It can’t be about one preacher, one person’s interpretation. One preacher in a living room at home on a Thursday recording on a cell phone. Oh, we could do it. We did it to keep us all healthy and safe. But that’s not how it is supposed to be. We’re supposed to do this together. The mantle of the reading and proclaiming of God’s Word passed on to us demands a preaching life, preacher and congregation that is about discerning our life together, our life together in the world, discerning how our faith informs not just what is going on inside our heart, inside our church, but in the broader community, in the city, in the world. Every Sunday when you and gather here, now in person and virtually, when we gather in this familiar place, the very promise of God is that we would hear and understand God’s Word in a fresh, dare I say, living way. The people of God and the living Word of God.

The people of God and the living Word of God. You and I, hear and listen and strain to understand. Yearning to get the sense of the Word for this time and this place. Discerning a faithful response when it comes to life together here and now. Yes, it would all be so much simpler for us and easier for the preacher, if it was just about you and God, you and your relationship with God, you and your salvation. But that was never how it was supposed to be. Remember all the people?

Yes, remember all the people. All the people and the Living Word of God. For the joy of the Lord shall be our strength. And our preaching life, our worship life, shall be a joyful feast. And we shall be sent forth in joy. And out of our abundance we shall send portions to those who have none. Because we are a people of the Word. We are the church. We are the body Christ. The hands and feet of Christ for one another so we can be the hands and feet of Christ in the world. And the only way to do that, the faithful way to that, the way God calls us to be the hands and feet of Christ to each and every Lord’s Day, to yearn together for a fresh experience of the Word of God.

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Genesis 33:1-11
David A. Davis
October 24, 2021
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You remember Joseph. He wore that coat of many colors that his father gave him. Some translations call it a long robe. But there is nothing memorable about a long robe with sleeves. You remember the coat of many colors. You remember Joseph. His brothers all hated him because he was a father’s favorite child. A child of Jacob’s old age. A favorite child born of a favorite wife. You remember Joseph. He was the dreamer. Dreams that he would rule over his brothers. They would bow down to him. Dreams that didn’t go over very well. It’s not just his dreams though. There’s the dreams he interpreted with God’s help. The dream of the cup bearer. The dream of the baker. And, of course, the dream of Pharaoh that Joseph understood to be a dream about a famine in the land. Joseph the dreamer.

You remember Joseph. He was sold into slavery. After his brothers conspired to kill him, after they stripped off that coat they couldn’t stand and threw him in a pit. They sold him for twenty pieces of silver. Then he was sold a second time. This time it was Potiphar, an officer of Pharaoh, who paid money for Joseph. You may not remember the bible says Joseph was “handsome and good-looking.” That seems a bit redundant though one translation says he was well-built and good looking. Regardless, his good looks got him into some trouble with Potiphar’s wife. After Joseph kept refusing her advances, she grabbed him by his clothes and tried again. He ran like the dickens away but something of his clothing was left behind. Potiphar’s wife then used the clothing against him and Joseph ended up in prison.

But according to the scripture, Joseph prospered in prison. The Lord was with him. The chief jailer took a liking to him. Joseph became a caretaker to everyone else in the prison. So much so that the chief jailer paid no attention to Joseph. The jailer, the baker, and the cup-bearer. Or maybe the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker. It was quite the time there in prison for Joseph. But it was Joseph the prisoner who was summoned by Pharaoh. So you have to remember Joseph was a prisoner.

Joseph the favorite child. The dreamer. The interpreter. The slave. The handsome and good-looking man. The prisoner. And at the age of 30, Joseph, by the decree of Pharaoh became the governor of Egypt. Joseph pretty much had control of everything. Joseph was in charge of

gathering and storing food in all the cities in preparation for the famine. Joseph put away more food than could be measured. Yes, Joseph was in charge, was a big wig, and internationally known. As the narrator reports “all the world came to Joseph in Egypt to buy grain” Joseph was the man.

Joseph. Joseph. Joseph. Who doesn’t remember Joseph? What’s not to remember about Joseph? He was a rock star. If you are a soccer fan, he was the Lionel Messi of the Book of Genesis. He was the Winston Churchill of Egypt’s war with a famine. He was the Amazon of antiquity getting food to people’s homes when the shelves were empty everywhere. But there was something else about Joseph that you ought to remember, something else you ought not forget. Joseph was a crier. The dreamer on more than once occasion was moved to tears. The slave, the prisoner, the handsome, good-looking one, he wasn’t just a crier, he was weeper. He was real good weeper.

I have told you before I cry at standing ovations, ESPN 30 for 30 episodes, and every time I watch the movie “Rudy” so maybe that’s why I am drawn to Joseph’s tears. It’s Joseph tears that fall as he found himself together again with his brothers. First, it was when he overheard the brothers talking about how they were now paying the price for what they did to Joseph. They were now suffering the anguish that they had caused for Joseph. It was Reuben who said “I told you so”. “Did I not tell you not to wrong the boy? But you would not listen.” When he heard that one of his brothers tried to stop the others, Joseph “turned away from them and wept.”

When the sons of Jacob returned to Joseph a second, this time with Benjamin, the youngest of all the brothers, Joseph again shed tears. “When he looked up  and saw his brother Benjamin, his mother’s youngest son…Joseph hurried out, because he was about to weep.”  According to the text “he went into a private room and wept there. Then he washed his face and came out; and controlling himself” he announced that the prepared feast would begin.

And then, in the part of the story that I offered for your hearing this morning, Judah “steps up”. Judah tries to explain why they were trying to protect the youngest son Benjamin from any harm. Judah tells of his father’s grief over one lost son already; that he could not bare to lose another. Judah pleads with Joseph, telling him his father will surely die if they return without Benjamin. Judah offers himself as a sacrifice so that his father would suffer no more. “please let your servant remain as a slave to my lord in place of the boy, and let the boy go back with his brothers.”

That’s when Joseph really weeps. I mean really weeps. He could no longer control himself the bible says. Though he sent everyone away, he wept so loudly that everyone could hear him. “He wept so loudly that the Egyptians heard it and the household of Pharoah heard it.” It was as if the entire nation could hear him cry. That’s a loud cry. That’s not a turn your back and shed a few tears. That’s not a go into a private room and then wash off your face kind of cry. That’s a weeping pretty much the whole world could hear. I don’t know about you, but if you have ever had the experience of being able to hear someone weep when you are in another room, or outside the house, or no where near, you can’t forget it. You can’t unhear it. It stays with you forever.

The Book of Genesis doesn’t provide a reason for Joseph’s wail. Hearing about his father Jacob’s tender heart at such an old age? The offer of Judah to trade places with Benjamin, to send himself into slavery so that Jacob would not suffer and the youngest son would be spared?  The realization finally hits him that his father, though very old, is still alive and a reunion with him is possible? The tension of not revealing his true identity to his brothers finally catches up with him? The weight of fifteen years of separation from his family now being lifted? The power of his own opportunity to forgive and his lingering anger and bitterness falling away?  The overwhelming experience of reconciliation, restoration, and healing that words can never do justice? Joseph was not only a good weeper. This was good weeping. With the magnitude of his weeping, the cry heard around the world, the only conclusion for the reader to come to is that it is all of that and more.

Joseph and that moment he could no longer control himself. Maybe that was the moment too, that it struck him way deep inside that there was never a time in his life that God was not with him, that God was not at work in and through him. That through it all, God did not abandon or forsake him. You heard what he said to his brothers at the great reveal. “God sent me before you to preserve life…..God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth….it was not you who sent here but God.” The easier take is to conclude Joseph was dropping all the God language to help assuage the collective conscience of his brothers there before him. The harder take, the harder take, is that somewhere in all those tears, Joseph experienced the promise of God’s presence and purpose in his life and the healing reconciliation that God intends.

Remember Joseph the weeper. The really loud weeper. The one who wept so loud that you could hear it too. Weeping like that you can’t unhear, nor should you unhear it. Because you have to hear that our life in God is one where unity overcomes estrangement, forgiveness heals guilt, and joy conquers despair. You have to hear that God has called us not to a ministry that divides but to a ministry of reconciliation. You have to hear that in Jesus Christ we are called we are not called to become the judgement of God but the righteousness of God. You have to hear over and over about the promise that comes with looking back and knowing deep within that God is always with you. God shall not abandon you. God shall never forsake you. You have to hear that the Risen Lord Jesus shall be with you to the end of the age. You have to hear, you can’t hear it to much, what comes from the prophet Jeremiah, “surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.”

Joseph’s cry. It was a cry that everyone could hear. The world could hear. You and I can hear. You have to stop and listen.  Because it is cry that proclaims the healing reconciliation God intends for you. And when you have one of those moments when you experience, when you know, when you can feel somewhere deep down the promise of God’s presence and purpose in his life and the healing reconciliation that God intends? I can tell you Joseph won’t be the only one in tears.

 

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Genesis 33:1-11
David A. Davis
October 17, 2021
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We started our fall linked-in series this week: Together Again, Biblical Stories of Reunion and Restoration. This morning our story tells of Jacob and Esau in the Book of Genesis. Small groups this week talked about Esau and Jacob. In Adult Education, Dr. Anne Stewart from Princeton Theological Seminary is talking about Jacob and Esau. The audio recording will be available on Monday on the Adult Ed page of our website. And I am about to take my swing at Esau and Jacob. Next week we stay in the Book of Genesis and turn to the story of Joseph and his brothers. Dr. Dennis Olsen will be joining us for Adult Education. If you have not signed up for a small group, you can still have access to the study guide on the small group page in the Adult Education section of the website. I hope everyone who plans to join us for worship next week can take some time to read the chapters in Genesis that tell of Joseph and his brothers. It is always difficult to recap some of these Old Testament narratives and still have a bit of time for the rest of the sermon. That is exactly what I am going to try to do with Jacob and Esau.

Our text today is in the 33^rd chapter of Genesis. But the story begins back in the 25^th chapter when Isaac’s wife Rebekah, who had not been able to have a child, becomes pregnant with twins. Right away the reader learns that the two children “struggled together within her”.  Then the Lord says this to Rebekah: “Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples born of you shall be divided; the one shall be stronger than the other, the elder shall serve the younger.”. So we sort of have a divinely established sibling rivalry here.

When it came time for Rebekah to deliver, Esau was born first. He was according to the bible, red and hairy. Jacob was born holding on to his older brother’s heel apparently trying right from the get-go to be first. The name Jacob means: heel, or deceiver, or one who supplants. Esau was the hunter; a man of the field. Jacob, it says, “was a quiet man, living in tents.” Their father Isaac loved Esau because he was fond of game. Their mother Rebekah loved Jacob. Another bad omen for the boys’ relationship.

One day Jacob had made some stew and Esau came in from the field famished. “Let me eat some of that red stuff, Jacob.” The text actually calls it “red stuff”.  Jacob told Esau he would only give him some stew only if Esau sold him his birthright. Esau was so hungry, birthright was the last thing on his mind. “I’m dying here of hunger, and you’re worried about a birthright?” Stew? Birthright? Stew? Birthright? Esau went for the red stuff.

“When Isaac was old and his eyes were dim so that he could not see” he called to his elder son Esau and explained that he was dying and that his wish was that the Esau would go out and hunt his father a delicious meal. “Bring it to me to eat so that I may bless you before I die.” You remember this part, don’t you? Rebekah, who loved Jacob more, she conspires with the younger son to trick the old man into blessing not the elder but the younger son. With food made by mom and wearing Esau’s own clothes that surely smelled like him, and an animal skin worn like a costume to feel like all Esau’s hair, Jacob goes into visit his father pretending to be his brother. Sure enough, Jacob flat out lies to his father and receives a blessing. Jacob lifted both the birthright and the blessing from his brother. Just as the blessing leaves Isaac’s mouth, Esau comes in from his hunting to share the fresh catch feast with his father. Isaac quickly realizes he has been deceived and that his blessing went forth erroneously. Esau, seeing  he has again been the victim of his brother’s deception, cries out with “an exceedingly great and bitter cry” begging for his father’s blessing. But in way of the ancient world when it comes to the mathematics of blessings, Isaac only had one to give. Isaac had nothing left to give. Right there in scripture it says Esau hated Jacob and after his father’s death, he would set out kill Jacob.

Yes, of course, Jacob’s mother warns him and tells him to go live with Uncle Laban until “until your brother’s anger against you turns away and he forgets what you have done to him.”  Part of the sending away plan was so Jacob would not marry a Canaanite woman. Esau saw Jacob’s leave taking and his father’s instructions about marriage and so he immediately determines he is going to marry a Canaanite woman apparently just to get back at his parents. And in a detail not to be missed in this drama, Esau marries Ishmael’s daughter Mahalath. Ishmael, Abraham’s son with Hagar. Sent off to make a great nation. And the Lord’s word to Rebekah come back to the reader’s mind: “Two nations are in your womb”.

Esau exits the bible’s stage while the story sticks with Jacob and Leah and Rachel. Years later (twenty years, two wives, and eleven children later) Jacob sends some messengers to try to get in touch with Esau, hoping to find favor in his sight. But he gets word back that Esau was coming to find him along with four hundred men. That scares the bejeebers out of Jacob because  he assumes Esau is coming back for revenge. So he devises a plan to offer a bunch of his animals to his brother as a gift. Jacob thinks it is the only way he could see Esau face to face; the only way Esau might accept him after all the deception. The peace offering is sent on ahead to Esau.

The night before the show down at the OK corral of scripture, Jacob sends the family on up ahead a bit and he spends a solitary night wrestling with a mysterious man until day break. Tradition says he was wrestling with an angel. The two ask after each other’s names. In giving Jacob the name Israel, the man says, “You have striven with God and with humans and have prevailed.” Jacob responds that he has “seen God face to face” and he heads into the day and rest of his life limping because of a bad hip.

Genesis 33:1-11

The parable of the Prodigal Son, as it turns out, might be a more familiar account of a tear-filled, reconciling, family embrace. But it is clearly not the first. It must have felt like it lasted forever and Jacob convinces Esau to accept the gift he had sent earlier, telling him “truly, to see your face is like seeing the face of God.”  Esau, the estranged brother who wanted to kill Jacob for all that Jacob had done to him, all that Jacob had taken from him. Esau ran to meet his brother after decades. Esau embraced Jacob. Esau fell on Jacob’s next. Esau kissed Jacob. And Esau and Jacob wept. And in that moment, Jacob saw the face of God. “Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples born of you shall be divided; the one shall be stronger than the other, the elder shall serve the younger.” And in the embrace, in the reconciliation, in the forgiveness, in the restoration… the face of God.

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Hebrews 4:12-16 [i]
Lauren J. McFeaters
October 10, 2021
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In the seven days since we were last together, there has been a lot of news:

• a new total of global COVID deaths: 4.55 million, in the US: 713,000 deaths.
• A COVID vaccine company, purposely holding back vaccines from the poor.
• The explosion of eating disorders among our country’s teens.
• The surge of trepidation in Taiwan.
• Failures to stop sexual abuse within the church that has global denominations scrambling to understand the betrayal and cover-up.
• Fire. Heat. Drought.
• And 20 new extinctions of animals and plants.

This news grabs our minds and pierces our hearts. Some of us rage, and that’s fine. Some fall down weeping, and that’s good. Some are numb and can’t take anymore and that’s OK. Another day goes by, and we begin to believe we have no more emotional resources to life fully; no more spiritual resources to pray; no more yearning to stake a claim for our place in the world.

And just when we hover on the edge of wanting to run away, God leads us to a small band of believers in the first century who are as shaken about the world as we are. We meet the Church of the Hebrews and hear words reaching out through the centuries:

We must pay greater attention to what we have heard,
so that we do not drift away from it. (2:1)
Indeed, the word of God is living and active,
sharper than any two-edged sword,
piercing until it divides soul from spirit,
joints from marrow;
it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart.

 The Letter to the Hebrews is really baffling. It’s complex, lyrical, multifaceted, and unlike any other writing in the Bible. We don’t know who wrote it, where it was written, when it was written, for whom it was written. Just last week, Dave preached from the first chapter, and encouraged us saying, sit down and read the Letter to the Hebrews from beginning to end. It’s full of complicated stuff about Jesus.[ii]

And it is. As we read it, we begin to notice it’s not really a letter at all. It’s called a letter; looks like a letter, smells like a letter, tastes like a letter, but it’s a sermon in disguise: a pastoral sermon directed to a beloved church in need of the cleansing balm of confession.

You see, many linger on the outskirts of belonging, and float around the fringes of fellowship. They are weary. How can they possibly work for justice when they can hardly take care of themselves? They are drained, sapped, bored. How can they possibly encourage one another, worship beside one another, lift their voices to confess their brokenness alongside one another?

One preacher puts it this way: The threat to the Hebrews church is not that they are charging off and away from faith, but that they don’t have the energy to charge off anywhere. The threat here is that worn out and worn down they are dropping off and drifting away.^[iii]

The problem is familiar. We too feel exhausted, drained, overworked, and overstretched. How do we work up empathy for others, when Sunday mornings become some of the only unstructured time in our entire week? Why show up at church? Why not stay in bed. Why not drop the kids off at church school and catch a quiet cup of coffee.

• Hold on. There’s the distinct aroma coming in from the west, from Small World. It’s Grumpy Monkey with its bold, bright and spicy notes straight from beans from Papua New Guinea and Tanzania Peaberry. You think I’m kidding? I’m not.
• And wait a minute! I’m getting a whiff of Relativity blend from Sakrid Coffee just south, on the corner. It’s called Relativity because there’s a direct line from the coffee shop to Einstein’s home – .5 miles. No one could blame you for worshipping at “Sakrid Coffee” on a Sunday morning.

As people of faith, there’s a fair amount of wandering off and hiding we try to do. Think about it. When do you hide from God? What do dive into to run away?

When faced with a world of brutality, uncertainty, and cruelty we hide in all sorts of things that numb us out:  alcohol, painkillers, food, cannabis, exhilarating affairs, pornography, gossip, sleep, screen time, imposing ourselves into relationships where we don’t belong.

The Preacher of the Hebrews Church, knows this is true for their church, but is somehow bold, brave, and brash enough to shout out the word of the Living God, sharper than any two-edged sword, calls us out of hiding, resuscitates and revives.

 It doesn’t matter how tired or numb we are.

• The One who scrubs clean our hearts wants our full attention.
• The One who died for us, wants our honesty.
• The One who lives for us, calls us to open ourselves and share with him our deepest fears and joys; anxieties and gratitude.
• The One who grabs us by the scruff of the neck demands our awareness of ourselves; not to numb out but to come forth to the mercy seat of confession.
• There is no running away in the kingdom of God. There is no disappearing. There is only stripped down vulnerability in front of our Lord, because…and here it is…

Before our Lord, no creature is hidden,
but all are naked
and laid bare to the eyes of the one,
to whom we must render an account.

When all feels lost comes the very Word of God. The Word that is faithful and true. The Word wakes us up and sweeps away the sleep from our hearts. ^[iv]

For we do have a high priest
who is able to sympathize with our weaknesses.
We have One who, in every respect,
has been tested as we are, yet without sin.
Let us therefore approach the throne of grace
with boldness,
so that we may receive mercy
and find grace to help in time of need.

 This Word pierces us; not as a physical attack:

• but as a skillful surgeon mending our torn hearts;
• stitching up our emotional lacerations;
• resetting our dislocated souls;
• standing us upright and helping us to begin again.^[v]

Laying ourselves bare before God,
is an act of faith.
Laying ourselves bare before God,
is an act of devotion.

 We render an account. Hold fast to our confession.
And approaching the throne of grace with boldness,
we receive sweet mercy and find the balm of grace.

 

Thanks be to God.

 

ENDNOTES

[i] Hebrews 4:12-16 NRSV:  Indeed, the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart. And before our Lord no creature is hidden, but all are naked and laid bare to the eyes of the one to whom we must render an account. Since, then, we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have One who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

[ii] David A. Davis. “The Imprint of Glory: Hebrews 1:1-4.” Nassau Presbyterian Church, October 3, 2021, nassauchurch.org/the-imprint-of-glory.

[iii] Thomas G. Long. Hebrews. Louisville: John Knox Press, 1997, 3.

[iv] Wayne Muller. Sabbath: Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in Our Busy Lives. New York:  Bantam Books, 1999, 1-3.

[v] Thomas G. Long. Beyond the Worship Wars: Building Vital and Faithful Worship. The Alban Institute Inc., 2001, 17.

 

**Please note, the audio of this sermon does not reflect the corrected COVID statistics listed above**

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