Merry Christmas!

The following is an excerpt of my Christmas Eve sermon, preached at the 9 p.m. Festival Eucharist. For anyone interested, the full text of the sermon is posted on my blog, Rich's Ruminations. Merry Christmas to all! 

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The two great moments in the life of Jesus that take us to the heart of what his life was about are celebrated in the two great festivals of the liturgical year: Christmas and Easter. The two great icons of the birth and death are of a baby in a manger and of a man dying on a cross. If these two images reveal anything at all to us about the nature of the incarnate God, the suffering God, it is that God so loved the world. That is how John’s Gospel puts it. Not that God so loved the right-wing Christian zealots. And certainly not that God so hated the Jews, or the Muslims, or the gays, or the atheists, or anybody else. God so loved the world, the whole world.

But God so especially loved the little children of this world, that God gave up power and control to live and die among us to be with us and for us. There is nothing in Bethlehem or on a hill outside of Jerusalem to suggest that God is looking for ways to inflict hurt on people. Jesus comes to bring joy to the world, and peace on earth and good will to all people. That’s what the angels sing about, even if some are deaf to their songs. In his living and in his dying, Jesus shows us how to live more generous and compassionate lives. He shows us how to respond, when we pray for peace on earth: let it begin with me. He feels all our sadness and all of our gladness. Look! See how Mary cradles the Christ Child, as the tears flow down his face. There is Jesus Christ a -weeping, while his vigil they are keeping. 

Jesus most assuredly wept and weeps on this holy night with all who are grieving.  Not just those new losses that are still fresh on all of our minds, but old ones too. When I look back and consider all the funerals I’ve presided at in this parish over fifteen years, I wonder why it is that so many of them come in December: so much loss in our lives and so much sadness. So if you ask the question “where is God?” in relationship to the grief and pain that we feel tonight, then there is only one answer to that question: look to crying baby Jesus. It is the God we see in the face of this child that calls us to live life more abundantly. The God who is revealed to the shepherds and to us on this holy night is not some distant masochist who watches this all happen with glee, but a God who weeps when we weep. 

And that is the good news of this night: that we are not left comfortless. We are called as Christians, as Franciscan Christians, to sow joy where there is sadness, to sow love where there is hatred, to sow faith where there is doubt; to sow hope where there is despair. That is what these weeks of Advent have been about: recalling us to the work God has given us to do in Christ’s name. In four words that is about hope and peace and love and joy.

The late Fred Rogers (who was, if you don’t know, also a Presbyterian minister) once wrote that when he was a boy his mother told him after scary news in the world to “look for the helpers.” To look to those places where, after a disaster or tragedy, people are helping and caring. You see that both globally and locally. It’s as real here in Holden when people show up at their neighbor’s door with a casserole as it is in Newtown or on the Jersey Shore. Look to the helpers. There you see Jesus making all things new.

Monday, December 24, 2012

Tonight we will once again tell the old, old story. It is interesting, however, that even now--even this late in the Advent season, we are still expectantly waiting. And it seems to me that is only by entering more and more deeply into the Old Testament and the hopes for a messiah that we Christians discover (or at least remember) the reason for this season.

Read, if you have not already done so, the words given to us today from the 59th chapter of the prophet Isaiah. Soak those in before we get to the carols later this afternoon and tonight. "Truth is lacking," says the prophet. It displeased the Lord to look and see "that there was no justice." And that there was no one to intervene. And so the Lord (maybe a little bit like that famous "little red hen?") decides to come down and "do it myself" - to put on the breastplate of righteousness and take care of business!

It is tempting to sentimentalize "meek and mild" Jesus. All babies are meek and mild. But even tonight we should remember that this child is John the Baptist's cousin who will go out into the wilderness to sign on to what John was up to: preparing the way and making the paths straight. And even more importantly, he is strong Mary's son: this woman who will teach him to sing her daring song of praise.

We welcome the Prince of Peace as a child; and yet even as we do remember that there is no peace without justice. Both manger and cross are about God's vulnerability - which is to say that God doesn't take on justice like an invincible superhero, but by becoming one of us, one with us. But the Incarnation is not about sentimentality. It is about putting things right in the world. It is about the one who comes to Zion, and to us, as redeemer of the world.

Merry Christmas, and thanks to all who wrote devotions and to all who faithfully read them. Blessings as the days of preparation come to an end, the the twelve days of celebration begin.

Joy to the world!

(Rich Simpson)

Sunday, December 23, 2012

"May the Lord give strength to his people! May the Lord bless his people with peace!"   (Psalm 29:11)

This past week has been a rough one.  As parents, my wife Kathy and I attended to our 7-year old son Diego as he endured all the yucky stuff that a prolonged sinus infection can bring.  In my work as a college professor, mid-December always brings its share of anxiety and stress as final grades are normally due (and just around my birthday) and always too soon after I collect my last set of student papers. Although these issues are part of being a parent and a teacher, this past week they were even more difficult to handle as they happened in the midst of the tragedy in Newtown, CT, the previous Friday. Like so many people, Kathy and I felt a deep sense of sorrow and distress after hearing the news about the shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary.  In no other time in recent years have I felt more depressed and saddened for the loss of innocent human life.  As a parent and a regular school volunteer, this event hit home for me.  In a moment of helplessness, I thought “What if that would have been my children’s school?”  And then, from deep in my heart I heard the advice that Rich has shared in a few of his sermons: “Let go, and let God.”

As I let God help me deal with my own fear, and ask Him to look after the grieving families in Newtown, I find consolation in today’s scripture readings.  Psalm 29 reminds us to listen to the Lord’s powerful voice.  It tells us to trust in the Lord’s strength, not ours, as “the voice of the Lord breaks the cedars” of our sorrow and “shakes the wilderness” of our worse fears.  And Psalm 24 might give us strength when we feel overwhelmed or helpless by calling us to lift up our guard so “that the King of glory may come in.”  This is the King of glory who is also “the Lord, strong and mighty.”  Here we are being reassured of God’s strength and comfort.

It is uplifting to see the way the whole nation and people from around the world have been responding to the pain and loss of the community in Newtown.  This outpouring of condolences embodies the Lord’s servant of Isaiah 42 “Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; he will bring forth justice to the nations.”  Here, justice can be interpreted as sharing a moment of silence, praying for the lost souls and their families, preparing a meal for someone who’s hungry, writing a card of sympathy for someone in need of comfort, accompanying the afflicted, becoming stronger servants of God’s peace.   And finally in Ephesians 6:10-20, Paul calls us to put on the armor of God to defend ourselves “against the spiritual forces of evil.”  Almost as if taken out from a Pokémon card (My children’s current obsession), Paul’s armor possesses all sorts of extraordinary powers: a belt of truth for our waists, a breastplate of righteousness, shoes for our feet with which “to proclaim the gospel of peace,” a shield of faith, a helmet of salvation, and a “sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”  If in the Psalms David revitalizes us by telling us to listen to the powerful voice of the Lord, here Paul wraps us with new hope through the promise of peace of God’s word.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring to each of us.  However, in today’s readings we learn that one of the many blessings of Advent is that we can always trust in the power of His voice and the strength and peace that come with it.

(Esteban Loustaunau)

Saturday, December 22, 2012

Excluding those of other faiths, who have their own religious traditions, I sometimes wonder what Christmas must mean to an unbeliever, or a skeptic.

All our holidays (July 4^th, Veterans’ Day) celebrate an event or honor individuals or groups of people.  So what must Christmas be without the Christ child?  What is celebrated or honored if the birth of Jesus is not part of the picture?

Scrooge’s demons somehow transform him into, well, a non-scrooge, and that is celebrated and makes a grand story and musical.  Christmas songs abound, and are played continually from Thanksgiving to Christmas day (and then abruptly stop, not to be heard during the Church’s Christmas season).  And it’s a good time to shop. 

Peggy Lee used to sing a song “Is that all there is?”

Certainly I do not intend to demean unbelievers or skeptics. On the contrary, I believe that believing is indeed a great gift, one that comes with great struggle for many of us.  So, does not that mean that we, telling our stories, should help others with issues of faith?

From the Letter of Jude, a lovely doxology:

Now to him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you without blemish before the presence of his glory with rejoicing, to the only God, our Savior through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion, and authority, before all time and now and for ever.  Amen.

(Sam Davenport)

Friday, December 21, 2012

Last week a great tragedy occurred in a neighborhood much like the one we live in.  It is a violence that is close to home, close enough to cause life-shattering, painful questions, questions that can overwhelm us and strike us into immobility, dissociation, depression, and separation from God. 

Where is God?  Why?  Why do innocents suffer?

There are several potential responses to Newtown’s tragedy.  For me, the most tempting response is to dissociate from the tragedy, as well as my own questions about God and his plan for this world.  My first reaction - to save myself from being overwhelmed - is to stay hulled up in my home with a Christmas tree and hot cider, to play Christmas carols and forget that pain exists.  I am perfectly capable of creating a world filled with warm blankets, movies, and an abundance of comfort and fantasy. 

But Jesus is not a god of fantasies and false-comfort.  No. 

As the Church, let us not turn our faces away from Reality-- from injustice, from perversion, from violence, from sin—even, and most importantly, from our own sin.  Let us face it. 

John the Baptist came to prepare the way for Christ, and this is what he said:

The ax is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.  Matthew 3:10

This is a warning to me, the Christ-follower.  This is a warning to the Church.  Let us produce the good fruit, because we are the only ones who can-- not because we know the answers to the questions that are raised by Newtown’s tragedy, but because we know Christ. 

Let us live with Christ in a broken world.  Let us live out the answers to our questions.  Where there is suffering, let us heal.  When we witness injustice, let us speak.  When we see violence, let us beat weapons into plowshares for work.  When we see an isolated child, let us invite him into our homes.  Let us be friends to the friendless; let us strive to build community fortified with love.  Let our hearts stay soft and our feet mobilized so that we can go to Christ when he calls us.  If Christ is calling us out from under our warm blankets, let us go. 

(Becky Grinstead)

Thursday, December 20, 2012

“Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving”  (Psalm 50:14a)

“Those who bring thanksgiving as their sacrifice honor me.” (Psalm 50:23a)

In Psalm 50, we learn that the Jewish people have been continuing the practice of sacrifice for atonement of their sins, but their heart is not in it.  They are doing it because “we’ve always done it this way.”  The sense of gratitude for the covenant with God is missing.  On the flip side of that coin, the Psalm also tells us that there are people who quote God’s words & profess the benefit of the covenant, but who live lives of evil & injustice.

The message to both groups is the same - “Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving” and “Those who bring thanksgiving as their sacrifice honor me.”

My dad had a saying that I heard over and over again growing up – it was “let us never be guilty of the sin of ingratitude.”  I also grew up watching him live out those words every day – not just when it was easy, but always.  Today, at 94, facing challenges that would overwhelm the best of us, Dad’s prayers with us always begin with “Lord, we are a grateful people. Thank you for the salvation you provided through Jesus……….”

When you grow up immersed in the spirit of gratitude, you learn a lot. You learn to write a lot of thank you notes, for sure.  Above that, you learn that gratitude is a way of life when it starts from the heart-felt gratitude for God’s saving grace.  Once you have that experience, every minute of the day has the seed of gratitude in it.

My primary prayer time on any given weekday is during my train ride into Boston every morning.  Before bringing the people and concerns of my heart to God’s attention, I try to follow the Psalmist’s directive, and Dad’s example, by starting out with “Lord, I am a grateful person…..”

What I learned from Psalm 50 is that true gratitude from the heart of a believer means everything to God.  The rest of what we have to offer becomes irrelevant if the gratitude is missing.  That sets the tone of Advent for me.  I want to focus on what matters – being grateful.

(Ruth Webb)

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

I read this and I am confused. Isaiah spoke of John, John spoke of Jesus and Jesus spoke of God. Is this all really necessary? Why can’t God speak to us directly?

I think that He does every day,  but often times in a way that we can’t hear Him. For example, I just played in my high school’s Christmas concert yesterday and when listening to the Jazz Band, the bass player may not be the first thing that is heard; most people are focused on the alto saxophonist taking a sweet solo running up and down scales, taking the audience on a musical journey.

However all the while, the alto saxophonist who everyone is so intently listening to is depending on the bass player to provide him with the right chords and musical accompaniment. The bass player lays down the beat and the groove that allows this musical journey to happen.

Much like the bass player, God is not always apparent, but He is there and He is the foundation of everything that is going on around us. Even in the midst of all the Christmas hysteria, nativity scenes, Christmas deals and Advent calendars, God is there.

(Marcus Papandrea)

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

During the Christmas season, I have been performing and practicing Handel’s Messiah with a youth orchestra that I’m a part of.  One of the passages in the great Messiah symphony is “Rejoice Greatly, O Daughter of Zion.”  I wasn’t familiar with the name Zion, so at first I thought Zion was a person – perhaps one of Jesus’ followers.  But one of the psalms that I read talked about Zion as a mountain, so I was confused.  When I looked it up online, I found that the Hebrew definition of the Daughter of Zion is the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, whereas in the Christian tradition, the Daughter of Zion is the Church.  We are the Daughter of Zion.  So when the Messiah symphony talks about rejoicing greatly, it means that WE should rejoice greatly.  Not just people who were alive in the days in which the psalms were written and not just people who were alive during Handel’s day, but us right here and now.

To state the obvious, Christmas is coming.  Every year I see my mom and dad going crazy trying to buy gifts and I see all of the commercials on TV for gadgets, electronics, clothes, even cars.  We love giving and receiving presents, but at the same time we feel guilty about it because we know that there are lots of better things we could be doing with our money.  We could be helping poor people get the food and clothing they need.  We could give it to the Church.  We could be saving it for college or other needs later in life.  So we tend to feel really guilty.  But maybe we should give ourselves a little slack.  After all, we give each other presents because we love each other and want to do nice things for each other.  So maybe giving presents is OK as long as we do what the psalms tell us to do and what Handel reminds us to do this season – Rejoice!

(Abigail)

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Monday, December 17, 2012

AM Psalm 41, 52; PM Psalm 44; Isaiah 8:16-9:1; 2 Peter 1:1-11; Luke 22:39-53

“If we had forgotten the name of our God, or spread out our hands to a strange god, would not God discover this?  For he knows the secrets of the heart.” Psalm 44: 20-21.

The sun rose this morning.  Not that unusual, is it?  It is when it surprises you right through a morning fog you hadn’t thought would lift…it surprises you when you are sitting at the dining room table facing right into it as it appears and it both burns your eyes and warms your skin…it surprises you when it happens at the very moment you are pondering the readings for the Advent reflection you are set to write, and the phrase which has jumped out fits perfectly.  God is good indeed.

In my work as a therapist I’m often focusing on the challenge of finding one’s authentic heart, which can be as had to find as a sunrise on a foggy morning.  I find that once found, the revelation of the brilliance of the light startles, sometimes frightens, often amazes.  That which I’m honored to see in the therapy office surely parallels the journey toward authenticity of our spiritual selves in relation to God.  Startling, sometimes frightening, usually amazing to behold.

In my job, I often sit (figuratively and literally) with whomever is on the journey, with great faith and hope that the work can be fruitful.  As I sit this morning and watch the sun rise in the sky, I’m struck at the very moment it is partially shaded by the cross beam of the window.  It’s streaming from above and below so that I can look right at it but not hurt my eyes.  If I tilt my head back it’s right in my eyes…if I close them, I can feel the warmth on my face.  I sit, but it isn’t completely comfortable to be quite honest.  Yet I realize that all I have to do is sit and be still with it…and if I wait, the sun will naturally rise in the sky, bathing the world in sunlight and even a bit of warmth for this beginning of December.  The waiting seems so symbolic of our waiting to feel God’s presence, the waiting of this Advent season.

Whether it’s in my (or any) therapy office or it’s in our journey with God, sitting and waiting isn’t always easy.  And as often as the sun has risen in my 48 years on earth, somehow my first thought in looking into the fog this morning wasn’t that it would, indeed, lift, but rather I found myself surprised that it did.   I’m grateful for today’s Psalm, with it’s much needed reminder that even if I don’t know my own heart, He does.

(Lori Churchill)