Happy Holy Name!

Uh, isn't it, "Happy New Year"? Well yes, but Happy Holy Name works too. Today is New Year's Eve, a time of resolutions and new hopes and starting over. It is also the Eve of the Feast of the Holy Name, on which we remember that eight days after his birth, in accordance with the Jewish Law, Joseph and Mary had their son circumcised and named him Jesus, which means, "God saves."

Of course, this particular New Year's is the end of a decade. It marks a major turn in our historical time, but not as major as that turn we celebrated ten years ago, the end of one millennium and the beginning of another. Do you remember a joyous sense of optimism as we turned from the 1900s to what seemed like the magical "2000?" Of course, we were leaving a decade that seems destined to go down in history as America's "Holiday from History." We had defeated the Soviet Union without firing a single shot, and had managed to avoid nuclear annihilation in the process. We were getting ready to enjoy a "peace dividend" in which we didn't have to spend so much of our national income on the armed forces. We would actually end the decade with a budget surplus. And no other nation dared to challenge us.

Well, it turns out that the bubble was already starting to deflate. The Internet/Tech Bubble burst in 2000 and 2001, shortly to be replaced by the Real Estate Bubble. Our sense of invulnerability was shattered on September 11. We all know well enough the many challenges to our economic and military power that we face today. The New York Times columnist Paul Krugman suggests that this decade be called, "The Big Zero."

But this day, this year, this decade, this century, this millennium, and indeed all time, falls under one name: Jesus – "God saves." The loving purposes of God are not dependent on one nation's Gross Domestic Product, or destructive capability. Over the past two millennia, Empires have collapsed. New Empires have arisen, and fallen. But in the wake of destruction, people have always found new ways to live together and love together, under the name of Him through whom God saves. The risen Christ is the beginning and the end, the Alpha and the Omega. All our time belongs to Him, and Jesus will always be there, showing us new things, opening new doors, inspiring new hope.

Our hope is not based on a balance sheet, or conquered territory. Our only hope is based on the baby named, "God saves!" Happy Holy Name!

Eternal Father, you gave to your incarnate Son the holy name of Jesus to be the sign of our salvation: Plant in every heart, we pray, the love of him who is the Savior of the world, our Lord Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.

1st Sunday of Christmas

Well, Christmas is over. That December season of shopping and presents and radio stations playing holiday music non-stop is over. By my account, it ended at 11 pm on the 25th. That's when the classical musical channel on Direct TV stopped playing Christmas music. But for those of us who are here on this Sunday, "Christmas," or the Feast of the Incarnation, has just begun. Two days have passed, but 10 remain for us to celebrate the Incarnation: God taking on human flesh and blood.

It began three nights ago, with the babe in the manger, surrounded by sheep and shepherds and angels. It is so joyous, and so concrete, to see the soft flesh which could be touched and be reassured that in this uncertain world a fire was lit 2,000 years ago. And that light continues to warm our hearts with hope for a better, more just, more peaceful world. Shining on that soft and fleshy newborn we can bask in that light and warmth. But as much as we hear about the light in today's Good News, or Gospel, I wonder if we feel as warm as we did three nights ago.

Instead of a fat infant full of milk, we have the "Word." Have you noticed how many logos don't have any words in them now? All you need to see is a golden arch and you know it's McDonald's. Increasingly, it is images that compel our attention, not words. Words are abstract symbols. Their only connection to an object or idea or feeling is whatever meaning the speaker gives to them, if he can actually figure out that meaning. We strain to find the right words to express our conflicted feelings. But sometimes the burden of all the conflicted emotions in our hearts is too heavy for mere words. Words can be twisted into whatever meaning a speaker wants to that extent that public leaders can even quibble over what the meaning of "is" is. What's warm and fuzzy about "The Word was with God and the Word was God"?

But as Jesus himself says quite often in John's Gospel; "Very truly I tell you," you cannot get to the baby in the manger, to the Word that was made flesh, without starting at: "In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God." But the Word who is with God and is God is so much more than a word or a string of words put together to persuade, seduce, to con or to condemn. The Greek word logos doesn't mean a single word. It means something more like, "May I have a word with you?" The Word is not a string of letters tied together for some purpose or ulterior motive. The Word is a conversation. This Gospel could begin with, "In the beginning was the Conversation."

No human words will ever explain fully the God who was responsible for that indescribable Big Bang that happened when God said, "Let there be light." But we do know that God and The Word were there together in one Conversation about how to direct this creation. There they were: God the Father and Creator, God the Son and Word, and God the Holy Spirit moving with the wind through all creation. They were always, and always have been, one in conversation and one in action. And this one God, Father Son and Holy Spirit, has always been in conversation with those creatures who knew they were created and understood, therefore, that there is a Creator.

As archeologists have uncovered the burial sites of those long gone human beings we call Neanderthals, they have found petrified meat that was cooked before it was placed in the grave. As simple minded as they were, those prehistoric humans understood that they had been created. And having been created, they knew there was a Creator. In that knowledge, their Creator conversed with them in as much as they could comprehend. And those Neanderthals joined in the conversation as best they could, and expressed their hope that this conversation would be more fully known one day.

As was said before the baby, three nights ago, this day is the day that conversation has become more fully known. The Word has been made flesh and blood. The Conversation has become a human being who "dwelt among us," and has never left. Through the words he left us, he speaks to us today. Among we who become living members; arms and hands of His Body, when we eat the bread and drink the wine, Jesus speaks to us through each other. The light of that holy conversation shines in our darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

Feast of the Incarnation

"for to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord." (Luke 2:11)

"In those days" a great leader – "great" in the same way that what we Americans call the First World War Europeans still call "The Great War" – this great leader decreed that "all the world should be enrolled." In those days, this great leader wanted to know just how many people he had under his thumb. The great leader then was Caesar Augustus, though he had been born as "Octavian." In those days he had claimed the name of his uncle, Julius Caesar, the man who first brought dictatorship to Rome. Then over the years he had, indeed, brought a kind of peace to the known world; at the price of all his enemies' lives. Now he was known as "Augustus," that is, the Great. His birthday, September 23rd, had been adopted in the Eastern half of his Empire as the beginning of the new year, the beginning of a new time. Eventually, the Great Emperor died. According to one Roman historian, his wife Livia poisoned him to make room for her son to become Emperor. Caesar Augustus was cremated, then entombed in a mausoleum of marble to last for all time. Until the year 410, when German warriors sacked the city of Rome, broke into the mausoleum and scattered the ashes of Caesar the "Great" to the four winds.

But for now, these are the days of his power. And when Caesar Augustus says that the whole world must be "enrolled," so that he will know how much potential revenue he has to draw on, the whole world jumps to attention. Those who have not the power to tell Caesar, "No," must go to be counted. It matters not to Caesar that a young woman is on the verge of childbirth. Why should he be occupied with such small things? He is the son of a God. The priests have said that his uncle Julius has ascended to the mountain of the gods. This enrollment is the sign of Caesar's power, a power that will not die, but will go to the same immortal mountain that his uncle has gone to. By his wars he has brought peace to a world that calls him "Savior." He is the Lord of all.

But God has different plans for this enrollment, this great power grab. For a different king is coming. Indeed he has already come. And the royal announcement is made by the angels, not to those who already have more wealth and power than they need, but to those who were seen as dishonest. In the old American West, those who settled the land resented the cowboys whose cattle ate whatever grass was in front of them. The cowboys had no respect for others' property. So it was in ancient Judea. Landowners resented the shepherds who let their sheep wander to wherever the grass was green and plentiful. But it is to them that the greatest royal birth announcement of all time is made on "this day."

Those days of the powerful lording it over the powerless are coming to an end. Those days of owners and workers fighting over who gets the biggest piece of the pie are coming to an end. Those days of political partisans screaming at each other and trying to knife the other in the back are coming to an end. Those days of husbands and wives, parents and children, sisters and brothers, stewing in personal hurts that explode at the worst time are coming to an end. For this day is born to us a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this day Jesus of Nazareth, lying in a feeding trough, begins to bring peace into our world; not by destroying his enemies but by challenging them in love. This day Jesus Christ walks with the oppressor and the oppressed, challenging them to reconciliation. This day Jesus walks with those who are broken hearted, and challenges the rest of us to join them on that journey.

Jesus Christ the Lord did not come in "those days" for a brief time, and then leave us alone again. Two thousand years of our time may have come and gone. But ever since "this day" of that great birth announcement, it has always been "this day" of Jesus our Emmanuel, "God with us." There has never been a time when there was no God. Of course, you might say. But think that idea through. If God has always been , and always will be, then there is no "yesterday" with God, and no "tomorrow." There is no past with God, nor any tomorrow, but one eternal present, one eternal day, "this day." And if God was with us once, in the person of Jesus of Nazareth, then God is always "Emmanuel." Jesus is always with us. He is with us in the Word of Good News that is spoken and heard. He is with us in the bread and wine, in which we get a taste of eternal life. Jesus was with us today as we brought food to the poor and shut-in and let them know that they are not alone.

Jesus is with each one of us here, at this late hour. And we are here because in our own way we have caught a glimpse of that never ending day. I pray that something of "this day" will take hold in your heart and your mind and your soul. I pray that what you see and hear and smell and touch and taste "this day" will renew your sense of the divine in your life. And I pray that as you open your senses to the risen Jesus that "this day" will never end for you. For "to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord."

Sermon, 4th Sunday of Advent

"Blessed are you among women…and happy is she who trusted the word of the Lord." (Luke 1:42,45)

Anybody who has exchanged emails with me should know, by now, my closing salutation: "Blessings." Preparing for this sermon, I started to wonder if, to be totally honest, I should change my closing salutation; so that any letter, any email you get from me would have me saluting you with, "Mixed Blessings." The truth, I'm coming to see, is that there may be no other kind of blessing. How many times have you heard of someone who won millions of dollars in the lottery, only to lose it all? Relatives who pestered the winner for handouts, or investments that went bad: lawsuits by "exes." What a gracious favor they had, that turned into such a mixed blessing.

Or if you like, look no further than Mary. "Rejoice, O Lady of divine favor! Indeed, God is with you," the angel Gabriel told Mary. Of course, Mary's first reaction was not joy or relief. "But she was confused and troubled at this saying, and tried to figure out what sort of greeting this was." Mary understood that be favored by God's grace was not a blank check, an excuse to relax. She knew that God's blessings were always mixed blessings, full of grace yet also full of new challenges. And this blessing was no different: a new life to grow inside of her, a life full of promise. But not one that came in the socially accepted way: a pregnancy that, if the Law of that society was strictly enforced, would not survive Mary's death by stoning.

Mary, full of God's grace, accepts the Lord's blessing: "Here I am, the slave of the Lord. Let it be done to me according to your word." But like anyone else who receives a mixed blessing, she needs the reassurance offered by Gabriel. And so she travels about 80 miles to see her older cousin Elizabeth. And already the connection between these two preborn children is so strong that through their mothers, they can somehow know of each other's presence. All that is needed is for the voice of Jesus's mother to flow into John's mother, and John hears already the call of Jesus. And so we hear Elizabeth, in today's Gospel, exclaim, "Blessed are you among women!"

Elizabeth is not naïve. She knows that it is a mixed blessing for Mary: that the blessing itself is not a completely easy or happy occasion for Mary. And so Elizabeth also says, "Happy is she who trusted the word of the Lord." By saying in both cases that Mary is "blessed," the translation we heard obscures the fact that two different words are used. In the first instance, Mary is, indeed, "blessed" by God. But in the second instance, the word that Elizabeth uses means something closer to "fortunate," or "happy." Very truly, Mary was "happy." She knew what obstacles the evil one would place in her path. But she trusted that God's word would guide her through those obstacles toward the completion of God's loving purposes for her, her people, and her world.

Our only happiness comes when we trust in God's mixed blessings. Our only happiness comes when we trust that though God's blessings may ask a great deal of us, though the road down which God's blessing takes us may occasionally be dark; eventually we shall come out into a place of light, warmth, peace, and love. This Parish family has been blessed. We have been blessed with a beautiful worship space, traditional yet intimate. We have been blessed with a lack of debt. We have been blessed with a love for each other that has seen us through death and division. We have been blessed with a passion and energy to love others as we have been loved by Jesus.

So, what do God's mixed blessings have in store for us? I don't know for sure. But I do know this from today's "Good News." Happy are we who trust in the word of the Lord.

Advent 4: The Word Cloud

A little later than usual, but here 'tis, courtesy pf wordle.net

Let them know it's Christmas

As we begin to prepare for the coming of Christ into our hearts and broken world, I thought this might be a good reminder of what we're about at this time of waiting and preparation

Sermon, 3rd Sunday of Advent

"Be known to everyone for your gentleness, your consideration for others." (Philippians 4:5)

The three-year cycle of Sunday readings has come around, and here I am, preaching on the same reading from Paul's letter to the Philippians that I preached on three years ago. Then, I was serving as an "intern" of sorts at a parish in the Diocese of Virginia as part of my seminary education. I was scheduled to preach on December 17. That day, this church, along with 11 or 12 others in the Virginia diocese, was voting on whether to leave the Episcopal Church, and try to take the property with them. By that Sunday, it was clear that the vote would be in favor of leaving. And I was clear that the Episcopal Church was – and is – my family in Christ, and that I would not leave it over the controversy of that day. It was a strange experience that day to preach on Paul's words, "Rejoice in the Lord always…Do not worry about anything."

But I can tell you now what I told them three years ago. As strange as it may sound to tell ourselves to be joyful and non-anxious in this troubled time; that is nothing compared to Paul's circumstances when he wrote to the Philippians of joy and counseled them to be known only for their gentleness, or their consideration of others.

Paul is writing to this church, which he loves so much, from a prison, in chains. He spends much of the first chapter debating whether it would be better for him to die now and be totally with Christ, or to remain here for the sake of his brothers and sisters in Philippi. So, he was in prison apparently on a capital charge, facing the possibility of execution. And giving new meaning to the phrase, "With friends like these who needs enemies;" he writes that there are Christians in the city where he is imprisoned. But they are not his friends. In fact, he says they "proclaim Christ…not sincerely but intending to increase my suffering" (1:17). Who were these insincere Christians? My best guess is that they were Jewish Christians, who we know from other letters of Paul, often came behind him in his missionary travels, and said he was preaching a false gospel by not applying the whole Jewish law to Gentile Christians.

But Paul does not stew in his misery. He does not tell the Philippians to feel sorry for him. "What does it matter?" Paul asks about those insincere Christians. "Just this, that Christ is proclaimed in every way, whether out of false motives or true, and in that I rejoice" (1:18). Fourteen times in this little letter, Paul writes of joy; his joy, the Philippians' joy, the command to rejoice always. And aside from that command, the one thing that the Philippians must do in their mission, according to Paul, is this: Be known to everyone for your gentleness, or in another translation, your consideration for others. He doesn't tell the Philippian church to snarl at the pagan community surrounding them, and tell everyone that they're going to Hell if they don't repent. Nor does he tell the Philippians to crouch in self-defense. Nor does he tell them to hide for fear of being found out to be different. He tells the Philippians to do, by their gentleness and consideration, what we here at Christ Church say on our website, our first means of communication to the Sand Mountain community. He tells them, in effect, to bridge Christ and community.

So, what will we be known for on Sand Mountain? There's at least one thing we're already known for, according to one parishioner, who told me that one of her friends from another church said to her, "You're the church that will take anybody." I believe that's a good thing to be known for. That kind of openness is what results from "gentleness," or "consideration for others." Unfortunately, our news media doesn't find gentleness and consideration for others very newsworthy. Instead, they focus on conflict. They look for "hot-button" issues, in which people are so invested emotionally that they often react before they think. You see the "News Media" in our Cable "news" shows, false email rumors and Internet bloggers of all stripes and the most extreme opinions. They do not offer reason for joy, or peace that passes understanding. Instead, they seem to think that people should be known, not for their consideration of others, but for their enemies.

But we have a say in what we will be known for. This week, we begin forming a foyer group of people dedicated to helping the suffering of this parish. Once this group, known as "Community of Hope" is formed, anyone checking out our website will know us for our consideration for each other. This week, hopefully, readers of the local newspaper will know our consideration for all those for whom this joyful season is also a reminder of what and who they have lost. And our Blue Christmas prayer service will be the sign to the whole region of that consideration. Once a new Outreach foyer group has formulated an Outreach strategy with the Vestry's approval, we will be known to the region for our consideration of the poor.

If Paul could be so gentle, and considerate of others, and in such joy and peace, in prison chains, how can we possibly fail in our mission to Sand Mountain? A mission that must begin with our gentleness, our consideration for others.

Sermon Preveiw, Advent 3

Courtesy of wordle.net

Kill-Joy or Advent Joy

Up in the Northern Virginia suburbs of Washington DC, the "soft-rock" station got into the habit of playing nothing but Christmas music from the day after Thanksgiving through December 25. But sometime in October, of 2001, they started in with the all-Xmas-all-the-time playlist. It was 2001, and people were breaking the post-9/11 tension in the area by coming to Halloween parties as "safe houses." I'm a good Episcopalian, and I made a point of not listening to that station until after December 25th. And we continued our tradition of not putting up the tree until the weekend before the 25th.

But if this article is any indication, I wonder if we Episcopalians are doing too good a job of separating Advent from Christmas. Do you appreciate putting off the Christmas celebrations until the 25th, then reveling in Christmas joy for the "Twelve Days of Christmas" until the Feast of the Epiphany on January 6th? Do you like the secret pleasure of still enjoying Christmas while the rest of the world throws out the tree in exhaustion between the 25th and New Year's Day? Or do you think I'm just being a kill-joy begging you to "have yourself a dismal little Advent…"?

In all honesty, my love of Advent has as much to do with my personality quirks as theology. I was a rather happy-go-lucky kid, probably too naïve for my own good for too long. Adolescence hit me like a freight train. The emotions of joy and sadness were too much for me. I also noticed that when we visited relatives in Elmore and Coosa counties, my parents almost always had to deal with some unpleasant situation – a lawsuit involving one set of grandparents – another grandmother suffering from alcoholism. In short, I perceived the same disconnect that many people perceive, between the advertising images of happy families and my reality. And to this day I remain prone to the "Christmas Blues."

And to tell the truth, I don't think we were in any less danger of another terrorist attack in the DC area by starting the Christmas music early. One of my personal favorites in the Christmas repertoire is "Lo, how a rose e’er blooming." It's one of those slow Renaissance carols in the minor key that we moderns associate with sadness

Lo, how a rose e'er blooming,
From tender stem hath sprung!…

To show God's love aright,
She bore to us a Savior
When half spent was the night

But back when this carol was first composed, it was the minor key that people associated with joy. Life was shorter, and harder. And I think that people understood that joy did not come easy, but had to be found in the midst of life, with its passing occasions for happiness and sadness. People back then were more open to the message of the Incarnation: that God comes closest to humanity at its lowest point, not its highest.

This is not the season for covering over our problems, but for facing them squarely, and seeing a tiny light, a just budding flower that will in God's good time grow to eternity. Am I being a kill-joy? I do know from the pattern of life I have grown into as a "liturgical" Christian that I will still be singing the songs of Christmas joy on "Twelfth Night," January 5th.

I wish you all a blessed Advent.