Sermon 27 December 2015 John 1:1-18 Christmas I Year C

         I want to make sure you realize that it is still Christmas, at least in church. Christmas, as celebrated in the Episcopal Church, follows the ancient religious tradition of beginning on Christmas Eve and continuing until the Feast of the Epiphany on January 6^th. The church differs from the retail world. We begin our season of anticipation and waiting on the first Sunday in Advent, and we wait four weeks until Christmas Eve. In most places, the Episcopal Church turns its back on Christmas carols and Christmas decorations until Christmas Eve. And, it keeps on going with Christmas long after the rest of the world has closed down its after-Christmas sales.

This is the real Christmas: the Christmas that is about the birth of our Savior rather than shining trees and expensive gifts and happy gatherings. We have probably all had an experience or two where the trees weren’t so shiny, and the expensive gifts turned out to be nothing we’d ever use, and the happy gatherings brought up unhappy memories instead.

         The blessing of celebrating Christmas in the church is that we are dependent on God alone. It doesn’t matter about the trees, or the gifts, or the gatherings. What matters is the tree of life has been redeemed, the One and Only gift is given, and we are gathered to celebrate the presence of God in our lives.

         Some people make it sound as though when Jesus was born as human flesh; that was the first time God came close to human beings. They seem to think the birth of Jesus meant God suddenly changed God’s mind and cared about us and became involved in our lives. Instead, God has cared about us since the beginning of Creation.

         Throughout Scripture, God has been involved with human beings and in human history. God walked in the garden with Adam and Eve.[1] God spoke with Moses from the burning bush.[2] God instructed the Prophet Deborah.[3] God upheld Esther and Mordecai.[4] God was present for the prostitute Rahab.[5] God was present on the road to Emmaus.[6] God was present at the first Pentecost.[7] Countless times the presence of God is told in story, in song, and from the hearts and souls of men and women in the pages of Scripture.

         The beginning of John’s gospel, the first eighteen verses of which we hear this morning, reminds us that God was present and involved in the creation of the earth upon which we stand. And that Jesus, the Word, has been with God and was and is God, now and from the beginning.

         Like a lover who has memorized the face of the beloved, God cares for us passionately. Every inch of us is made in the image of God and we reflect that image of God back to God’s self. God has loved us from our beginnings and will love us to the ending and beyond.

         How do we know this? We know it because Jesus came. Jesus came to show us God. Jesus came to reveal to us, a stubborn stiff-necked people, who God really is.

         Many people believe that God somehow shows us Jesus. But in truth, Jesus came to show us God. Jesus, the living and loving flesh of God, is God. What this tells us is that everything Jesus does and was and is still; is what God does and was and is still.

This is truly remarkable incredible, and perhaps even a little terrifying.

·      Jesus reveals a God who cares passionately for healing and wholeness.

·      Jesus reveals a God who loves the poor beyond all reason.

·      Jesus reveals a God who dines with everyone, drinks with everyone, touches everyone, and enters every house, no matter how rich or poor.

·      Jesus reveals a God who weeps with us and laughs with us.

·      Jesus reveals a God who cares without ceasing.

·      Jesus reveals a God who is always near; ever present, loving us even when we are unlovable and unreachable.

Do you want to know God? John’s gospel tells us, “No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.”[8]

·      Look for the Jesus in others if you want to know God.

·      Follow Jesus only if you want to know God.

·      Serve Jesus only if you want to know God. AMEN.

The Rev Nicolette Papanek

©2015

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[1] Genesis 3:8

[2] Exodus 3:2-3

[3] Judges 4, 5

[4] Esther

[5] Joshua 2, 6:22-25

[6] Luke 24:13

[7] Acts 2:1-15ff

[8] John 1:18 

Sermon 25 December 2015 John 1:1-14 Feast of the Nativity/Christmas Day Year C

Preaching on Christmas Day reminds me of that cliché we use so frequently: “It’s like preaching to the choir”. And truthfully, in most places, the service on Christmas Day is a lot like that. Only the faithful – it’s an old-fashioned word – but only the most devout, come out on Christmas morning. The folks that are home came last night and that was enough church for them beyond Sunday. In all charity, many of them have children, and opening presents on Christmas morning is much more attractive than sitting in church with some idiot yammering away at you about a story you already know.

At the risk of getting nostalgic, let me tell you about the Middle Ages. The church at that time would celebrate three masses on Christmas Day. The first service was in the dark of night to celebrate the birth of creation. The second service came at sun-up to celebrate the birth of its savior Jesus. And the third was celebrated in the full light of day to celebrate the birth of Jesus in the hearts of the believers in the congregation that day.

So congratulations! Here you are – even if you didn’t quite know it – to celebrate the birth of Jesus in your heart.

I think one of the reasons you might be here is a kind of protest. It’s saying “no” to all the ways in which society celebrates Christmas. It’s saying “no” to the kind of thing I read some years ago, as a matter of fact, when I also was in the advertising business. The little article was entitled “Tell it like it is”. It was a holiday greeting from the advertising firm Barkley and Evergreen. The holiday card they mailed to all their clients read: “Some say the holidays have had all the meaning sucked out of them by crass commercialization…Season’s greetings from the people who helped make that possible”.  I guess there’s nothing like being up front about what you’re doing!

But I also think that might be one of the reasons you’re here. Like the people in the Middle Ages, on Christmas morning, you’ve made room in your heart to celebrate the birth of Jesus. You’ve checked out from “commercial Christmas”, and you’ve made room in your heart for Jesus.

In this morning’s gospel, there is nothing about the manger or any of the stories with which we are familiar. Instead what we get is a creation story, a story that tells us Jesus was there from the beginning. But I think this story is like the story of the birth of Jesus, a story about making room, making room for God to fill us. So suppose for a moment we rethink the actions of the innkeeper in hat light. 

Inns in Jesus’ time were crowded places where everyone slept in areas in a common space, unless people were wealthy. Maybe the innkeeper saw Mary was about to deliver a baby, and offered the place with the only privacy and comfort available: a stall with the beasts from the field.

The innkeeper may have started from the positive. What would happen if we did that also? Perhaps we could say, I get to make room, rather than I have to make room. Perhaps if we started from this premise each time, we would find the room just as the innkeeper did. Because it is when we think we are full that we have no room.

I encourage you this Christmas morning to continue making room in your heart for Jesus to be born each day. To say to yourself each day, “I get to make room for Christ to be born in me this day”. How ever, and in whatever way you do this, you will keep Christmas all the year. AMEN.  

 

The Rev Nicolette Papanek

©2015

Sermon 24 December 2015 Luke 2:1-20 Eve of the Nativity/Christmas Eve Year C

This is Christmas Eve, the eve of mystery and wonder. Some of you may indeed be full of wonder tonight. Wonder that you once more darkened the doors of a church. Wonder that you let your family talk you into coming. Wonder that you came because your house was empty and you thought maybe, just maybe, coming here might make it seem a little less empty when you got home. Wonder that you managed to escape your family by coming to church. Or wonder that you tried to escape and some family member decided to tag along. Probably some of you that come here all the time wondered how you’d feel if you didn’t come. Congratulations to all of you; because despite what you may think, it was the mystery and wonder of God that drew you here tonight.

I suspect the shepherds probably wondered a lot too on that night so long ago. They wondered some of the same things you are sitting here wondering. But mostly, I think they wondered how they ended up at that manger. After all, it was just a baby: a little squalling baby, wrapped in bands of cloth, in a cow stall or a cave. And they were just shepherds. Not important people; probably mostly young boys. And suddenly they found themselves frightened out of their wits by angels and followed a star to see a baby!

And so the shepherds came to the manger wondering. And, like the shepherds at the manger, we come here wondering, too. Deep in our hearts, we wonder if we come to the manger what will happen. If we come to the manger can God really put our broken pieces back together?

You came because of that wonder. Your heart was drawn here by the mystery and wonder of God becoming flesh and dwelling among us. Your feet somehow managed to obey your heart because your heart is still open to wonder and mystery and your broken pieces cried out for mending. Even if your head told you, “No, no,” your heart said, “Yes, go.”

That is what the shepherds did. Their heads may have said, “No, no,” but their hearts said, “Yes, go.” And they came. They came and saw God in human flesh; God made just like us. If you’ve ever wondered if human beings are created in God’s image remember this. God in Jesus was made in the image we know as human beings. We are human beings of flesh and blood and hearts. We have hearts to draw our feet to the manger. And somewhere in each of our hearts is a longing to encounter the wonder and mystery of God and have our broken pieces mended.

This is still it, after two millennia: There is a welcome for all here. This is the place where broken pieces can be mended; where we can be made whole. No matter what, no matter where you’ve been, no matter what you’ve done; the light from the manger falls across your life and puts the broken pieces back together. God was here and is here, and is with us in the form of our Lord Jesus Christ. This night is the place and the time we celebrate that holy mystery of God made flesh. This night is the time to wonder and delight that born this day in the city of David is the Savior, the Messiah, the Lord God in human flesh. This is the night when God made whole the broken pieces of the world.

So on this night, rejoice in the mystery and wonder that Christ became human flesh to put our broken pieces back together. Rejoice in the mystery and wonder that God was and is human. God is here: Emmanuel, God with us. And by this one act of God becoming human flesh, all the broken pieces are put together into something new and everything is made new, including you! AMEN.

The Rev Nicolette Papanek

©2015

Children's Sermon 24 December 2015 Luke 2:1-14 Christmas Eve Year C

This is Christmas Eve, isn’t it? I bet some of you are pretty excited about the presents that are under your tree at home. 

Do you know a very special baby was born a long time ago? Do you remember the name of the baby? That’s right. His name was Jesus.

So this is Christmas Eve and it’s a pretty exciting time, isn’t it? I wonder what it was like when the baby Jesus was born. And I wonder what it was like for Jesus to be a tiny baby. And I wonder what it was like for each of you. Because you were a tiny baby too, and so were all these grownups.

I wonder what we might be like if each time we saw a tiny baby, we remembered that Jesus used to be a tiny baby. And I wonder what we might be like if every time we saw someone we liked, or even someone we didn’t like, if we remembered that person was once a little tiny baby too. I wonder what the world might be like if every time we saw anybody; we remembered they used to be a tiny baby.

So I wonder, since Jesus was the Son of God, that means he was made like God, doesn’t it? And each one of us was once a tiny baby, just like Jesus. That means each one of us is made the same way as Jesus, doesn’t it?

So I wonder what would happen in all the world, if everyone looked at everyone they met and imagined them as a tiny baby: made like Jesus. And I wonder what would happen if we started right here, right now, tonight. And we kept on doing that every time we looked as someone, all our lives. AMEN. 
 
The Rev Nicolette Papanek
©2015

Morning Musing

NOVELS AT BREAKFAST

I read novels at breakfast: happy novels. There is something about morning that precludes a too-soon reality. I can believe that people can be silly and warm and dear in the morning. I can believe in their sadness, but in the morning I know their sadness will fade as the twilight fades into darkness. And I know that all will be cozy and sheltered by nightfall. No one will be lost in the forest, no one will hunger, no one will thirst, and no one will have a vast untapped longing for something by nightfall. The novel’s day encompasses me during the day and leaves spaces for reality to leak in slowly. Like oil sliding down over pebbles in a jar, reality gradually forms itself around the pebbles of my day, coating everything with its film of gentleness, never quite as rude as it could be if I were novel-free.

In the morning I know that crimes can be solved; straying sheep found, and bags of ill-gotten gains returned to their original owners. I rest in that knowledge after Morning Prayer, when I have sometimes considered all the tangles humans get themselves in (including my own tangles), and find I can bear it more easily and gracefully.

A morning prayer:

O God, this is a new day you have created. Help me to remember that with you all things are possible, even those thing I can imagine only in my wildest dreams. Let me be a blessing in your Name this day and every day. AMEN.

Sermon 20 December 2015 Luke 1:39-55 Advent IV Year C

            Some years ago I worked in a church where one of the Sunday morning services used contemporary music. I learned for contemporary music in an Episcopal church to work, we needed to use the same criteria to evaluate contemporary music as we use for any other music. These are the same questions we ask when we plan any worship service. Do the words or text of the hymns follow and support the liturgy of the day and the season of the church year? Does the music enhance and track with the other music used that day?

         So back to that church a few years ago: as I came into the church that day the contemporary music group was practicing. The text of the song was based on the Magnificat, the incredible song of power and praise uttered by Mary that we just heard in our Gospel reading, and that we also prayed as a psalm of praise between the Old and New Testament readings. That day, as I checked the altar book and did all the other things

a priest does before a worship service; I began to feel increasingly uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure why; I just knew I was uncomfortable.

I had been listening to the music with barely half an ear, and I stopped then, long enough to really hear the words. It began to dawn on me what was wrong. The words to this contemporary song were a paraphrase of the Magnificat. But what was making me uncomfortable was something major was missing. The song was all about the poor being raised up, and God’s strength and might, and the hungry being fed with good things. There was nothing about God having mercy on those who fear him. There was nothing about scattering the proud in their conceit. There was nothing about casting down the mighty from their thrones. And absolutely nothing about the rich being sent away empty. Instead of the Magnificat, it was what you might call a “Magnifi-half-a-cat.” The part about those who have everything now having to give up what they have was completely missing

You might not think that matters much; after all, it’s just a song. But I happen to think everything we do or say or sing in our worship must express what we believe. And it must reflect as well as we faltering humans can, a full and glorious rendering of God, as we best understand God.

I don’t much like the Magnificat when I look at it closely. I’ll bet if you look at it closely, you won’t much like it either. Why? Because it’s just barely possible that you and I are some of those rich that will be cast down. Most days I don’t feel particularly rich. I suspect you don’t either. But let’s face it, you and I and just about everyone sitting here is richer than at least 80% of the known world. We have more. We earn more. We expect more. And maybe that’s what’s wrong. We expect more.

Most of us are constantly expecting more. Even as we grow older, and might begin to wonder whether we really need all that stuff we’ve accumulated, we’re buying and selling houses and cars and bewailing the state of the stock market. We might do less for ourselves and spend less on our appearance to look younger, but instead we’re smearing Rogaine on our domes and wrinkle cream under our eyes.

So I ask you, do you want to give something up? And the answer for most of us is a resounding no. We want to keep what we have and get more. We are afraid of losing anything we’ve accumulated and we want to keep it with us in case we need it.

My friends in Christ, I hate to break this to you, especially so close to Christmas, but the Magnificat is a rude wakening. He has scattered the conceited and complacent. He has cast down the mighty from their recliners. He has sent the rich away with empty pockets and flat portfolios.

Is this good news for us? Or is it only good news for the poor? What if we stood to gain by this? What if loss turned out to be gain? What if what seems like deprivation turned out to be wealth beyond our imagining?

Everyone I know who has voluntarily down-sized and gotten rid of stuff has later said to me, “It was so freeing. I didn’t realize how tied down I was by having to take care of all that stuff.” I don’t by any means minimize the loss of jobs by people who are barely getting by, or people who have lost everything in a fire, tornado, or other disaster. But, what I have heard from people in that situation is this. “We know what’s really important now. We know how little we can live on and be happy. We didn’t need more. We needed God.”

And there it is. The Magnificat is good news even for the rich. It’s good news even for those who dread being cast down or think they will lose by giving something away. Everything we give away will bless someone else. Rather than “more” being what we can accumulate on our own, “more” will mean God’s unending abundance. Everything we think of as loss, God will transform into gain. Then rich and poor, mighty and lowly, will

join hands together in worship of the Almighty and Everliving God from whom comes all that is worth having. AMEN.

The Rev Nicolette Papanek

©2015