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Sermon – Luke 2.1-20, CE, YC, December 24, 2024

12 Wednesday Feb 2025

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Sermons

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awe, Bethlehem, burdens, Christ Child, Christmas, dystopian, film, gift, hope, Jesus, Joseph, joy, light, Mary, Messiah, sacred, Savior, Sermon, unsteady

Every summer, we hold a film series at Hickory Neck.  This summer, one of the films was movie called Children of Men.  The film is a dystopian film situated in London about a time in the future when the world has become infertile.  The youngest human, aged 18 has just died, schools and playgrounds are abandoned, a pall of grief and depression hangs in the air, and the world has become violent, unpredictable, harsh – with massive detainment camps of refugees and rebels fighting the government militia and civilians alike.  Into this setting, we meet Theo, a man who has lost hope and purpose, and we meet a young woman of color who would normally be in one of those detainment camps, who is secretly carrying the first pregnancy in over 18 years.  Theo’s world is thrown into chaos as he tries to get the young mother to safety so that the child will be able to live freely. 

In a powerful scene near the end of the movie, the mother has birthed her child in a dingy, rat-infested, crumbling room, and Theo needs to get her and the child to the safe haven.  But the crumbling building is overrun with rebels and a battle ensues as the military shows up.  In the din of violence and noise, the baby cries out, and all activity ceases.  Rebels hold their fire as they watch in reverence as the baby is carried down the stairs of the building.  The soldiers outside call for a ceasefire as the high-pitched cries they have not heard in almost 20 years fill the air.  Rebels, civilians, and soldiers alike stand in awe, many reaching out just to touch the baby and mother.  The awed silence is so palpable that even movie watchers hold their breath at this miracle.

I imagine that night from our gospel lesson was a bit like that breath-holding moment in Children of Men.   We know that Mary and Joseph are going to be registered in Bethlehem, but what we can forget is that Mary and Joseph live in a time of occupation – where taxes are extorted, registrations can drive folks from their homes, where rebellion against the state leads to death.  The mass movement of people for the registration creates another layer of chaos, leaving people jockeying for shelter, especially a couple so close to birth, and whose pregnancy is of a dubious nature from the beginning.  Even in the peaceful countryside where shepherds are just doing their work, a chaos of shocking news, a chorus from angels, and the blinding light of the glory of the Lord is shining in their normally darkened pastoral setting. 

And then, just like in that battle scene in the film, the shepherds arrive where the holy family have made due, and a whispered conversation leads to a stillness that makes you hold your breath.  But this stillness is not just about the miracle of life – no this stillness is about so much more – about a savior, the Messiah, who has been promised for generations who finally is here; about a promised peace in a world that has no peace; about promises for justice that Mary has sung about with her cousin Elizabeth, and now seems to be a reality.  Mary is so overwhelmed by the enormity of the moment that all she can do is ponder the words of the shepherds in her heart.

What is so unsettling about the parallels in this secular, dystopian film and the ancient biblical story is not just their similarities.  What is most unsettling is their similarities to our own time.  Our political landscape is just as unstable, conflicted, and threatening.  Our economic, mental, and physical health is just as unsteady.  And for some of us, our home life is a place of even more strain.  In so many ways, having ourselves a merry little Christmas feels like a stretch.  In fact, the very reason we may be here tonight – besides a family member telling us we had to come – is that we long for that moment of awe – that quiet, tremendous, encouraging peace that can only be found at the site of the Christ Child.  We want a word, or a song, or a meal shared that will leave us something to treasure and ponder in our hearts too.

That is what Christmas does.  Coming here tonight is not going to solve all our problems or the world’s problems.  In that movie, as soon as the child is out of sight, bombs and gunfire ramp up dangerously again.  At that manger scene, Herod’s paranoid tyranny means Mary, Joseph, and Jesus will have to flee to Egypt for safety.  And come January, we will have a transition in power in our own country.  But tonight, in this sacred space, we enter into a time of unfiltered joy.  We recall what matters most – the Savior born in a manger whose eventual salvation will give us meaning and purpose.  We lean into those gathered with us tonight – those who are family and friends, those who are fellow church members, and even those whose names we do not know – we lean into one another in this safe space of sanctuary, where none of the darkness outside can touch us – even if only for an hour.  We lay down any burdens on our hearts at the altar as we share a holy meal, fortifying ourselves for what comes next.  And we glorify and praise God, like shepherds who have seen a great light, and whispered holy truths. 

Now unfortunately, that tremendous gift, that sacred life-giving balm, is not without a price.  The price, is that we must leave this place, enter back into the dark of night, and carry on with life back out in the world.  Our invitation is to carry whatever light, whatever hope, whatever small sliver of praise and glory we find this night, and gift it to someone else.  To be like Theo, who refuses to allow the glory of a mother’s child to suffer; to be like shepherds, who share the good news of a Messiah; to be like your neighbor in the chair (pew) beside you, who is already thinking of someone who needs the gift of hope and healing who cannot be here tonight, but whom your neighbor will be sure to gift some of that love and peace to tomorrow.  Christmas is the Church’s gift to you this night.  You are Jesus’s gift to someone else tomorrow.  Amen.

On Cellos, Love, and the Incarnation…

18 Wednesday Dec 2019

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Uncategorized

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awe, cello, child, Christmas, God, good, incarnation, Jesus, love, Mary, parent, wonder

cello-v4r-1483624458-editorial-long-form-0

Photo credit:  https://www.classicfm.com/discover-music/instruments/cello/

Yesterday, my elder child performed in the school’s Christmas concert.  She had been pretty excited and anxious about the concert for weeks.  They worked very hard in class, and she had been practicing daily at home.  She was determined to learn the special songs so she could play them.  Over these last months, she has asked me to sit nearby occasionally and listen; other times, I could hear the songs of the cello floating down the stairs.  But none of that prepared me for what I saw yesterday.  Yesterday, she sat tall in her chair, attentive, and calm.  Suddenly, her arms look graceful and light.  Her movements were like that of a dancer, able to beautifully coax out a tune from her curved instrument.  I was stunned by her beauty, having never fully seen it before as she plugged away at home.  My heart warmed, and was filled with love for the nimble creature – a child who certainly gives me a run for my money in fierceness, stubbornness, and independence, but also who I keep discovering I love more than I even understand.

As I have been thinking about that surge of love and awe for my child, I began to wonder if that was what Mary felt on that night Jesus was born.  Her pregnancy was so fraught.  From her bizarre conception story, to working out marital details with Joseph, to the encounter with her cousin Elizabeth, to the government’s census that forced her to travel while very pregnant, to replaying the conversation with the Angel Gabriel, knowing wondrous, awful, amazing things were to happen with her child.  Though she seemed to embrace her role fully, I sometimes wonder whether she was able to feel love for the child who had brought so much chaos to her life – at least not until she laid eyes on him.  I suspect only then, did her sense of purpose become intertwined with a sense of deep love – a sense of awe bigger than herself.

I think that is how God loves us.  At times, I suspect God, like any parent, has a wicked eye roll and has mastered a deep sigh in response to our behavior.  But I also imagine God has this deep sense of awe, wonder, and love for us – for the ways in which we can be beautiful to one another, the ways in which we use our gifts for good, and the ways in which we glorify God.  I believe the entire Incarnation is due to this deep love – a love even deeper than we experience in those fleeting moments of insight with our children and one another.  That realization is how I head into Christmas this year.  Not thinking about cute babies, or crazy birth narratives necessarily, but in humbled awe of how much God loves us.  When we catch a glimpse of that love, we do not really need anything else this Christmas.  In this last week before Christmas, I invite you to consider the best gift that is waiting for you this year.  Everything else is just trimming.

incarnation

Photo credit:  https://thefellowshipoftheking.net/2015/12/24/lovely-lady-dressed-in-blue-marys-role-in-the-incarnation/

On seeing beauty…

04 Wednesday Nov 2015

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Uncategorized

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Tags

awe, beauty, creation, fall, God, leaves, love, season, seeing

Photo credit: http://xyer.co/fall-leaves-wallpapers.html

Photo credit: http://xyer.co/fall-leaves-wallpapers.html

Most of you know that fall is my favorite season.  Every year I am blown away by the turning of leaves.  Something about that transition is magical and mystical.  Each tree seems to have a period of glory.  Sometimes it sneaks up you.  You walk on the same path every day.  But one day, that tree has gone from a slow transition to being brilliantly red, orange, or yellow.  It takes your breath away and you literally stop in your tracks.  Sometimes you just stare; but sometimes you close your eyes, taking a deep breath of the cool, autumn air, the image of those colors blazed in your mind.

Over the years I have had my favorites.  In seminary, there were three small trees planted in a triangle formation.  They turned a brilliant yellow every year.  But when the leaves fell, three circles of yellow formed on the grass.  I couldn’t help thinking of our Trinitarian God looking at those concentric circles of yellow bliss.  In my first curacy there was a bush on the church campus that turned blazing red.  It was one of those that would sneak up on you.  Fortunately, it always held its leaves for a while, so its color was a daily gift of joy for weeks.  Here at St. Margaret’s there is a wall of trees lining the front entrance of the property.  They are enormously tall, but otherwise unassuming.  Their leaves aren’t even pretty in shape.  But, when the time is right, they all turn a beautiful yellow that becomes stunning when the sun hits them just right.

As I was walking the property this week, I wondered whether God looks at each of us the way that I lovingly look at the changing leaves.  I wonder whether God sees heart-stopping beauty in each of us, gasping in awe of us.  Of course, we could never see ourselves in such awe-inspiring ways, but I imagine God can.  And unlike us, who have our favorite seasons, I imagine God is in awe of us in all seasons of life.  When we are budding with new life, when we are deep shades of green, when we explode in shockingly beautiful colors, and even when we are bare and vulnerable, God sees our beauty always.

If God can see that kind of beauty in us, how might our behavior change if we started seeing that same beauty in ourselves and in others?  The work would be hard.  I don’t always like the brusque winters or the lazy summers I sometimes see in others.  Sometimes I look at myself and only see the ugly shape of my leaves and not their brilliant color.  But if God is willing to see the beauty in all seasons of my life, perhaps I can start trying to see the beauty in myself and others too.

Sermon – Proverbs 31.10-31, Mark 9.30-37, P20, YB, September 20, 2015

23 Wednesday Sep 2015

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Uncategorized

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awe, capable, church, companionship, disciples, fear, God, grace, gratitude, humility, Jesus, joy, Lord, Mark, perfection, power, Proverbs, satisfaction, scolding, scripture, Sermon, strength, warrior-like, wife, woman, wonder

There are some Sundays when the scripture lessons appointed for the day are just right.  They speak truth to power or relate to a spiritual crisis in the community.  They shed light on a current event or they give pastoral words to aching hearts.  On those days, I am so grateful for the ways in which I see the Holy Spirit moving through the Church through the vehicle of scripture.  Today is not one of those days.  I read both our Old Testament and Gospel lessons this week, and my first reaction was, “Really?!?  THIS is what we needed to hear this week, God??”

The Old Testament lesson from Proverbs is actually one of my favorites – even though the lesson takes some deconstructing.  This passage is often referred to as the passage about the capable wife.  Now anytime the church starts talking about how women need to be wives and how those wives need to be “capable” I start getting defensive.  The good news is that the title is more the problem than the lesson itself.  The Hebrew word often translated as “capable” is better translated as powerful, strong, or even warrior-like.  This woman is a superhero.  She rises before dawn; manages a staff, ensuring her family has food and security; she purchases property and plants a vineyard with her own hands; she runs a thriving business, providing fine clothing for her family and the community; she is known for her wisdom and is happy and satisfied; and in her spare time, she is a shining example of philanthropy.  When you think about the traditional role of women in the patriarchal society of the time,[i] this woman is on fire.  She is an empowered woman, an equal partner to her husband, and is the master of both her home and her work outside of the home.[ii]  She is like Martha Stewart on steroids.

In the Gospel lesson, we find the disciples struggling yet again.  Jesus meets with the disciples and explains to them his fate.  And instead of asking Jesus what he means, they remain silent because they are too afraid to ask.  Actually, they do not remain silent.  Instead, they start bickering among themselves about who will be first in the kingdom.  I suppose that if the world is going to end, we might be similarly distracted.  But Jesus catches them arguing and shames them into true silence.  Not only does Jesus tell the disciples that they must strive to be last – servants of all; but also, Jesus tells them that in order to be a part of Jesus’ kingdom, they need to welcome children like they would welcome Jesus (which really could be interpreted as welcoming the poor, widowed, or disenfranchised).  So basically, Jesus tells the disciples they are a mess.  Not only are they not listening, they are distracted by their egos, and they are not attending to the one ministry he has called them to do.

So here is the challenge with these two lessons.  Basically, we take from the lessons that we are all too full of ourselves, we are distracted by the wrong things, we are not doing the work Jesus has called us to do.  And if we want to correct all of that behavior, we need to become warrior women and men – Martha Stewarts on steroids, showing everybody how it’s done.  Now I am not arguing that any of those points are not inherently truthful and are not lovely goals toward which we should strive.  What I am arguing is that I just did not want to hear them this week.  Here we are busting our buns to do the massive amount of work needed to pull off the Fall Fair.  Here we are busy kicking off the program year, with teachers preparing lesson plans, the choir readying music, and all our ministries being back on deck.  Here we are putting together last minute receptions for the bereaved, trying to complete a major construction project, and trying to ensure that we have enough funds to run our operations and enough energy to evangelize in our community.  And that is on top of all the work we are doing to get kids back to school, to reconnect with our community commitments after a summer hiatus, to make sure we are still performing well at work, to get our homes tidy and prepared for fall, and to squeeze in some football games.  In the midst of that chaos, the last thing I need to hear from church today is that my priorities are all wrong and that I need to work harder – a lot harder.  Thanks, but no thanks, Holy Scripture!

The good news is that there is good news.  For all the overwhelming work of the warrior-like woman in Proverbs and for all the scolding the disciples receive, the message from both lessons is clear and surprisingly manageable.  In Proverbs, the lesson concludes, “a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.”  Now this is not the kind of fear we get when we talk about horror films, phobias, or abject worry.  The fear the passage is talking about is “awe, wonder, gratitude, and reverent humility before the Creator.”[iii]  Now fear of the Lord may sound like one more thing to add to the to-do list, but actually, fear is where the lessons are calling us to start.  You see, the disciples lacked a genuine fear of the Lord.  They were afraid in the more traditional sense – of what Jesus was talking about, of what would happen to them, of how they would ensure their own security.  They got wrapped up in themselves.  But if they had been wrapped up in awe, wonder, gratitude, and humility, all of the things Jesus had to instruct them to do would have come more naturally.  If they were in awe of Jesus, they would have easily been able to see how grateful they should be to have a Messiah who would sacrifice himself for them.  If they had been in wonder of Jesus, they would have simply been happy to be called a disciple, without worrying about their place or status.  If they had been full of gratitude, they would have already been welcoming children – and the poor, and the outcast, and the stranger.  The same sort of reversal is true for the warrior-like woman in Proverbs.  All of those amazing things she seems to accomplish in 24 hours happen only because of her reverence for God.  She is not favored because of all that she does.  She is able to do all that she does because she starts in a place of gratitude.  The rest flows easily out of that vantage point.

Today’s lessons are not about scolding us for how we get everything wrong, or about setting some impossible standard of perfection for us.  Instead, today’s lessons are about checking our baseline.  When our baseline is about awe, wonder, gratitude, and humility, we find living into Jesus’ instructions much easier.  When our baseline is about awe, wonder, gratitude, and humility, those astounding to-do lists and projects do not seem like burdens but gifts.  When our baseline is about awe, wonder, gratitude, and humility, church is not only a place we want to be, church is a place to which we are lovingly drawn.  That’s when that piece you were writing about stewardship doesn’t seem scary or even hard.  That’s when those sacred moments happen in Sunday School when a child or teen says something profound that stays with you all week.  That’s when you are up to your ears in stress about the Fair, and something funny – really funny – happens, and you and the other volunteers laugh so hard that you cry.  Holy Scripture today is not directing us down a path of guilt and shame.  Holy Scripture today is inviting us onto that path less travelled – the one that starts with awe, wonder, gratitude, and humility, and ends with grace, joy, companionship, and satisfaction.  I may not have wanted to hear our scripture lessons today.  But I needed to hear them.  My hope is that you can hear them in the spirit in which they were intended too.  Amen.

[i] Brent A. Strawn, “Commentary on Proverbs 31.10-31,” September 20, 2009, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=390 on September 18, 2015.

[ii] Telford Work, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 78.

[iii] Kathleen M. O’Connor, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 79.

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