Doxology and daily bread…

Epiphany 4B
Scripture text:  Psalm 111 and Mark 1:21-18

This is Joe.  Joe is very happy these days.  In fact, you might listen to Joe these days and think he’s gone mad.  This usually even-keeled guy who speaks with measured words is sharing his deep joy with the world.  There is a backstory.  He got engaged.

Psalm 111 begins with the words:  Praise the Lord.  This imperative in the Hebrew is where we get the word Hallelujah.  To hallal the Lord is to offer foolish praise.  Abandoned gratitude for what God has done.

So here we have a call to praise God with abandoned gratitude, foolishly, with our whole heart.

There is a backstory to Psalm 111…

Verse two says, Great are the works of the LORD, studied by all who delight in them.  We hear that God is gracious and merciful…just and true.  But what are the works of the LORD?  This text provides clues to the works of the LORD.

Verse five speaks to the close connection between bread and covenant.  He provides food for those who fear him; he is mindful of his covenant. But what is the relationship between food and covenant…between bread stories and doxology?

It is sometimes difficult to remember that God is the source of bread.  We live in a world that tells many stories about bread.  Powerful stories that come to us through the media, institutions and ideologies.

We are told that we will get bread if we are smart enough or pretty enough.  If we work hard and are successful we can own the bread factory, or a chain of bread franchises.  It is even possible to pastor churches and write best-selling books that legitimate the bread stories of culture.

Others tell us the system is rigged and the only way we can get bread is by hustling on the streets, or hoping for a government bread program.

Either way, when we buy into these other bread stories, we will likely have diminished time and energy for doxology.  When we are situating our lives in other bread stories, even when we do show up in the congregation, our acts of praise are likely half-hearted.

But we hear the psalmist emphatically abandoned to doxology with God’s people because the psalmist knows the backstory.  So what is the backstory to doxology?

The backstory is that despite what Adam Smith or Karl Marx may teach us, the powers are not the source of bread.  The biblical story tells us that the God we worship is the creator of all things.  God is the source of bread.

The backstory is that we do our own thing and there are consequences—hardship, struggle, death.  But God does not give up on the work of creation.  In fact, God establishes covenant with Abraham to make a people who will share their bread with others and be a blessing to all the nations of the earth.

In the same chapter in which we read about the call of Abram, we also read that Abram has to go down to Egypt to find food because the famine was so severe (Gen 12).  We learn early on in the biblical story that Pharaoh always has food.  There are natural resources—the Nile River—that make it so, but there are other reasons.  Pharaoh controls the military and the infrastructure of production.  And so Pharaoh always has wealth and power.

The wilderness work of God…

Epiphany 1B—Baptism of Christ
Texts:  Gen. 1:1-5; Gen. 29; Mark 1:4-11

It’s New Year’s resolution season—a profitable time for the self-improvement industry.  Some people went back to the gym this week.

According to the projections of one research firm, Americans spent $62 billion last year in the hope of keeping resolutions to lose weight, get fit, quit smoking, fix their finances, organize their life…  And so memberships for health clubs spike each January.  But by March, there is no wait for the treadmill.

Change is not easy.

The gospel of Mark begins not with the birth narrative, but with the voice of a messenger in the wilderness proclaiming a message of change. People from all over Judea and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to see and hear John.  Why?  What were they looking for in the wilderness?  Perhaps, like those who make resolutions, they were looking for change.

To be human is to experience change.

In the book Faithful Change, James Fowler says the need for change in our lives comes from at least three sources:  developmental change, healing, and disruptions in the systems that shape our lives.

We have to deal with change because we are bodies.  From the time we are embryos, through childhood, through adolescence, out bodies are continually growing and changing.  Our genes and social environment influence how our bodies mature into their adult forms.  And then we eventually begin an inevitable process of gradual decline toward death.

And so, James Fowler says, we need courage and faith for this journey of growth and change, of struggle and development.

A border crossing story…

Texts:  Isaiah 60:1-6; Matthew 2:1-12

This morning we remember the story of the Magi.

I was born on El Dia de los Reyes–Three Kings Day (January 6)–which is a big deal in Mexico.  In Latin American culture, the Magi play a more prominent role in cultural celebrations.  It is los Reyes Magos, not Santa Claus, who bring gifts to children (although globalization is blurring these cultural boundaries).

In the church year, January 6 is also Epiphany—a feast day that celebrates the revelation of God the Son as human being in Jesus Christ.  Western Christians remember the visitation of the Magi to the baby Jesus as a story about Jesus’ physical manifestation to the Gentiles.

The story of the Magi is also a story about cultural and religious outsiders finding a place in God’s story.  It is a border crossing story.

We should not be surprised that Matthew weaves the story of the Magi into his account of the birth of Jesus.  From the beginning, Matthew frames the gospel as a story of inclusion.  We see this theme in the genealogy.

The genealogy clearly places Jesus and the Gospel within Israel’s history going back to Abraham.  But the genealogy also points to a significant role played by Gentiles, women (Luke’s genealogy does not include women–3:23-38) and those left behind in Judah during the time when the elite were taken into exile in Babylon.

Later in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus will say that he “was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Matt 15:24).  Even so, there will be mercy and a few crumbs from the table for a Canaanite woman whose daughter is not well.  Jesus will heal the son of a Roman centurion (Matt 8:5-13).

So it is important to see the story of the Magi together with the genealogy and the other stories that deal with outsiders as a part of the message in Matthew’s gospel.  For the Jewish-Christian community Matthew is written to in the late 1^st century—the message is that Gentiles are an integral part of the reign of God.

Our reading from the prophet Isaiah envisions Gentiles being drawn to the light…sons coming from far away and daughters being carried on their nurses’ arms.  The story of the Magi embodies this vision.

A longing fulfilled…

Christmas Day

Text:  Luke 2:22-40; Isaiah 61:10-62:3

Luke’s account of Jesus’ birth has many characters.

Front and center are the angels announcing the big news.  First, Gabriel to Mary and then the multitude to the shepherds in the fields.

Landing a part as a shepherd the church Christmas pageant was always a plum.  It meant the chance to wear dad’s old brown house robe and tie a towel on as head garb. It also meant no lines to memorize.

Then there are the other characters which we remember more lyrically from family readings of the “Christmas story” around the tree or songs we have sung.  We think of the emperor—Caesar Augustus.  We think of the nameless innkeeper who offers a place for Mary and Joseph to stay.  We think of the donkey all furry and brown.

But on this day when Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus, we hear Luke’s account of what happens eight days after Jesus is born.  And we meet two characters who are not a part of the crèche scene—Simeon and Anna.

Simeon’s longing…

What we know about Simeon is that he was a righteous and devout man.  We are told that he was looking forward to the consolation of Israel.

No doubt Simeon’s longing and expectation was nurtured by ancient prophesies like the one we heard today from Isaiah.  The Isaiah text looks forward with expectancy to a time of justice and salvation for all the nations of the world.  The prophet yearns for this like a bridegroom and a bride getting ready for their wedding.

There is overwhelming joy that something is coming—liberation, restoration, healing.

But the prophet also reminds us that when it comes it will be like a garden in early spring.  Gardens are places where we bury seeds in soil and wait.  We do our part, but also wait for adequate amounts of rain and sun—so that shoots will sprout up.

The hope Isaiah writes about was rooted in the imagination of Israel.  There is a longing for a return from Babylonian exile.  There is a waiting for consolation…generation after generation.

We also have longings…hopes and fears…expectations…

In a recent Mennonite Weekly Review piece, online editor Sheldon Good reflects on how young people are seeing and experiencing religion.  Talking about his own under 30 generation, he says “they are some of the most educated, technologically savvy, globally connected people ever. But they are coming of age in turbulent economic times and in a polarized political and religious climate.”

He says “many young people love the church. They may have been baptized in a congregation and may have lots of church friends and mentors. But for many of us, church isn’t working and has been or perhaps still is painful.”

As I read this article, I hear a longing being expressed.  I suppose the longings of each generation are shaped by a myriad of things.  Things like exile.  Things like the Vietnam war…MTV…the fall of the Berlin Wall…9/11…iPhones and Facebook. 

The word we are given…

Advent 4B
Texts: Luke 1:26-38; 46-55

When I was in 10th grade my dad took a sabbatical. Because this would mean missing six months of school, we went to talk to Joe Holiday—the high school guidance counselor. (That’s right, the same Joe Holiday that is now one of Roy Williams assistant basketball coaches at the University of North Carolina.) He worked with our teachers to pull together six months of school work. We then traveled as a family through Central America and Mexico.

When we returned home, I turned in my work, took final exams and got a summer job. I got a summer job, because when you’re sixteen years old, you think about things like getting your driver’s license and buying your first car…going to college. You think about clothes, braces, who is popular and where you fit in.

When school started that fall I felt displaced. It felt like while I had been away for nine months, my social world had changed. I was displaced in a world of classmates wearing name-brand clothes, going to parties, and dating. When basketball season started, my place on the team was not where it was when we left for sabbatical. More displacement.

This displacement eventually led to my decision to move to Pennsylvania and attend Christopher Dock Mennonite High School my senior year. With my parents blessing, I packed up my Datsun 310 and drove back east.

This was a decision that re-ordered my world.

I’m not sure what all was going on for young Mary when she received a visit from the angel Gabriel. Perhaps she was not your ordinary teenager. She was from an ordinary small town–Nazareth.

Mary also knew some important things about her life. Things like where she was from and whom she was going to marry. Mary was promised to Joseph.

These things were in place when God sent the angel to visit her in Nazareth. The angel brings a message that would reorder her world.

Mary hears that she is favored, that the Lord is with her. Mary is perplexed by these words. Perhaps she wondered what was really all that special about her life.

Even though we are created in the image of God, we don’t always feel rooted and grounded in love. We can sometimes question whether we really have anything valuable to contribute to the world. Hearing that we are favored or blessed can be perplexing when we struggle to know what that means in practical ways.

And so the words the angel speaks to Mary—“Do not be afraid”…”The Lord is with you”—are words we need to hear also. We need to hear these words as we ponder our place in God’s story.

In the biblical story, God’s favor and blessing is for the life of the world. So it is with Mary. Mary hears that she will become pregnant, that she will have a son, and that his name will be Jesus. She hears that he will be great, and that he will be called Son of the Most High. She hears that his Kingdom will never end.

How can this be? How can this be because she is a virgin.

Mary’s question makes room for us to ask our own questions. How can the life of God be received so deeply into my being that Jesus is expressed in my life?

We are not all given the same word. Our stories are not the same story. Each of us can only live our story. We are from different places more or less like Nazareth. We are from families more or less like Mary’s family. We are each given different gifts and callings.

So when we are given a word—when we become aware of God in our lives—we each may have different questions…

Questions like how can my lunch feed this big crowd. Questions like how can our family dinner table turn into a community meal where all are welcome. Questions like how can I participate in God’s mission as a farmer, a business-owner, a stay-at-home mom or dad…. Questions like if my story is such a mess, how can God possibly bring change.

Questions like how can my body possibly be a vessel through which the life of God is born into the world.
As Mary ponders her question, she hears that nothing is impossible with God. Mary hears that the Word will be planted in her by the power of the Holy Spirit. Mary is willing to let go and trust.

Mary receives the word and it continues to grow inside her for nine months…and a lifetime of wondering what it means to be the mother of Jesus…the mother of God.

Luke’s account of these events bears witness that because she believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her, a song of gratitude pours forth. Mary, full of grace and courage, bursts into song.

Mary sings about the power of God to transform the world through her lowly story. She sings about the Mighty One who is also merciful from generation to generation. She sings about the Mighty One who shows strength, scatters the proud, brings down the powerful and lift up the lowly. She sings about the one who fills the hungry with good things and sends the rich away empty.

But what does her song mean for us? What does it mean for the 1 percent and the 99?

As I listen to Mary’s song I think about the story of Kristin Rawls. Kristin Rawls comes from a solidly working class family in the suburbs of one of the most affluent towns in North Carolina. Following the advice of mentors, she followed her dream of going to college even though it meant taking out loans. She was told that student debt was a great way to build a credit history.

After college she served in Mozambique with the Mennonite Central Committee because she cared about poverty. She then followed her dreams to graduate school. Even though the cost of living was high in Washington D.C., her tuition was covered by scholarships.

Then Kristin decided to follow her dream of being a professor. She was admitted into a PhD program at Penn State. Living frugally, she was able to get by on the stipend of $14,000 per year. She was at the top of her class and things were going well until she got sick.

She was diagnosed with a life-threatening disease called lupus. Although she had health insurance, it was designed for young, healthy people. She attempted to manage her disease, school, and systems. She took out massive loans because her insurance did not cover what her doctors were telling her she needed.

Eventually she dropped out of school with more than $100,000 in debt. She is 31 years-old now and her credit is so bad now that she cannot even rent an apartment without a co-signer. She is one of the faces of the new poor in this country.

I listen to the story of Kristin Rawls and to Mary’s song and wonder how it is that Jesus makes a difference in our world. I wonder what the mercy of God might look like for Kristin Rawls, for this generation.

Advent is a season for self-examination. It is a time when we are invited to consider what it means for Jesus to come into our lives—into the life of the world.

As I close, I invite us to a time of silence…a time to reflect on how Mary’s story connects with our story.

As you ponder what is stirring in your heart and your mind, may you be given grace to receive the word that comes to you.  The word that invites you and me to a deeper way of living. Even as we live into our questions and trust that by the power of the Holy Spirit, nothing is impossible for God.

AMEN

A Psalm…

God of our days and our nights
God of our comings and goings
I give you thanks for your steadfast love
for all that is, for all that has been
for all that is yet to be

In the morning
I awake and feel the sun rising
breathe the cold winter air
and know that you
are with me

I remember
the tenuous steps of my youth
the journey of leaving home
the exodus wanderings in the wilderness
the long struggle of letting go
and trusting

I remember
the fragile process of
leaving the security
of childhood images of you
that could not hold
the jagged edges of life

I remember
the drudgery of making bricks
the agony of cancer and death
the loneliness of worshipping
in a sanctuary of happy faces

I remember
the salty sting of tears
the fertile darkness of you
the tender shoots of hope
growing in deep shadow places

In the middle of the night
when the troubles of the day
threaten to undo me
even there you are with me

You are with me
as soil is with roots
as seasons are with years
as presence is with being

And so I wake this morning
aware of the pulse
of your presence
in the beat of my heart
in the breath of my life
in the sun that rises
this day

God of our days and our nights
God of our comings and goings
I give you thanks for your steadfast love
for all that is, for all that has been
for all that is yet to be