THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY

Isaiah 9:1-4

Psalm 27:1, 4-9

1 Corinthians 1:10-18

Matthew 4:12-23

Prayer of the Day: Lord God, your loving kindness always goes before us and follows after us. Summon us into your light, and direct our steps in the ways of goodness that come through the cross of your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.

“From that time Jesus began to proclaim, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.’” Matthew 4:17.

“For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” I Corinthians 1:18.

“The kingdom of heaven has come near,” says Jesus. Yet as we will learn as Matthew’s gospel unfolds, that kingdom takes the shape of the cross in a world determined to reject it. The cross, Saint Paul tells us, is “foolishness” to those who are perishing. And, truth be told, it does sound foolish to insist that the earth belongs to the marginalized rather than to the nation states claiming sovereignty over it. It does seem foolish to claim blessedness for the hungry, the poor and the persecuted. More foolish still is the way of love for enemies, forgiveness for wrongs done and the refusal to take up the sword-no matter how just the cause. The reign of God resembles nothing so much as a kingdom of fools.

In the days ahead, we will be graced with gospel readings from the Sermon on the Mount, teachings that, if followed, seem destined to ruin us. For that reason, the church has struggled mightily with them. In the early period of imperial Christianity, the Sermon was deemed suitable only for monastic communities set apart from the commercial, social and geopolitical pressures of the world where the rest of us live. Protestant theologians have sought to distinguish the Sermon, which governs only one’s own personal morality, from the duties of public life that require a different ethic. For example, my own Lutheran tradition espouses the “Two Kingdoms Doctrine” under which it is understood that God works in two distinct ways. Under God’s right hand are the preaching and practice of the church through which people are led to faith in Jesus Christ and trained in personal righteousness. God’s left hand works through the institutions of government, education and commerce to maintain a semblance of order in a sinful and broken world. Thus, if my neighbor strikes, defrauds or otherwise harms me, my response is turning the other cheek, refraining from seeking restitution and forgiving the wrongs against me. However, if I happen to be a soldier, police officer or judge, it is my duty to use force and inflict even death on my neighbor to further the cause of justice. Only our anabaptist siblings have taken the extreme and “foolish” view that Jesus meant what he said in the Sermon.

In this instance, I lean toward the anabaptist reading. I do not believe the Sermon on the Mount represents only a personal morality divorced from the rough and tumble realities of the world. Nor do I believe it is an unachievable ideal, the function of which is merely to show us how sinful we are and how much we need forgiveness.[1] The Sermon is not a goal to be achieved, an ideal to which one should aspire or a tool for spiritual introspection. It is rather a blueprint for the life Jesus actually lived, a life which brought him ultimately to the cross and to which he invites his disciples to participate.

For much of our existence in the United States of America, our churches have been prominent institutions. We have seen our role largely as a supportive one. Along with the local school board, the chamber of commerce and the various lodges and civic organizations, we made our contribution to the public good. Sometimes we served as the conscience of the community. Sometimes we lent our support to upholding the community’s public values and mores-which were not always in sync with the priorities of God’s reign. We offered invocations and benedictions at civic events, blessed everything from babies to battleships and gave our tacit support to the nation’s wars with memorial gardens and participation in military funeral rites. I do not mean to suggest that the contributions made by the church in America over the centuries were without value or that congregations were not doing faithful ministry for Christ and the kingdom he proclaims. But I think it is fair to say that we have often confused the life of discipleship to which Jesus calls us with the duties, privileges and loyalties imposed on us as the nation’s dominant, if not official, religion. We have often lived more by the wisdom of the world than the foolishness of the cross. Now that our dominant role is slipping away, we find ourselves wondering who we are and what to do next.

Institutional religion has been in decline throughout my years of ministry. I have been asked many times whether I believe that the church is dying. My response is always the same: Of course the church is dying. How else can it be resurrected? Behind what you might consider a glib response is a truth as old as the church itself. Jesus told his disciples that following him meant taking up the cross and that all who seek to save their lives will lose them. The flip side is that all who lose their lives for Jesus and the reign of God he proclaims will save it. That is true both individually and communally.

Much of what Jesus has to say in the Sermon on the Mount sounds foolish on its face. But perhaps not as foolish as the pervasive belief that free access to fire arms is the only way to keep us safe and free, even as six-year-olds gun down their teachers. Maybe the way of Jesus is not as foolish as the proxy war between two global powers systematically destroying the nation they both claim to be saving. Maybe the way of Jesus is not as foolish as sheepish faith in political strong men promising “make America great again-” whatever that means. Maybe the way of Jesus is not as foolish as the ancient creed of nation, blood and soil that gave us the carnage of two world wars, the greatest genocidal program of the Twentieth Century and promises the same for the Twenty-first. Perhaps, like alcoholics who finally hit rock bottom, we are ready to acknowledge our toxic and symbiotic relationship with a world that is perishing. Maybe once the haze of our intoxication with privilege has worn off, we will be able with new eyes to see the kingdom of heaven which, Jesus tells us, has drawn near.

How much longer will this trend of ecclesiastical decline continue? How much smaller will the American church become? Perhaps we will become so small that our voice will no longer carry any weight in the halls of power and we will have been consigned to the margins of society-only to discover that this is precisely where we should have been all along. Perhaps we will become so small that we can no longer allow our cultural, historical, doctrinal and denominational differences to divide us-because we need each other too much. Perhaps we will become so poor that we have nothing left but the Word of God-which is really all we ever had to begin with. Perhaps we will become so marginalized, so weak and so impoverished that God can finally make good use of us again. Maybe our decline isn’t decline at all, but simply our being “prune[d] to make [us] bear more fruit.”  John 15:2. Maybe we are losing our life only to gain it. Maybe we are dying only to be reborn. Maybe the old is perishing only to make way for the new. Maybe the reign of God has drawn near. Or maybe I am just being foolish.

Here is a poem by Amanda Gorman sounding a hopeful note for dark times. Foolish? Maybe. But perhaps Ms. Gorman is giving us a glimpse of what God’s dawning reign looks like.     

New Day’s Lyric

May this be the day

We come together.

Mourning, we come to mend,

Withered, we come to weather,

Torn, we come to tend,

Battered, we come to better.

Tethered by this year of yearning,

We are learning

That though we weren’t ready for this,

We have been readied by it.

We steadily vow that no matter

How we are weighed down,

We must always pave a way forward.

This hope is our door, our portal.

Even if we never get back to normal,

Someday we can venture beyond it,

To leave the known and take the first steps.

So let us not return to what was normal,

But reach toward what is next.

What was cursed, we will cure.

What was plagued, we will prove pure.

Where we tend to argue, we will try to agree,

Those fortunes we forswore, now the future we foresee,

Where we weren’t aware, we’re now awake;

Those moments we missed

Are now these moments we make,

The moments we meet,

And our hearts, once all together beaten,

Now all together beat.

Come, look up with kindness yet,

For even solace can be sourced from sorrow.

We remember, not just for the sake of yesterday,

But to take on tomorrow.

We heed this old spirit,

In a new day’s lyric,

In our hearts, we hear it:

For auld lang syne, my dear,

For auld lang syne.

Be bold, sang Time this year,

Be bold, sang Time,

For when you honor yesterday,

Tomorrow ye will find.

Know what we’ve fought

Need not be forgot nor for none.

It defines us, binds us as one,

Come over, join this day just begun.

For wherever we come together,

We will forever overcome.

Source: “Amanda Gorman Releases a Brand New Poem,” Eyewitness News, January 3, 2022. Amanda Gorman (b. 1998) is an American poet and activist. Her work focuses on issues of oppression, feminism, race, and marginalization, as well as the African diaspora. She was born in Los Angeles, California and was raised by her single mother, a 6th-grade English teacher. Her twin sister, Gabrielle, is an activist and filmmaker. Gorman has said she grew up in an environment with limited television access, describing her young self as a “weird” child who enjoyed reading and writing. She was the first person to be named National Youth Poet Laureate. She published the poetry book The One for Whom Food Is Not Enough in 2015. In 2021 she delivered her poem “The Hill We Climb” at the inauguration of U.S. President Joe Biden. You can read more about Amanda Gorman at the Poetry Foundation website.

---

[1] Though, of course, it might function that way.

Kierkegaard’s Ghost

(News that’s fake, but credible)

The Ghost welcomes with pride the newest member of our editorial staff, Phucker Sharlitan. Mr. Sharlitan comes to us from the distinguished news network, Faux News. He is known for his relentless pursuit of stories the “lame stream” media persistently ignores. He was among the first to uncover the insidious plot by Democrats to undermine the white Christian culture of the United States by opening up the borders to millions of liberal, non-white terrorists. He has bravely defended the patriots who fought to save our nation from a stolen election on January 6, 2021. He has ruthlessly pursued the “deep state” with the mercilous light of exposure.

Ghost: Mr. Sharlitan, I am sure I speak for our entire readership when I extend to you our sincerest welcome.

Sharlitan: Thanks. It’s an honor be a part of your fine publication. I’m looking forward to continuing my work of uncovering truths the deep state would rather you didn’t know.

Ghost: Now am I correct in my understanding that your full name is Phucker Sharlitan the Third?

Sharlitan: I don’t like to put numbers at the back of my name. It makes me sound like all those left wing Ivy League snobs who think their hifalutin learning makes them smarter than the blood washed dirt farmers and good ol’ boys with engine grease under their fingernails who are the backbone of what’s left of this great nation. But it is true that I come from a long line of Sharlitans. Incidentally, my first name is also prominent in our family. A lot of my people have been called Phucker over the decades.   

Ghost: Well, I am sure you will continue your fine work with us. Let me ask you a little bit about your investigative work. How do you manage to bring to light what most of the rest of the world overlooks?

Sharlitan: You have heard the old saying, “the truth is out there.” Well, sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t. When you can’t find the truth, a good investigative journalist makes the truth. That isn’t always easy because the lying liberal media is always out there confusing the issues with facts. So you have to always be thinking, always on your feet and ready with alternative facts. That’s the only way to keep the radical, liberal press on its heals. When you have a compelling theory, you don’t need facts.

Ghost: Tell us a little bit about what you mean by “alternative facts.”

Sharlitan: Sure. What liberals will never understand is that there is not simply one set of facts that is always true. Truth isn’t some singular absolute. There’s your truth and there’s my truth. The real truth, though, is what is believed. As one great statesman put it, “If you tell a big enough lie and tell it frequently enough, it will be believed.”

Ghost: Uh, wasn’t that Adolph Hitler?

Sharlitan: Whatever. So an alternative fact has as much a potential for becoming the truth as anything some hack reporter digs up. It’s all a matter of what is most credible to your audience. I deal in the coin of credibility. Facts are of little importance.

Ghost: Can you tell us a little bit about your investigative techniques, where you get your leads and and how you make your connections?

Sharlitan: Investigative journalism has changed over the last couple of decades. Used to be, we were always out on the beat. And believe me, we worked hard. Every day we had to trek down to the Walmart check-out line and read the tabloids. We had to read fast, too. If we stood around too long the cashier would insist that we buy them. It’s much easier these days. Now I just sit at my desk and surf the internet. It’s all online.

Ghost: You get your stories from the internet?

Sharlitan: Sure. That is where all the really interesting stuff is. Without the internet, we wouldn’t know about Clinton’s & Soros’ child trafficking; Hugo Chaves’ colluding with Dominion to steal the 2020 election; the alien DNA being injected into the phony vaccine for the phony Covid-19 pandemic; the plot by radical environmentalists to install cancer causing windmills all over the country; wok educators’ plans to eradicate Christianity by teaching our kids socialism, radical feminism and CRT. You won’t find that on the major networks.

Ghost: Do you ever fact check your internet sources?

Sharlitan: What did I just tell you about facts? They aren’t important enough to waste time checking. Besides, it’s not my job. Look, for too long the burden of proof has unfairly been placed on journalists to prove that their stories are true. As far as I’m concerned, it’s the job of anyone who doubts my word to prove it false.  

Ghost: I see. So tell us about some other matters you plan to investigate.

Sharlitan: I have a long list of lies, subterfuges and schemes I intend to expose. Like all the fake moon landings in the 60s and 70s; the alien bodies held at area 51 in Roswell; the modern school curricula that is responsible for de-masculinizing boys and brainwashing girls into thinking they are as smart as men; and the raid of President Donald Trump’s Mara Logo residence to plant fake classified documents and retrieve Hillary Clinton’s missing e-mails…wow! Don’t get me started. The woks are turning everything true American’s hold dear upside down and backwards. There are so many different angles from which America is under attack that nobody is seeing!

Ghost: Well, once again, welcome the staff of Kierkegaard’s Ghost. We look forward to getting more from your pen. 

**************************************************************

FAKE NEWS ALERT: The above article is satirical. The events it describes didn’t happen.  “There are people who will say that this whole account is a lie, but a thing isn’t necessarily a lie even if it didn’t necessarily happen.” John Steinbeck

SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY

Isaiah 49:1-7

Psalm 40:1-11

1 Corinthians 1:1-9

John 1:29-42

Prayer of the Day: Holy God, our strength and our redeemer, by your Spirit hold us forever, that through your grace we may worship you and faithfully serve you, follow you and joyfully find you, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.

[The Lord} says, “It is too light a thing that you should be my servant
   to raise up the tribes of Jacob
   and to restore the survivors of Israel;
I will give you as a light to the nations,
   that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.”

Thus says the Lord,
   the Redeemer of Israel and his Holy One,
to one deeply despised, abhorred by the nations,
   the slave of rulers,
“Kings shall see and stand up,
   princes, and they shall prostrate themselves,
because of the Lord, who is faithful,
   the Holy One of Israel, who has chosen you.” Isaiah 49:6-7.

The doctrine of election-or some might say predestination-has always been a tough theological nut. It was the topic of many heated theological debates during my seminary years.[1] On the one hand, Martin Luther seemed to leave no room for free will when it comes to faith in Jesus Christ in his profound work, The Bondage of the Well. Yet Scripture is filled with calls to repentance and acts of faith that seemingly call for a decision. It seems as though we are free agents capable of making decisions that affect our lives. We select our mates. We choose our career paths. We decide what we will order from the menu. Of course, scientists in the fields of psychiatry often challenge our assumptions about how much of our will is actually “free” and how much is neurologically hardwired or environmentally conditioned. If we are honest, we will probably have to admit that we are not as free and independent as we like to believe. But however much or little we are free to decide on our own, when it comes to being a child of God, God is the one and only one who does the choosing. “You did not choose me,” says Jesus. “I chose you.” John 15:16. Luther was right on that point.

That is enormously comforting. God knows that my choices have too often been selfish, misguided and foolish. Moreover, I have made not a few promises I failed to keep. If my status as God’s child were to depend on my own choice and willful determination, it would forever be in doubt. But because adoption as God’s children rests not on our faith, but God’s faithfulness, it is possible to rest confidently in the “love that will not let me go.”[2] As Paul assures us, God’s call is irrevocable-both to Israel and to the Church. Romans 11:29.

But there is a dark side to this theological principal as well. What about people who do not respond in faith to the good news about Jesus? Have they been destined to disbelief even as believers have been predestined to faith in Jesus? It seems to follow that, if one cannot believe without God’s election, one who cannot believe must not be elected. Can you blame someone for not doing the impossible? Moreover, love “that will not let go” can sound a little bit creepy, especially to those of us who have survived controlling parenting or possessive/abusive relationships. If I am powerless to say “no,” in what sense is grace loving?

Part of the problem, I believe, rests with the assumption that being “chosen” or “elected” equates with privilege. Those called by God are selected from among a condemned humanity on a planet destined to destruction, or so the thinking goes. The elect are the few for whom there are a finite number of seats on the lifeboats of a sinking ship. But our lesson from Isaiah makes clear that God is not interested in saving a few souls from a sinking ship. That would be “too light a thing.” God means to save the ship. John the Evangelist does not tell us God so loved Christians or God so loved the Church that God sent God’s only Son. God so loved the world. John 3:16. The eternal life God promises to believers is not only eternal in duration, but in quality. Faith, hope and love, Saint Paul tells us, endure forever. I Corinthians 13:13. Participation in these three is participation in life that is eternal.

The above cited passage from Sunday’s lesson from the Hebrew Scriptures makes clear that God’s redemptive purpose is for all “the nations” to which Israel is given as a “light.” God’s redemptive acts in and through this non-nation of “slaves” will demonstrate to the nations God’s solidarity with those living at the margins and God’s determination to raise them up. By exalting the people “deeply despised and abhorred by the nations,” God turns the nations’ notion of power, might and glory on its head. When the nations’ finally understand that the power of God is not an outsized version of military, commercial or class might, but noncoercive compassion that wins the day through passionate though patient love, they will be brought to their knees in worship. They will learn that justice, compassion and mercy are the hallmarks of leadership and that God alone is the only true monarch. To be elected by God, then, is to be sent as a “servant” and a “light” to the nations. Thus, election is not from the world, but for the world.  

In sum, God’s election of disciples in Christ Jesus through baptism and the faith that follows does not imply that those outside this baptismal covenant have been rejected or that they are destined to be “lost.” If we take seriously what Jesus tells us in the third chapter of John’s gospel, we have to know that God’s salvation is much bigger than the church. To be chosen or elected is to be sent, as was Jesus, into a world that God loves and is determined to save in order that this world might know God’s deep and enduring love for it. John 20:21.

“I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ or come to him,” says Martin Luther in his Small Catechism. So, does free will play any part in coming to faith in Jesus Christ? Were Andrew, Peter, Philip and Nathaniel irresistibly drawn to Jesus? Or did they, at some level, make a conscious choice to follow him? That depends, I suppose, on how you define your terms. No descision is ever entirely free. There are obvious parameters within which our wills must function. We cannot will the earth to stop turning on its axis. Choices we can make are influenced by learned prejudices, mixed motives, fears and hopes of which we might not even be aware. Circumstances sometimes force us to make decisions with which we are not at peace. By contrast, God’s determination to redeem God’s creation stems from God’s very essence, love. As the cross and resurrection of Jesus illustrate, God cannot be deterred from that purpose by any of the evil we throw in God’s direction. Perhaps, then, it is enough to be assured that God works “in, with and under” all the false starts, wrong turns and mistakes we make in our ignorant willfulness to accomplish what God wishes to accomplish in our lives. To that degree, I suppose you could say that we are predestined to be swept up into God’s will in spite of our own. But once it is understood that to be chosen by God is not a mark of favoritism, but a call to particpation in God’s redeemtive work for all creation, the debate over free will versus predestination is rendered more academic than existential.

Here is a poem about calling, election and vocation.

Your Calling

(Father to daughter)

Let no one tell you, girl,

          that the mountain is too high,

the evil too deeply entrenched,

          the valley too steep

or that it’s too far to the sky.

          Let no one say, my child,

that your dreams are too big,

          that you are too small,

that what your heart knows is right

          can never be and so ignore its call.

Let no man convince you to be practical

          or chide you for lacking common sense.

For it just may be that God’s been waiting

          endless ages for someone

blind to conventional wisdom,

          someone bold enough to be good

rather than merely successful,

          someone brave enough to be compassionate

instead of simply strong,

          someone who would rather die

for a good cause than live for none at all.

          So ignore all the words of caution

and shut out all well meaning advice.

          Silience the timid voice of warning

and listen with your whole heart to the call.  

Source: Anonymous

---

[1] For an exhaustive discussion of this doctrine and its profound influence on American Christianity, see Predestination: The American Career of a Contentious Doctrine, Thuesen, Peter J., (c. 2009 by Oxford University Press).

[2] “Oh Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go,” by George Matheson and found in the Service Book and Hymnal, (c. 1958 American Evangelical Lutheran Church; American Lutheran Church; Augustana Evangelical Lutheran Church; Finnish Evangelical Lutheran Church in America; Lutheran Free Church; United Evangelical Lutheran Church; United Lutheran Church in America). Hymn # 402. See full text at Timeless Truths Free Online Library. Sadly, this fine hymn did not make the cut for subsequent Lutheran hymnals.   

BAPTISM OF OUR LORD

Isaiah 42:1-9

Psalm 29

Acts 10:34-43

Matthew 3:13-17

Prayer of the Day: O God our Father, at the baptism of Jesus you proclaimed him your beloved Son and anointed him with the Holy Spirit. Make all who are baptized into Christ faithful to their calling to be our daughters and sons, and empower us all with your Spirit, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
   my chosen, in whom my soul delights;
I have put my spirit upon him;
   he will bring forth justice to the nations.
He will not cry or lift up his voice,
   or make it heard in the street;
a bruised reed he will not break,
   and a dimly burning wick he will not quench;
   he will faithfully bring forth justice.
He will not grow faint or be crushed
   until he has established justice in the earth;
   and the coastlands wait for his teaching. Isaiah 42:1-4.

There is plenty of crying out these days, not only in the streets, but over the airwaves and throughout the worldwide web. Many of these cries are urgent, warning of imminent destruction to our democracy, our environment and the economy. Others spread outlandish conspiracy theories. Some peddle miracle cures for chronic ailments, fool proof strategies for getting rich quick, instant weight loss programs and just about anything else that will sell. Of course, in every election cycle there is no shortage of promises-along with a good deal of mudslinging-trumpeted by political candidates crying out and vying for our votes. Sadly, there are voices crying out in politics, religion and entertainment that prey upon our basest instincts, appealing to the sickness of racial hate and white resentment so deeply impressed on the American psyche. In all of this crying out and screaming, how is the “teaching” for which the coastlands wait to be heard? Who will even notice the servant of the Lord’s strong but quiet voice?

Social media gets the blame for a lot of what ails our public discourse these days. While there is no denying that the internet has been used to promote violent and hateful ideologies, incite mob violence and spread dangerous falsehoods, the same is true for radio, television and old fashioned print media. On the other side of the ledger, there are positive aspects of social media that should be recognized. For one thing, social media gives a voice to many people previously left out of public discourse. Blogging opens up an avenue for ordinary people who believe they have much to contribute, but lack the social contacts, time and resources to “get published” on traditional media gain a public audience. That has contributed to diversity of opinion and new perspectives in the public square. I also note that online discussions level the playing field between extroverts used to controlling the direction and flow of discourse and introverts who find it hard to get a word in edgewise. Discussions online allow for one to pause, reflect and respond in ways more thoughtful than would be possible in the heat of in person conversations. (Though, to be sure, far too few take advantage of this opportunity!). Still, we are left with the question: how in this cacophonous tangle of chatter is the voice of the Lord to be heard?

It may be that the public square, real or virtual, is not the place where one ought to be listening for God’s Word. Perhaps you need to get away from the noise of the public square in order to hear what God is saying. That, in any event, is how the voice of the Lord makes its first appearance in the gospels. John the Baptist appears “in the wilderness.” His voice is not heard in the precincts of the Temple in Jerusalem or in the Roman senate. Yet his voice pulled people from the orbit of those centers of power to the margins of imperial society where God’s reign was beginning to dawn.

Profound change often begins in small ways and outside the focus of network news. A small congregation in the Midwest was approached by a youth leader with a request to use the sanctuary’s basement to meet with children and teens experiencing bullying at school. Such a request would have been uncontroversial-except that the children were transgender/non gender conforming. The council of this conservative rural congregation was skeptical-until the youth leader began to share some of the stories of individual children and the pain they were enduring. “Hell,” said one member of the council. “No kid should be treated like that! I don’t see a problem with giving them a safe place to be-if that’s all it is.”

At first, the group of young people met on a weekday afternoon where their paths seldom crossed with members of the church. But then one day when some women from the congregation came down to prepare for the annual Christmas fair, they discovered the young people meeting in the basement. They shared some of the cookies they had baked with the children who, in turn, were glad to assist in setting up for the event. The next day, a group of teens from the group showed up to help the trustees set up the church’s Christmas decorations. Through occasions of camaraderie like these, relationships were built, hearts opened and minds changed. Over time, the church became known as an open, welcoming community.   

Public discussion and debate may be essential for a healthy democracy, but they seldom change minds. I never met anyone whose mind was changed by a single speech, sermon or tweet. In fact, I seldom see minds changed at all. That is because it is usually such a slow process. Minds change direction more like aircraft carriers than hydroplanes. A gentle nudge against a great ocean liner might not seem significant at first. But it has the potential to affect a dramatic change in the ship’s trajectory that will only become evident miles out to sea. Small, incremental changes, like ones seen in that little midwestern congregation, are happening all over the place. They just don’t get much coverage by the networks that are crying out and trying to tell us what is news, what matters and to what we should be paying attention. If you allow yourself to be distracted by the headlines you can wind up missing the real news happening out in the wilderness, or among squatters in a stable or in the darkness of a tomb.  

Here is a poem by Mary Oliver that reflects the same wisdom and attentiveness that could have inspired John the Baptist during his wilderness sojourning and given birth to his conviction that the reign of God was dawning.

Morning at Great Pond

It starts like this:

forks of light

slicking up

out of the east,

flying over you,

and what’s left of night-

its black waterfalls,

its craven doubt,

dissolves like gravel

as the sun appears

trailing clouds

of pink and green wool,

igniting the fields,

turning the ponds

to plates of fire.

The creatures there

are dark flickerings

you make out

one by one

as the light lifts-

great blue herrons

wood ducks shaking

their shimmering crests-

and knee deep

in the purple shallows

a deer drinking;

as the turns

the silver water

crushes the silk

shaking the sky,

and you’re healed then

from the night, your heart

wants more, you’re ready

to rise and look!

to hurry anywhere!

to believe in everything.

Source: American Primitive, Oliver, Mary, (c. 1983 by Mary Oliver; pub. by Black Bay Books/Little, Brown and Company) p. 46-47. Mary Oliver was born in 1935 in Maple Heights, Ohio. She was deeply influenced by poet, Edna St. Vincent Millay. Her work received early critical attention with the 1983 publication of a collection of poems entitled American Primitive. She is a recipient of both the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry and the National Book Award. You can read more about Mary Oliver and sample some of her other poems at the Poetry Foundation Website.

NAME OF JESUS

Numbers 6:22-27

Psalm 8

Philippians 2:5-11

Luke 2:15-21

Prayer of the Day: Eternal Father, you gave your incarnate Son the holy name of Jesus to be a sign of our salvation. Plant in every heart the love of the Savior of the world, Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“After eight days had passed, it was time to circumcise the child; and he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb.” Luke 2:21.

What’s in a name? Early on in life my name was not my friend. In every neighborhood somebody, it seems, has to be that one weird kid that gets picked on. I am not sure how that particular honor fell to me. But somehow, it did. One of the many indignities I had to endure as a result was the twisting of my name with suffixes like “cotton tail,” “pumpkin eater” and “rabbit.” Those were the milder epitaphs. My name also unfortunately lent itself to a number of obscene permutations denoting the male genitals. Exasperated, I one day asked my Mom, “How come you had to name me Peter!” Her reply stuck with me my whole life.

“Your Dad and me named you Peter after Jesus’ disciple,” said Mom. “The one he trusted the most and who became a bold leader of the early church. He was also the disciple who let Jesus down when Jesus needed him most. I hope that name will keep you humble in your success and confident enough in God’s forgiveness to pick yourself up when you fail and try again.” I can’t honestly say that I came away from that exchange with a new found love for my name. I still longed to be John, Bill or anyone else with a ridicule resistant name. But I never forgot what Mom said to me about my name and, over time, it helped to shape my thinking about God as the giver of the second chance. I don’t doubt that at some point Mary, Joseph or perhaps both of them had a similar conversation with Jesus about his name, where it came from and why it landed on him.

It is a great power God has given to us human beings, the power to name. It was first given to Adam at the dawn of creation. Genesis 2:19. The names we give our children, the names of our towns, city streets and landmark buildings say a lot about who we are, what we believe and the things we value. They spell out our relationships to others and connect us to prior generations. Names can be a source of pride and self esteem. They can inspire us to become more than ever imagined we could be.

Sadly, that is only half the story. The power of naming can also be destructive. During my high school years, getting stuck with a name like “homo,” “fag” or “queer” made you a target for cruel and relentless teasing, harassment, humiliation and even violence. Racial epitaphs like the “N word” dehumanize whole groups of people. Labeling someone a “right winger,” “snowflake,” “communist” or “radical” boxes them into a narrow prison of one’s own preconceived stereotypes, making it impossible to listen to or hear what they are really saying. Naming becomes a demonic power when it is used to divide and create hostility rather than to heal and unite. I believe that our lessons for this Sunday are calling us to reclaim the divine power of naming for the holy cause of God’s just, righteous and compassionate reign.

I know of a pastor who greats his congregation with the words, “Good morning beautiful children of God.” The first time I heard it, it struck me as just a bit too shmaltzy. On further reflection, however, I believe that, notwithstanding my own liturgical prejudices, he is right on target. Saint Paul could wax every bit as eloquently about the love he had for his congregations, to whom he often referred as his “children.” Of course, we know that Paul’s congregations were often anything but beautiful. The church in Corinth is a case in point, riven as it was with power struggles, factionalism, sex scandals, doctrinal disputes and money issues. Yet Paul can name this congregation the Body of Christ. “Now you are,” says Paul, “the Body of Christ.” Not, “you should be the Body of Christ” or “maybe someday you will be the Body of Christ-if you ever manage to get your act together.” Paul says, present indicative, to this sad puppy of a church, “You are the Body of Christ.” I Corinthians 12:27.

There is a particularly striking passage from Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wind Through the Door that I think captures the power of naming. For those of you unfamiliar with that remarkable young adult novel, the protagonist Meg seeks to uncover the cause of her younger brother, Charles’ critical illness. She and her boyfriend Calvin join forces with a friendly cherubim named Progo in facing a series of ordeals, completion of which will lead them to the answer they seek. Progo, the cherubim, suggests to Meg that she might have been called to be a Namer.

“Well, then, if I’m a Namer, what does that mean? What does a Namer do?”

The [cherubim’s] wings drew together, the eyes closed, singly, and then in groups, until all were shut. Small puffs of mist-like smoke rose, swirled about him. “When I was memorizing the names of stars, part of the purpose was to help them each to be more particularly the particular star each one was supposed to be. That’s basically a Namer’s job. Maybe you’re supposed to make earthlings feel more human.”[1]

God is the ultimate name giver. God named Abraham and Sarah. God named Israel. God names each one of us in baptism, “…you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.

Once you were not a people,
   but now you are God’s people;
once you had not received mercy,
   but now you have received mercy. I Peter 2:9-10.

Naming is the way in which God holds the world together against all the forces of evil that would rip it apart. Naming is a powerful way of reminding us that we are better than what we too often imagine. It is important, I believe, to use this great God-given power in a constructive way wherever and whenever we can. Those obligatory name tags grocery store employees are compelled to wear make this easy. It is important to tell the cashier, “Thanks, Kim. Have great holiday.” It is important to say, “Thanks, Jim for bagging.” Calling people by name lets them know that we recognize their humanity. It acknowledges that these individuals are not simply cogs in the wheels of commerce, but people with stories, connections and lives that matter. Naming these people lets them know that the work they do is important and appreciated. It becomes harder to hate when you know a person’s name. Harder still when you begin to understand the meaning of that name. Naming builds bridges across borders, between enemies and over seemingly irreconcilable differences. There is so very much in a name!

Here is a poem by Helen Hoyt about the power of calling one by name.

Name

My name is beautiful to me when you say it;

A new name.

No one ever had this name before:

Your voice changes it.

It is a new name,

Sacred:

Never till now spoken, or any touch laid on it.

Source: Poetry, (December 1918). Helen Hoyt (1887-1972) was born in Norwalk, Connecticut. She attended Miss Baird’s School for Girls in Norwalk, Connecticut and later earned an A.B. at Barnard College. In 1921, she married fellow poet William Whittingham Lyman Jr. Early in her career, Hoyt was an Associate Editor of the journal Poetry. Several of her articles and poems were published within that magazine from 1913 to 1936. Hoyt also edited the September 1916 edition of Others: A Magazine of the New Verse. Other magazines to publish her work include The Egoist and The Masses. In addition to her own collections, her work has also been published in notable anthologies of her times, including The New Poetry: An Anthology (1917), The Second Book of Modern Verse (1920), Silver Pennies: Modern Poems for Boys and Girls (1925), May Days (1926) and The Best Poems of 1931. You can find out more about Helen Hoyt and sample more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation web site.

---

[1] L’Engle, Madeleine, A Wind Through the Door, (c. 1973 by Crosswicks, Ltd.) p. 78.

NATIVITY OF OUR LORD

Isaiah 52:7-10

Psalm 98

Hebrews 1:1-12

John 1:1-14

Prayer of the Day: Almighty God, you gave us your only Son to take on our human nature and to illumine the world with your light. By your grace adopt us as your children and enlighten us with your Spirit, through Jesus Christ, our Redeemer and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“And the Word became flesh and lived among us…” John 1:14.

The holidays are hectic even for those of us who are retired from full time employment. I expect that you might have as little time to read as I do to write. So I will make this short and sweet.

My guess is that most of us will spend Christmas Eve at home or at the home of a loved one. I expect most of us will sleep in warm houses with comfortable sleeping arrangements. Most of us, I hope, will worship the new born king in a sanctuary surrounded by people who love us, who share our faith and would be willing to lend us a helping hand if ever we were to need it. By contrast, thousands of hungry, ill clad and homeless people will spend a cold Christmas night on the border between two countries that do not want them. They have no Christmas plans other than survival. Their future depends upon the decisions of powerful people and political forces over which they have no influence. The question that haunts me is this: in whose company are we most likely to find Jesus?

John the Evangelist’s assertion that the Word became flesh needs to be read in tandem with Matthew the Evangelist’s account of the last judgment in Matthew 25, in particular, the inquiry, “when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you…?” Matthew 25:38. The answer is now. The story of the Nativity is about homelessness, poverty, flight from political persecution and seeking refuge in a foreign land. That same old, old story is taking on human flesh as I write these words. Jesus is at the border. We either recognize and welcome him now or make that recognition too late and only on the day of judgment.

I don’t have to tell you that there is a lot of consternation and heated rhetoric surrounding immigration. There are remarks being made about migrants, their character and motives that are beneath us all. Christians don’t have to agree on matters of immigration policy or border security. But if we cannot agree that when strangers arrive at our doorstep in desperate need there can be no response other than to open our doors, then I wonder how we can call ourselves disciples of Jesus. If Luke’s parable of the Good Samaritan, Matthew’s parable of The Last Judgement and John’s bold claim that the Word became flesh mean anything, it is that responsibility for the wellbeing of our neighbors does not end at any humanly drawn border. That isn’t a liberal proposition or a conservative one. That isn’t Democratic or Republican policy. It isn’t right or left wing. It’s just Jesus.

I conclude with the words of this familiar hymn by Philip Brooks:

O holy Child of Bethlehem
Descend to us, we pray
Cast out our sin and enter in
Be born in us today
We hear the Christmas angels
The great glad tidings tell
Oh, come to us, abide with us
Our Lord Immanuel!

Jesus’ answer to this prayer is waiting at our southern border. We have only to open our home that others may find theirs; allow the holy Child of Bethlehem to descend upon us, to cast out our sins of selfishness, bigotry and fear and be born in us today.

Phillips Brooks (1835–1893) was an Episcopal priest and rector of the Church of the Holy Trinity in Philadelphia. He later took the position of rector at Trinity Church, Boston. The words of the hymn O Little Town of Bethlehem were inspired by a visit he made to the village of Bethlehem in 1865. Three years later, he wrote the text as a poem. His organist, Lewis Redner, put them to music.

Kierkegaard’s Ghost

(News that’s fake, but credible)

Spike Swindell, well known for his manufacture and sale of pet pillows, toilet seat cushions and conspiracy theories, announced today that he is expanding his business into the hot new field of alternative currencies with his new product, “My Money.” Unlike so many other such financial products, however, his is not based in cyberspace. “This isn’t crypto currency,” said Swindell, “you know, that imaginary money you can erase with a key stroke. This is real money, paper money you can hold in your hand, put in your wallet or take to the bank-well, my bank anyway. And you get $200 dollars just for being in the game!”

The concept is simple according to Swindell. “You give me your money and I give you mine.” Swindell, an honors graduate of Trump University School of Economics, claims that his currency is more valuable and safer than the U.S. dollar. “My Money is not under the control of the corrupt banking system run by deep state operatives on the Federal Reserve,” he said. “Its value is determined by the market and the market alone-with a little help from my bank.” He went on to point out that his new currency opens up endless opportunities for investment not available anywhere else. “We have a wide range of properties ready for purchase and development,” he told our Ghost  reporter. “While our high end properties, like Boardwalk and Park Place, are probably out of reach for the average investor, we also have more moderately priced lots on Mediterranean and Baltic Avenues. What’s more,” he went on to say, “all of our properties have tremendous development potential. A hotel built on Baltic Avenue can generate profits in multiples of your original investment.”

Investment opportunities are not limited to real estate. Swindell explained that My Money opens up channels for buying into utilities and railroads as well. “And the best part about it,” said Swindell, “you can rest assured that the deep state EPA won’t try to regulate what you do with your property. The FBI won’t raid your houses or hotels. The Department of Transportation won’t meddle with your trains.  You don’t pay any taxes either-unless you happen to land in the wrong place at the wrong time.” When asked whether his operations are strictly legal, Swindell hedged. “Well, we skate pretty close to the limits of the law. And sometimes we go over. Sure, you can end up in jail playing this game. But just like everywhere else in America, you can buy your way out if you have the funds. Why, with the right connections, we can get you out of jail scott-free. It’s kind of like a presidential pardon.”

Many high profile investors have praised My Money. “It’s as sure a thing as my win in 2020” said former president Donald J. Trump. “It’s as solid as my border wall,” declared former presidential strategist Steve Bannon. “It’s as genuine as my sheriff’s badge,” said Georgia senatorial candidate Herschel Walker. My Money will soon be availabe for purchase in bars, seedy hotels, outside porn shops and wherever else its agent, Rudy Giuliani, can be found.

**************************************************************

FAKE NEWS ALERT: The above article is satirical. The events it describes didn’t happen.  “There are people who will say that this whole account is a lie, but a thing isn’t necessarily a lie even if it didn’t necessarily happen.” John Steinbeck

FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER ADVENT

Isaiah 7:10-16

Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19

Romans 1:1-7

Matthew 1:18-25

Prayer of the Day: Stir up your power, Lord Christ, and come. With your abundant grace and might, free us from the sin that hinders our faith, that eagerly we may receive your promises, for you live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit.” Matthew 1:18.

By way of further testimony, Luke’s gospel tells Mary that “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God.” Luke 1:35. Traditionally, these two verses have been cited in support of the doctrines of “the virgin birth” and the “Immaculate Conception.” The former asserts that Jesus was conceived without sexual intercourse between Mary and any man. The latter asserts that Mary was “in the first instance of her conception, by a singular grace and privilege granted by Almighty God, in view of the merits of Jesus Christ, the Saviour of the human race, was preserved free from all stain of original sin.” Ineffabilis Deus, Pope Pious IX. Taken together, these doctrines purport to explain how it is that Jesus, though fully human, nevertheless remains untouched by the sin of Adam and Eve infecting all of humanity. This understanding of Jesus’ birth is deemed necessary to some understandings of Jesus’ atoning work. Jesus must have been without sin from conception to his death on the cross in order for him to be the atoning sacrifice for our sin, thereby making God’s mercy and forgiveness possible.

I have encountered numerous people who tell me that this miraculous view of Jesus’ birth is the sine qua non for genuine faith. To deny it is to reject the divinity of Jesus, the efficacy of the cross and the significance of the Resurrection. I do not for one minute wish to dismiss the possibility that Jesus was in fact so conceived. After all, I wasn’t there and, near as I can tell, neither was anyone else-except Mary and she isn’t talking. Yes, our modernistic prejudices-and that is exactly what they are-make no room for what cannot adequately be explained in scientific terms. But the latter half of the Twentieth Century has made all too clear just how shaky our modernistic assumptions spun out of the Enlightenment actually are. It turns out that human reason, culturally shaped and limited as it is, can blind as well as enlighten. A lot of beliefs that were once supported by the science of the day have proven by subsequent scientific research to have been false or at least only partially true. We are finding that the universe is far more complex than we ever imangined. More often than answers, scientific inquiry tends to raise more questions. I cannot explain how Mary’s pregnancy with Jesus could have come about apart from sexual intercourse with a man. But I can’t even explain how these letters I type find their way to my computer screen and into cyberspace. Just because something is beyond human understanding does not mean it is impossible. And, of course, “with God nothing will be impossible.”

All that being said, the gospels do not tell us anything about how Jesus was conceived. They simply affirm that, however Jesus was conceived, the Holy Spirit was working “in, with and under” the process-to use a Lutheran phrase. That is, I believe, the point of the lenghty genealogy preceeding Sunday’s gospel reading. I understand very well why the makers of the common lectionary did not include these vss. 1-17 in our reading. None of us preachers would relish reading that long list of unpronounceable names any more than our hearers would appreciate listening to it. But I believe the genealogy plays an important part in our interpretation of the captioned verse.

Note well that, after tracing the lineage of Joseph from Abraham through David and finally to his own father, the gospel goes on to say, “Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way…”  The account that follows makes clear that Joseph’s genealogy is irrelevant. If anybody’s genealogy matters, it is Mary’s. But we know nothing about that. Jesus’ conception thus involves a break in Matthew’s carefully reconstructed genealogy. Upon closer inspection however, Joseph’s genealogy is itself somewhat broken. First of all, the line is traced through Perez, born to the patriarch Judah by Tamar through prostitution and in a manner bordering on incest. See Genesis 38 for the sordid details. Second, Boaz the grandfather of King David sired the king’s father Jesse by the Canaanite prostitute, Rahab. Matthew 1:5. Third, David’s royal successor Solomon sprang from an adulterous relationship between the king and his general’s wife, Bathsheba. Matthew 1:6. Far from immaculate, the Spirit’s involvement in this line of biblical ancestors involves some very sordid circumstances. Thus, the angel’s assurance to Joseph that Mary’s conception was through the work of the Holy Spirit might not have been all that comforting to him.

Am I suggesting that Mary was unfaithful or somehow became pregnant through an illicit or perhaps abusive sexual relationship? No. That, too, would be mere speculation. Again, I do not know how Jesus was conceived by the Holy Spirit of the Virgin Mary. I only know that he was. That is enough. I would add, however, that it is comforting to me that God is able to work creatively and redemptively through flawed, broken and shattered human relationships. It is comforting to know that God sees more in my confused, conflicted and often misdirected life than I do. It is comforting to know that the flesh which the Word becomes is nail scarred, wounded and subject to death. That is comforting because my life and the world in which I live is far from immaculate. So, it is good to know that the God we worship and trust is not afraid to get dirty in handling us. However that mystery we call the Incarnation occurred, through it we discover Emmanuel, “God with us.”

Here is a poem by Jane Kenyon with a unique perspective on the Incarnation.

Mosaic of the Nativity: Serbia, 1993

On the doomed ceiling
God is thinking:
I made them my joy,
and everything else I created
I made to bless them.
But see what the do?
I know their hearts
and arguments:

We’re descended from
Cain. Evil is nothing new,
so what does it matter now
if we shell the infirmary,
and the well where the fearful
and the rash alike must
come for water?”

God thinks Mary into being.
Suspended at the apogee
of the golden dome,
she curls in a brown pod,
and inside her the mind
of Christ, cloaked in blood,
lodges and begins to grow.

Source: Poetry, December 1995. Jane Kenyon (1947-1995) was born in Ann Arbor, Michigan. She attended the University of Michigan in her hometown and completed her master’s degree there in 1972. It was there also that she met her husband, the poet Donald Hall, who taught there. Kenyon moved with Hall to Eagle Pond Farm, in New Hampshire where she lived until her untimely death in 1995 at age 47. You can read more of Jane Kenyon’s poetry and find out more about her at the Poetry Foundation Website.

THIRD SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Isaiah 35:1-10

Luke 1:46-55

James 5:7-10

Matthew 11:2-11

Prayer of the Day: Stir up the wills of all who look to you, Lord God, and strengthen our faith in your coming, that, transformed by grace, we may walk in your way; through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offence at me.” Matthew 12:4-6.

That well may be. But John the Baptist is still in prison and, for all we know, the henchmen dispatched from Herod’s birthday party are on their way to relieve him of his head. Though Mary sings of tyranny being uprooted and the hungry filled with good things as though it were a fait accompli, her people are still firmly under the boot heel of Rome. Isaiah prophesied that a paradisal highway would rise up from the desert paving the way for Judean exiles’ return from Babylonian captivity to their homeland. Though the exiles did manage to return, they did not find the promised highway-just desert. The lessons for today are rich in promises that have, at best, been only partially fulfilled. They are hardly enough to inspire euphoric enthusiasm, but perhaps they give us enough to keep the spark of hope alive. Sometimes that is all we get. It is not all we might ask for. But it is enough. It has to be.

The trouble with signs is that they are not definitive. They point to something that is not yet present or complete. Every person Jesus healed, raised from death or gladdened with the promise of good news eventually died without seeing the day promised by Isaiah when

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened,
   and the ears of the deaf unstopped;
then the lame shall leap like a deer,
   and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.
For waters shall break forth in the wilderness,
   and streams in the desert;
the burning sand shall become a pool,
   and the thirsty ground springs of water…” Isaiah 35:5-7.

Signs do not prove anything. Jesus’ miracles did not convince his critics who witnessed them firsthand. Those of us who receive the good news from the witness of the prophets and apostles have even a stronger basis for doubting it. Like poor John, we receive news about the inbreaking of God’s reign as we wait in the darkness of our present bondage.

Or perhaps not. There are events occurring all around us that might be signs. This September two planes carrying migrants from across our southern border were sent by Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis to the island of Martha’s Vineyard in Massachusetts. These migrants were evidently rounded up by the governor’s agents, some apparently from neighboring Texas. Neither the governor of Massachusetts nor the local authorities were notified in advance of these transports. It is evident to me, as I think it must be to any fair minded observer, that the Florida governor’s action was a crual and blatant act of political theater designed to ingratiate himself to the most vile and racist elements of his constituency, a tactic occurring with depressing regularity these days. But what happened next is truly remarkable. Residents from across Martha’s Vineyard and other parts of the country raised more than $175,000 after the migrants’ arrival. There were some large donations consisting of multiple thousands of dollars, but most of the donations made for the migrants were contributions between $50 to $100 from churches, civic organizations and local citizens. So many donations of food, clothing and other necessities were received that the drop-off point for charitable donations had to be relocated to the fire department.

Is this a sign? Does it remind us that the future does not belong to tyrants like Herod and Governor DeSantis? Is this a sign of God’s just and gentle reign breaking through the structures of systemic racism and nationalistic idolatry into the hearts of ordinary people? I would love to know how John responded to Jesus’ message. Did he recognize in all that he heard about Jesus the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophesy? Or did he dismiss it as just one more futile protest against a ruthless regime of oppression? Matthew’s gospel does not answer that question for us. Perhaps that is because we are supposed to ponder it for ourselves.

When all is said and done, only faith can recognize a sign of God’s reign. For those who believe that God raised Jesus from death, for those who know that the future is God’s future, for those who understand that tomorrow belongs to the meek, the peace makers, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness and justice, those who open their homes and hearts with hospitality, what happened with Jesus’ ministry and what recently occurred on the Island of Martha’s Vineyard are signs that God’s Incarnate Word dwells among us. They are signs that God’s Spirit is at work moving the hearts of people to acts of mercy, compassion and justice. They are signs that God’s parental providence is moving the world closer to God’s just, gentle and peaceful reign.

Here is a poem by Marilyn Nelson relating an incident that might well qualify as a sign of God’s inbreaking reign.  

Minor Miracle

Which reminds me of another knock-on-wood   

memory. I was cycling with a male friend,

through a small midwestern town. We came to a 4-way   

stop and stopped, chatting. As we started again,   

a rusty old pick-up truck, ignoring the stop sign,   

hurricaned past scant inches from our front wheels.   

My partner called, “Hey, that was a 4-way stop!”   

The truck driver, stringy blond hair a long fringe

under his brand-name beer cap, looked back and yelled,

                “You fucking niggers!”

And sped off.

My friend and I looked at each other and shook our heads.   

We remounted our bikes and headed out of town.   

We were pedaling through a clear blue afternoon   

between two fields of almost-ripened wheat   

bordered by cornflowers and Queen Anne’s lace   

when we heard an unmuffled motor, a honk-honking.   

We stopped, closed ranks, made fists.

It was the same truck. It pulled over.

A tall, very much in shape young white guy slid out:   

greasy jeans, homemade finger tattoos, probably   

a Marine Corps boot-camp footlockerful   

of martial arts techniques.

“What did you say back there!” he shouted.   

My friend said, “I said it was a 4-way stop.   

You went through it.”

“And what did I say?” the white guy asked.   

“You said: ‘You fucking niggers.’”

The afternoon froze.

“Well,” said the white guy,

shoving his hands into his pockets

and pushing dirt around with the pointed toe of his boot,   

“I just want to say I’m sorry.”

He climbed back into his truck

and drove away.

Source: The Fields of Praise: New and Selected Poems, (c. 1994, 1995, 1996, 1997 by Marilyn Nelson; pub. by Louisiana State University Press). Marilyn Nelson (b. 1946) is an American poet, translator, and children’s book author. She is a professor emeritus at the University of Connecticut and a former poet laureate of Connecticut. She was born in Cleveland, Ohio, to Melvin M. Nelson, a U.S. serviceman in the Air Force, and Johnnie Mitchell Nelson, a teacher. She grew up on military bases and began writing while in elementary school. She earned a B.A. from the University of California-Davis, an M.A. from the University of Pennsylvania in 1970 and a Ph.D. from the University of Minnesota in 1979. She is the recipient of numerous prizes, awards and fellowships. You can read more about Marilyn Nelson and sample more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

SECOND SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Isaiah 11:1-10

Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19

Romans 15:4-13

Matthew 3:1-12

Prayer of the Day: Stir up our hearts, Lord God, to prepare the way of your only Son. By his coming nurture our growth as people of repentance and peace; through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“….for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord
   as the waters cover the sea.” Isaiah 11:9.

This passage cannot properly be understood from the English translation that substitutes “Lord” for the divine name YAHWEH. To fully understand what it means to have “knowledge of the Lord,” we need to go all the way back to the third chapter of Exodus where God reveals God’s self to Moses in the burning bush as “the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.” This is the God of Sarah and Abraham who fled their homeland to escape starvation and were so desperate to get across the border into Egypt that they were willing to trade sexual favors to obtain refuge. This is the God who told Moses, “I will be who I will be” and was the God who took the side of slaves against the wealth, power and status of empire. This God is no mere theological abstraction. This God reveals God’s self consistently as the God who takes the side of the slave and the refugee.

So what would the world look like if everyone were privy to such “knowledge?” What if everyone believed that God’s face can only be seen clearly in the faces of the poor, hungry and oppressed? What if we all knew that God cannot be offended, blasphemed or disgraced by damage done to any shrine, icon, or church building, but is offended, blasphemed and disgraced in the death of every person through violence, malice or neglect? What if we believed that there is no god other than the God who hangs on an implement of torture and bleeds for the reign of justice and peace where there are no closed borders, no gated communities no streets strewn with the sleeping homeless?

Isaiah answers that question for us.

“The wolf shall live with the lamb,
   the leopard shall lie down with the kid,
the calf and the lion and the fatling together,
   and a little child shall lead them.
The cow and the bear shall graze,
   their young shall lie down together;
   and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp,
   and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den.
They will not hurt or destroy
   on all my holy mountain…”  Isaiah 11:6-9.

Anyone reading this, both in our own time and that of the prophet, has to know that this is hyperbolic imagery. Clearly, lions cannot survive long on straw and without predators to keep their numbers down, herbivores would soon strip the land of vegetation bringing about all manner of ecological disaster. Nonetheless, the prophet’s hymn testifies to the harmony within humanity and between humanity and the natural world God intends. Neither the world nor any part of it is the possession of any nation state to be sealed off and guarded against trespass. The so called “wilderness” is not an enemy to be conquered, brought into submission and exploited for profit. The earth is not a dead ball of limited resources to be ruthlessly drained and fought over by competing national and economic powers. The earth belongs to the Lord-more specifically, the God of slaves and refugees. Human beings are here, not to dominate and exploit the earth, but “to till and keep it.” Genesis 2:15. We are the gardeners, not the owners of the estate.[1]      

I have no doubt that Jesus’ preaching of God’s reign was deeply informed by Isaiah’s proclamation and other prophetic texts like it. The Sermon on the Mount set forth in Matthew’s gospel is not an ideal to which we can aspire but never attain. It is a blueprint for the life Jesus lived, a life that led him to the cross. Ironically, I remember a man in a Bible study on the Sermon remark, “If I tried to conduct my business like that, I’d get crucified!” I don’t remember what I actually said in response. But I should have simply replied, “Well, yes. And your point is?” The reign of God does not come without struggle, suffering and sacrifice.  

Enter, John the Baptizer. He has got some choice words for the scribes and pharisees[2] who came to him for baptism:

“You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruit worthy of repentance. Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.” Matthew 3:7-8.

The scribes and the pharisees are not being turned away. To the contrary, they are being called to repentance. They have misconstrued their association with Abraham as privilege. They have forgotten that they are the descendants of aliens and slaves, non-persons who by God’s call and saving acts have been made God’s people. To be children of Abraham is to be in solidarity with the tax collectors, harlots and the rest of humanity living on the margins. Repentance for these folks means renouncing privilege in order to embrace their identity as God’s suffering people whose lives glorify a different understanding of what it is to be human.

I think we ought not to be too critical of the scribes and the pharisees. After all, few religions have enjoyed the privilege and status known by white American protestants. Notwithstanding the constitutional separation of church and state, the church in its white protestant manifestations has exercised profound influence over American society. Our clergy were exempt from military conscription, our organizations are free from taxation, we are permitted to discriminate, segregate and exclude in ways no commercial entity can. Given this reality, it is nothing short of comical to hear white evangelical leaders like Franklin Graham whining about persecution.[3] Like the scribes and the pharisees John confronts, we are called upon to renounce our privilege and to “know” that we are the disciples of a crucified messiah from the God of slaves, refugees and aliens. That, of course, changes everything.

I believe that John’s challenge to us as white protestant Christians is to find ways to disengage from our privileged status.[4] That might sound rather frightening. But, in reality, there is no real choice in the matter. “For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” Matthew 16:25. We can relinquish our privileged position and renounce our belief in the god who we imagine has blessed us with privilege, or we can have our privilege ripped away from us as we desperately and vainly try to hang onto it. Only empty hands can receive the promise of abundant and eternal life.  

Here is a poem by Samuel French Morse inspired by Sunday’s lesson from Isaiah.

The Peaceable Kingdom

He looked up, like a savage: nothing there,

No starlight, not a star to help him now.

And nowwhere else to turn. He held his ground

For some sure sign or word, and tried to see.

He caught a flicker, as of fireflies

High up, then farther off; the summer air

Stirred once, still warm around him, Then the night

Was all there was between him and the past.

But what he saw out there was more than light:

A hand as broad as heaven reaching down

To touch eternity gave something shape

And being and first form; the moving deep,

Then mountains, rivers, waterfalls, and plains,

And afterword the hazy grasses, trees,

Birds, beasts, and fishes; and at last a child.

And he became the very child he saw.

He watched. The child sat down beside a stream.

The lion came, the lion and the lamb

Lay down together, dozing in the sun.

The flowering trees were full of singing birds

He called by name, and apples red as blood.

But when he touched the leopard with his hand,

To prophesy before Isaiah’s law,

He drew back, frightened; and the lion roared.

He stood in darkness, like the man he was.

Source: Poetry (May 1958). Samuel French Morse (1916–1985) was an American poet and teacher. He had a poetry prize named in his honor which lasted from 1983–2009. For twenty three years he taught at Northeastern University. He published five poetry collections during his lifetime and ninety of his previously unpublished poems were published posthumously. He lived in Boston until his death in 1985. You can learn more about Samuel French Mores and read more of his poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

---

[1] The command given to the human race in Genesis to “fill the earth and subdue it” has been the source of much mischief. Standing alone, this verse might lead one to believe that humans are free to do whatever they wish with the planet. But this verse does not stand alone. It has a context. We need to recall that the Hebrew word “CABASH” translated in Genesis 1:28 as “subdue” is the same word employed in God’s command for Israel to subdue the land of Canaan. Numbers 32:22; Numbers 32:29; Joshua 18:1. The subjugation of the land meant more than merely driving out Israel’s enemies. Very specific commands were given to Israel directing the people to care for the land and its non-human inhabitants. For example, trees were to be spared from the ravages of war. Deuteronomy 20:19-20. Egg producing birds were to be spared from slaughter. Deuteronomy 22:6-7. The sabbath rest mandated for all human beings, from king to servant, extended also to animals. Exodus 23:12. Moreover, the land itself was to be given a year’s sabbath rest from cultivation every seven years. Exodus 23:10-11. God was worshiped not only as the provider for human beings, but for all living creatures. Psalm 104:10-23. The Bible is big on ecology. In fact, insofar as the New Testament declares that God’s goal for the universe is the reconciliation of the world in Christ (II Corinthians 5:19), you could say that the Bible is all about ecology.

[2] I am mindful of the dangers of antisemitism lurking beneath so many attacks on the pharisees and scribes. Though Jesus could be critical of these folks, he also respected them and urged his disciples to do the same. Matthew 23:2-3. It is helpful to remember that all but a very few actors in the gospels are Jewish. Though disputes within a family are often sharp and bitter, the family remains family. Jesus never considered himself anything other than a faithful Jew preaching a gospel of renewal to his beloved people in the tradition of the prophets who came before him. He was crucified by Rome under Roman law for sedition. That some Jews colluded with the government of Rome in this matter does not reflect in any way on the many scribes and pharisees who loved the Torah and shared the same hope for God’s reign as did Jesus.

[3] In that regard, see An Open Letter to Rev. Franklin Graham by a “Small Church Pastor,”

[4] How do we do this? That is a very big and very important question. But for making a small start, see An Open Letter to the ELCA Presiding Bishop and Synodical Bishops: A Modest Proposal for Reparational Tithe.