Author: reverendjoannwhite

Teambuilding

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Teambuilding” Mark 1:14-20

Teambuilding began in the United States in the early twentieth century. The early behavioral psychologist Elton Mayo conducted a series of experiments to determine if workplaces could be changed to increase productivity and yield greater profits. Dr. Mayo tested his theories at Hawthorne Works, a large factory complex of the Western Electric Company in Cicero, Illinois. Hawthorne employed 45,000 workers, mass-producing telephone equipment. The factory had a diverse workforce: Czech immigrants, longtime working-class Chicagoans, and African Americans who had migrated north from the deep south.

Dr. Mayo began his testing by changing the physical environment of workers. He altered lighting and manipulated the humidity of the workplace, but physical changes had little or no affect. Next, he expanded the study to observe social and emotional factors that might have an impact upon workers, like their interactions with managers and co-workers. Dr. Mayo hit paydirt.

Building relationships between leaders and workers inspired feelings of teamwork. Leaders saw their role as providing vital support for teammates. Workers developed a sense of responsibility to colleagues. All that led to positive changes in employee performance. Not only were workers more productive, but they also had a greater sense of satisfaction in the workplace. Bonds nurtured at work also led to diverse, lasting friendships in the community.

The experiments revolutionized industry and launched a century of teambuilding efforts. Today teambuilding is a core concept of organizational development and management. Teambuilding exercises are an integral part of training for the US Army, professional athletics, and corporate, as well as non-profit, workplaces.

Jesus knew the importance of building a team to follow and work alongside him in ministry.  In our reading from Mark’s gospel, Jesus began his own teambuilding.  As Jesus walked the shores of the Sea of Galilee, he noticed brothers Peter and Andrew casting their fishing nets.  Jesus saw something he liked. He called them to follow him. Immediately, they joined him.  Just a little farther along the shoreline, Jesus ran into another set of brothers—James and John, mending nets with their father Zebedee.  Soon they, too, had joined the team, leaving their family and fishing boat behind. There would be other disciples: Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, Little James, Thaddeus, Simon, and Judas. Eventually, there would be twelve disciples serving in what scholars call the “inner circle” of Jesus’ ministry.

For sixteen centuries, faithful people described what Jesus did with the disciples as a summoning to vocation—where vocation meant the calling to a consecrated, religious life, as a priest or nun. With the Protestant Reformation, all that changed. First Martin Luther and then John Calvin taught that all Christians have a vocation or calling to use our God-given gifts in our secular workplaces and in the congregations that we affiliate with. The minister who preaches the gospel has a calling, but so do the musicians who enhance our worship and the Sanctus workers who dust the pews. Team Jesus calls us all.

The disciples made a diverse group. Perhaps the only thing they had in common was their shared heritage as Israelites. Peter, Andrew, James, and John earned their living on the Sea of Galilee, casting nets or towing dragnets to yield a harvest of freshwater fish. Matthew was, of course, a tax collector. He straddled the uncomfortable gap between the ruling elite and the everyday people, collecting taxes from his neighbors to finance Herod’s building projects or pay for the Roman occupation. The name Bartholomew means Son of the Furrows (or fields). He was a farmer. Simon, often called Simon the Zealot, was a bit of a radical, affiliated with the resistance group that would eventually revolt against the Roman occupation. Jesus knew it would take a variety of people to build his team and serve the Kingdom.

Our team has diversity, too. We serve (or have served) in schools as teachers, counselors, and administrators. We are healers: nurses, doctors, researchers, and home health aides. We are civil servants who have served the APA, DEC, or our local governments. We are businesspeople, running small businesses, programming computers, or sharing our expertise as consultants. Somehow those differing vocations have found a spiritual home and shared purpose right here.

The disciples on Team Jesus had differing gifts. Peter was a leader: the first to know that Jesus was the Messiah, the first to retreat to Galilee after the crucifixion, and the first to avow his love when the risen Lord found him on the lakeshore a second time. Philip had the gift of reaching out; no sooner had he found Jesus than he was inviting his friend Nathanael to come and see this rabbi who just might be the Messiah. Thomas asked the big questions, but he also had the gift of loyalty: he followed Jesus to Jerusalem, even when he expected the worst. John had the gift of love, laying his head upon the Lord’s breast in companionable silence and standing at the foot of the cross with the women. It would take a variety of gifts to achieve Jesus’ purpose. All were valued and needed.

We, too, are a people of differing gifts. We may be richly blessed with musical gifts. Or, we may we have a passion for learning and studying scripture. We may have the patience to teach and work with children. We have gifts for good cooking, yummy baking, and warm hospitality. We care–our warm sympathy overflows for folks in tough times. We are generous, sharing of our resources and money. In the sharing of our differing gifts, churches like this thrive, and Jesus is known.

Somehow, Jesus forged the diverse and differently gifted disciples into a team that would change the world. There were some teambuilding exercises along the way. They learned to depend upon one another when he sent them out in pairs to teach and heal. They learned to trust in his power and presence when their boat was rocked by a rising storm. They learned that they could feed hungry people by sharing their meager resources and believing that with Jesus just a little could be enough. Jesus built his team to minister at his side, but even more so, he built a team that, in the long years to come, could minister even when he wasn’t right there, telling them what to do.

Team Jesus was wildly successful, with productivity and profits far outpacing the biggest dreams of Dr. Elton Mayo and those early twentieth century captains of industry. Peter would appoint himself chief among apostles to the Hebrew people, but the Holy Spirit had bigger things in mind. From the household of the Roman Centurion Cornelius in Caesarea Maritime to the household of the emperor in Rome, Peter would lead the charge of the early church into new territory. John would plant a church in Israel whose loving bonds would survive terrible persecution. John would successfully lead his congregation into exile, from Israel across the Mediterranean to western Turkey. There he would write at least three letters that we continue to cherish today, and his memories of Jesus would eventually be recorded in the Gospel that bears his name. Bartholomew never went back to farming. He teamed up with his fellow disciple Thaddeus to venture as far as India with the gospel message. Along the way, they planted the seeds of faith in Armenia, which became the first Christian nation in the year 301. Simon the Zealot left behind his political aspirations. He traveled to Egypt and North Africa and planted churches from Cairo to Alexandria to Cyrene. Some traditions say that Simon traveled on to Spain and then Britain where he shared about his life with Jesus until he lost his own life, crucified by the Romans in the year 61CE. What a team! They took the good news from one end of the Roman Empire to the other—and beyond.

Our team may not travel as far afield in the Lord’s purpose, but our differing gifts have been shared in ways that have made a life-changing difference for others. The good news that we share with our children in Sunday School, Youth Group, and confirmation provides a foundation of faith that will sustain them as they go off to school, embark on professional endeavors, and start families of their own. Our passion for feeding hungry people has motivated us to grow bushel upon bushel of beans at the Jubilee Garden, fill the pack basket with monthly food offerings, create a permanent home for the Saranac Lake Food Pantry, and make a dent in global hunger through CROP Walk and Church World Service. Our commitment to caring makes a loving difference. It prompts deacons to reach out to homebound friends, inspires prayer chain warriors to pray fervently, sends us forth with summer bouquets for folks who need love, and equips us to comfort families at the time of death. What a team! We are good news for a world still deeply in need of the love and mercy of Jesus.

As the New Year unfolds, so will the teambuilding efforts of the world around us. The army will build cohesiveness among recruits by inviting them to work together to carry super heavy loads that can’t be handled alone or by dropping units off in the middle of nowhere with orders to return to base forthwith. Athletic managers will build trust and mutual respect among their professional athletes by giving them each a few clues, locking them together in an escape room, and giving them an hour to get out. Titans of industry will hope to unlock productivity and profits by scheduling teambuilding retreats for their employees. Participants will try exchanging warm fuzzies (compliments), meditating, and facing the physical challenge of a ropes course.

I suspect that Jesus will continue to build his team right here at the First Presbyterian Church. He’ll inspire us to welcome diversity. He’ll celebrate our differing gifts. He’ll delight as we get busy in his purpose. Go, Team Jesus!

Resources

Michael Rogness. “Commentary on Mark 1:14-20” in Preaching This Week, Jan. 25, 2015. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Cynthia Briggs Kittredge. “Commentary on Mark 1:14-20” in Preaching This Week, Jan. 21, 2018. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Alicia Vargas. “Commentary on Mark 1:14-20” in Preaching This Week, Jan. 21, 2024. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Feli Oliveros. “What is Team Building? How to Build Stronger, Cohesive Teams in 2023” in Talkshop, July 29, 2023. Accessed online at https://gusto.com

Angela Robinson. “History of Team Building” in teambuilding, Sept. 27, 2022. Accessed online at https://teambuilding.com.

Mark 1:14-20

14Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, 15and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” 16As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. 17And Jesus said to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” 18And immediately they left their nets and followed him. 19As he went a little farther, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John, who were in their boat mending the nets. 20Immediately he called them; and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men, and followed him.

Photo by Quang Nguyen Vinh on Pexels.com

I Am with You

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “I Am with You” Matthew 28:16-20

The world longs for peace.

It’s been 100 days since the outbreak of the Israel-Hamas War. On October seventh, Hamas militants swept out of Gaza and into southern Israel, leaving behind a trail of death and destruction. 1,200 people were killed and 250 hostages abducted. In response, Prime Minister Netanyahu declared war. With heavy bombardment and a ground invasion of Gaza, the Israeli Defense Force seeks to root out the Hamas threat and keep Israel safe.

Caught in the crossfire are civilians. Experts say the Israeli bombing of Gaza is among the most intense in modern history. More than 23,000 Palestinians have been killed. Two-thirds of those casualties have been women and children. Thousands more remain missing or badly wounded. Half of Gaza’s buildings have been damaged or destroyed. 80% of the population is displaced. Schools are closed. The healthcare system is near collapse, with only 15 of 36 hospitals still functioning.  One quarter of the people are starving. Halima Abu Daqa, a displaced Palestinian woman, sheltering with her family in a tent camp near the border with Egypt laments, “We have been deprived of everything. Everything has changed and nothing remains.”

On the Israeli side, civilians have contended with 14,000 Hamas missiles lunched against southern cities. Confidence in the Israeli government, which failed to act on a warning about the coming attack, has plummeted. Men and women have been called up to active military duty. 314 soldiers have been killed. Skepticism is growing in Israel about the kind of military victory that can really be achieved. Vigils and public outcry call for action to free the 130 Israelis who remain prisoners of Hamas. Families of hostages are among the voices calling to put combat on hold and strike an immediate deal with Hamas to free the hostages. Udi Goren, whose cousin was killed on October seventh, says, “We’re talking about a war that’s now going on in an urban area that has about 2 million refugees and hostages. The [Israeli military] is fighting with [its] hand tied behind its back. It’s very clear that we need to find a ladder to climb down.”

The world longs for peace this morning. In the face of the world’s warring madness, we have the audacity to celebrate a Sunday that is dedicated to the making of peace. Since 1983, the Presbyterian Peacemaking Program has been working with partners around the world to provide humanitarian support and disaster assistance to war plagued people and places. Beyond the war zone, Presbyterian Peacemakers seek an end to human trafficking, racism, and the tragedy of displacement and economic crisis driven by climate change.

This church’s commitment to peacemaking began more than thirty years ago. In 1990, the late Rev. Dick Stone led a Bible Study on peacemaking with this congregation. Dick and the participants in that study convinced the session to make the commitment to peacemaking, inviting us to work for peace in our families, communities, and even in the international arena. The elders voted and made it official. We are peacemakers.

Our calling to be peacemakers is grounded in the teachings of Jesus. Reading Matthew’s gospel is like a master class in peacemaking. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself. Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. Turn the other cheek. Before you do anything else, go to your alienated neighbor and be reconciled. Forgive seventy times seven, which basically means forgive others without limits. These are the words of Jesus. They are a clear call to peacemaking and an anticipation of the peaceable kingdom that the Lord would have us forge on earth as it is in heaven.

Living into those words isn’t easy. Our whole-hearted commitment to God can get pushed to the margins by the demands of family, work, and civic engagement. In this politically fraught climate, it feels tough to trust our neighbors and love them as ourselves. Do we really have to love our enemies? Jesus, you must not have met them. Be reconciled? We would rather steer clear of our alienated neighbors, friends, or family members and pretend they don’t exist. Limitless forgiveness? It’s a whole lot easier to forgive when we get a public apology, so that the world can know that we are right. Jesus may have taught us the things that make for peace, but putting them into practice, embracing that radical ethic of peacemaking, can feel easier said than done. Help us, Jesus.

In our reading from Matthew’s gospel, the risen Lord gave his friends an assignment that must have felt just as daunting as our calling to be peacemakers. Jesus sent his friends out into the world, not just to their Jewish neighbors but to all the nations—that means gentiles. The gospel of God’s great love for all people needed to be shared and the disciples were the people to do it. They would need to talk about their experience and belief with complete strangers who seemed likely to reject them as religious fanatics. Then, through baptism the disciples were to welcome a growing crowd of people who never mixed into the family of God. I imagine the disciples, especially those who struggled with doubt, found themselves thinking as we might: that great commission sounds easier said than done, Jesus.

Jesus assured his friends that they were more than enough to meet the challenge. It wasn’t that they were gifted public speakers or had access to the halls of power. It wasn’t that they had charismatic personalities or had spent their lives studying the Torah. Rather, Jesus’ friends would be fine because Jesus would be with them always. By the power of the Holy Spirit, Jesus would meet them where they were and as they were. His great love for them would follow them, even to the end of the age. Bible scholars like to call these words of Jesus the “promise of eschatological presence.” Jesus is with us always.

The “promise of eschatological presence”? Those are some fancy theological words, but when we think about it, we know the nearness of Jesus. We feel his presence in times of prayer and contemplation. We sense his wonder in our forays into the beauty of God’s creation. We know he is with us on Sunday mornings as scripture is proclaimed and the Lord’s Supper is shared. We feel Jesus’s love when others love us at our most unlovable. Jesus is there when someone turns the other cheek to our bad behavior. Jesus is there when we find common ground with our alienated friend. Jesus taps us on the shoulder when we find the courage to seek forgiveness and accept the grace of others. The presence of Jesus equipped his disciples to go forth with God’s love; the presence of Jesus equips us to go forth as peacemakers.

Just as we trust that Jesus is with us, the Presbyterian Peacemaking Program allows us to be with others around the world who are desperately in need of peace, safety, and love. In November, Presbyterian Peacemaking and Presbyterian Disaster Assistance reported that they were partnering with the Middle East Council of Churches to provide humanitarian assistance amid the Israel-Hamas War. Emergency food and hygiene kits have been distributed to displaced people. Damaged housing is being repaired. Churches and community centers, that have been hosting homeless families, are receiving much-needed support. Medical and hospital supplies have been shared. Counseling help has supported those traumatized by the conflict.

For 2024, the PCUSA is teaming with the ACT Alliance to continue this work on a broader scale. ACT stands for Actions by Churches Together. It is a partnership of 145 church groups in 127 countries who are committed to peace and human security. With ACT, we have pledged $5 million in humanitarian assistance to the conflict in the Middle East with a goal of improving the lives of 50,000 individuals. Our contributions to Peacemaking are a visionary statement that, like Jesus, we are committed to being with others, even when life feels overwhelming and the way forward is hard to see.

The world longs for peace this morning. Jesus has hope for us. He has taught us the things that make for peace and promised to be with us. I trust that the Lord can even be at work in the chaos and pain of the Israel-Hamas War. Jesus is with displaced people, like Halima Abu Daqa, who have lost everything. Jesus is with concerned Israelis, like Udi Goren, who seek a way forward to end the violence. May we be a part of the peace.

Resources

Ephrain Agosto. “Exegetical Perspective on Matthew 28:16-20” in Feasting on the Gospels: Matthew, vol. 2, (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press), 2013.

Daniel Estrin. “Israelis are increasingly questioning what war in Gaza can achieve” in NPR Special Series: Middle East Crisis Explained, January 11, 2024. Accessed online at https://www.npr.org/2024/01/11/1223636086/israel-hamas-war-gaza-victory

Josel Federman. “In 100 days, the Israel-Hamas war has transformed the region. The fighting shows no signs of ending” in the Associated Press World News, January 13, 2024. Accessed online at https://apnews.com/article/israel-hamas-war-100-days-palestinians-takeaways-05422978a87ab52d51df152bc9248a7f

Julia Frankel. “As Israel-Hamas war reaches 100-day mark, here’s the conflict by numbers” in the Associated Press World News, January 13, 2024. Accessed online at https://apnews.com/article/war-gaza-israel-hamas-100-numbers-death-c4d6d42269c3cd6bf74d4e6fc612114e

Martha Moore-Keish. “Theological Perspective on Matthew 28:16-20” in Feasting on the Gospels: Matthew, vol. 2, (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press), 2013.

Scott O’Neal.  “Presbyterian Mission Agency ministries authorize funds to support relief efforts in Israel-Palestine” in Presbyterian News Service, Nov. 8, 2023. Accessed online at https://www.presbyterianmission.org/

William H. Willimon. “Pastoral Perspective on Matthew 28:16-20” in Feasting on the Gospels: Matthew, vol. 2, (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press), 2013.

Matthew 28:16-20

16Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. 17When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. 18And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. 19Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

attribution: AP Photo, Hatern Ali, accessed online at https://apnews.com/article/israel-hamas-war-100-days-palestinians-takeaways-05422978a87ab52d51df152bc9248a7f

Torn Open

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Torn Open” Mark 1:4-11

Elena Bernal was not looking forward to the holidays. The sixty-six-year-old was widowed three years ago in December. Home feels quiet and lonely now, especially at Christmas. Elena breaks down in tears, just thinking about her loss. “We grew up together,” she says of her late husband, “We met in middle school. I miss him so much.”

The world is in the midst of a loneliness epidemic. A Meta-Gallup poll released in October conducted in 142 countries found that one quarter of the world’s population reports feeling very or fairly lonely. The statistics are even higher in the United States. In May, the Surgeon General Dr. Vivek Murthy released a report indicating that half of Americans report experiencing loneliness.

There are a number of reasons for our national surge in loneliness. In this post-pandemic world, more people are working and learning remotely. We’re communicating more remotely, too, with Facetime and Zoom replacing meetings, visits, and face-to-face gatherings. Larger societal changes further contribute to the problem of loneliness. The social media boom, which presents a distorted, idealized vision of the daily life of others, has us scrolling on our phones rather than picking up our phones to make a call to our friends and family. More of us live alone these days. In 1960, only 13% of Americans lived by themselves. Today that number has more than doubled to 29% of us. We may feel it is tougher to form genuine connections, too. In 1972, 45% of us trusted our neighbors. In the midst of the increasing political and social division of our nation, only about 30% of us now say that our neighbors are trustworthy.

Loneliness is bad for our health. It puts us at increased risk for depression, anxiety, addiction, self-harm, and even suicide. The Surgeon General’s report indicates that loneliness increases the risk of premature death by 26%. It’s worse for us than obesity or inactivity. Dr. Murthy compares loneliness to smoking fifteen cigarettes a day. It increases our risk of heart disease by 29%, our risk of stroke by 32%, and among the elderly, the risk of dementia doubles. Feelings of loneliness have seen the greatest increase among those aged 19 to 29. Half of young adults say that in the last week no one had taken more than a few moments to reach out to them or express any sort of genuine care.

If the Meta-Gallup poll and the US Surgeon General are right, then addressing the epidemic of loneliness and isolation is critical to the world’s well-being.

I suspect that there were feelings of loneliness and isolation at play in the crowds who came to hear the fiery preaching of John the Baptist. John spoke boldly of existential loneliness, the alienation and isolation that come when we feel that we are separated from God and our neighbors. In fact, John proclaimed a bold message of repentance, of returning to right relationship with God and community.

Jesus came to the muddy banks of the River Jordan.  He took a seat among the crowds and listened to what John had to say.  Throngs of pilgrims, the whole Judean countryside, had come to gawk at John and listen to his bold exhortation. If we listen up this morning, we can almost hear the rough voice of the Baptizer, the song of the river, and the murmuring of the entranced crowds. Compelled by the power of John’s message, Jesus kicked off his sandals, set aside his staff, bag, and traveling cloak.  He waded into the gritty Jordan to John’s side, and he was baptized. 

We’re told that when Jesus emerged from the river, something extraordinary happened.  The sky was torn open (sxizomenous).  In the Hebrew understanding of the world, the sky was a solid dome, the firmament, established by God at creation.  The Israelites believed that we lived on this side of the firmament while God was on the other. Separate. Holy. Distant. Apart. The Prophet Isaiah gives us a feeling for this separation between God and humanity. When the Israelites lived in exile in Babylon, Isaiah cried out to God, “O, that you would tear open the heavens and come down!” (Isaiah 64:1).  At Jesus’ baptism, God tore open the heavens. God entered into the world to reshape it through this humble carpenter from Galilee.

Jesus went forth from his baptism to live a torn-open life, a life marked by compassion and a willingness to be vulnerable with and for others. He identified with those who lived as outsiders. He called fishermen, tax collectors, and peasants to be his disciples. He broke bread with sinners. Jesus advocated for the powerless – welcoming women to his ministry and blessing the children. Jesus healed, ending the physical, social, and spiritual isolation of lepers, demoniacs, and the disabled. The torn-open Jesus confronted empire and Temple, those who wielded brutal power over others, with the promise of a coming Kingdom where power would be used to help and to heal.

Jesus’s choice for a torn-open life was most clearly revealed in his death on the cross. Even as he underwent unimaginable suffering, he thought of others. He welcomed a repentant thief to paradise. He prayed for God to forgive his executioners. Let’s face it. On the cross, Jesus was literally torn open. Nails brutally pierced his hands and feet. A spear was thrust through his side and into his vital organs.  It’s messy and brutal and awful. And we learn the lengths that God will go for our sake, the limitless love of a torn-open God.

At the moment of Christ’s death, we are reminded of his baptism. The curtain in the Temple that sequestered the holy of holies was torn open from top to bottom. We do not hear God’s voice speaking from the heavens, “This is my Son the Beloved;” rather, a Roman soldier at the foot of the cross, who witnessed the compassion and dignity with which Jesus died, pronounced, “Surely, this man was God’s son.” In living a torn-open life, Jesus granted us a vision of the world that God would have us make. It’s a world where faithful people choose to make a difference by facing head-on all that has separated us from God and one another. It’s world where we trust that on the far side of the world’s worst, new life will rise, and we have a role to play in that new creation.

Michael Rogness, who taught preaching for many years at Luther Seminary, likes to point out that to be baptized is to follow Jesus. We, who were sprinkled as infants, confirmed as teens, or chose baptism as adults, have embarked on a life of discipleship. That doesn’t mean that we are perfect or exceptionally pious, walk on water or know every chapter and verse of scripture. Rather, discipleship is that choice for a torn-open life of compassion and caring. It prompts us to feed hungry neighbors, welcome strangers, embrace those who feel like outsiders, and bless children. The torn-open life is a calling to help, to heal, and to love. Always love.

Our choice to follow Jesus in this torn-open life may be the antidote for the world’s epidemic of loneliness. According to the Surgeon General, social connection is the most important tool in overcoming social isolation. Human beings who are embedded in a web of concerned and caring individuals thrive. Our interest and caring for others are as essential to our well-being—and theirs—as the air we breathe and the food we eat. Medical science confirms that the world becomes healthier, physically and mentally, when people are respected and valued, looked after and look out for. Our loving care and interest in others, our choice to be torn open, changes us and changes others. Loneliness ends. We find meaning, purpose, motivation, and hope. We begin to see the world that Jesus would have us make, where the barriers that separate us from our neighbors and disconnect us from God are torn open.

Elena Bernal’s Christmas was a lot better than she expected. She accepted an invitation to attend Christmas lunch at the Serving Seniors Wellness Center in Cortez Hills where she lives. Serving Seniors is a nonprofit organization that is dedicated to helping low-income seniors. They provide nutritious food, but they believe the social interaction and hospitality that are shared when they break bread together is even more important. Elena ran into an old friend Gwendolyn King at the lunch. The two women visited and shared news as they enjoyed a traditional holiday meal. Alan Busteed, looking dapper in a three-piece suit, moved from table to table playing carols on his violin and taking requests. As Elena left, she was given a Christmas present and a $10 gift card. It was nice, really nice.

The Serving Seniors Wellness Center has a banner that hangs above the buffet. It reads, “Remember, you are a citizen of the world, and everybody needs you. You’ll find happiness in the giving of yourself.” If you ask me, it sounds a lot like a torn-open life.

Resources

Tammy Murga. “Christmas Day can be lonely, quiet for many. Serving Seniors made it a fun one for these San Diegans,” in The San Diego Union-Tribune, Dec. 25, 2023. Accessed online at https://www.sandiegouniontribune.com/

Dr. Vivek Murthy, Julianne Holt-Lunstad, et al. Our Epidemic of Loneliness and Isolation: The Surgeon General’s Advisory on the Healing Effects of Social Connection and Community. Washington, DC: Office of the Surgeon General, May 2, 2023. Accessed online at https://www.hhs.gov/sites/default/files/surgeon-general-social-connection-advisory.pdf

Paul S. Berge. “Commentary on Mark 1:4-11” in Preaching This Week, January 8, 2012. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Michael Rogness. “Commentary on Mark 1:4-11” in Preaching This Week, January 8, 2012. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Adrianna Rodriguez. “Americans Are Lonely and It’s Killing Them” in USA Today, Dec. 24, 2023. Accessed online at https://www.usatoday.com.

Theresa Coleman. “2023: The Year of the Loneliness Epidemic” in The Week Magazine, December 9, 2023. Accessed online at https://theweek.com.

Mark 1:4-11

4John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. 5And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. 6Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. 7He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. 8I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” 9In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. 10And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. 11And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Beloved Christmas Hymns and Their Stories

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Beloved Christmas Hymns and Their Stories” Luke 2:22-40

In our scripture lesson this morning, the infant Jesus encounters two people who waited a very long time to greet the Messiah: Simeon and Anna. While Luke records their words, tradition tells us that the two sang their praises for the newborn king. How fitting, then, it is to celebrate this first Sunday of Christmastide with a celebration of some of our most loved Christmas hymns and their stories.

“Good Christian Friends, Rejoice” is one of our oldest Christmas hymns.  This medieval carol dates to the fourteenth century. The words are believed to have been written by Peter of Dresden, who served as the Rector of the Christian School in Dresden.  He may have written it for his students.  Peter was fired from his post and forced to flee to Prague in 1412 because of his religious convictions. He was a follower of the early church Reformer Johann (Jan) Huss, whose work anticipated the 16th century work of church leaders like Luther and Calvin. Huss, however, was burned at the stake for translating the Bible from Latin into the language of the people.  Peter of Dresden died in exile around 1440.  The first printed record of the hymn is found in the University of Leipzig library and dates to 1405. 

The sprightly music, IN DULCI JUBILO, is a German folk tune from the fourteenth century. It has long served as the setting for Peter’s words.

The words of “In the Bleak Midwinter” are a poem, written by Christina Rossetti. Christina (1830-1894) was born in London to an Italian exile family. Her father was a political refugee, classics scholar and poet, who taught at King’s College. She received her education at home with private tutors and her mother, who was also a classics scholar. Her sister and two brothers, like Christina, were poets and writers. Known as one of the great beauties of her day, Rosetti was a model for several artists.  Although admired and beloved by many, Rosetti’s first and lasting love was the Lord.  She rejected three proposals of marriage on religious grounds. She was an abolitionist, early advocate for animal rights, and volunteered for a number of years at the St. Mary Magdalene house of charity, a refuge for former prostitutes. Christina exerted influence and garnered praise from such literary notables as Gerard Manley Hopkins, Alfred Lord Tennyson, and Virgina Woolf.

The hymn tune we sing today, CRANHAM, was composed for Rosetti’s poem by Gustav Theodore Holst in 1906. Like Christina, Holst was the child of political refugees who found sanctuary in Britain. Holst is best known for his orchestral suite “The Planets.”

The words of “O Little Town of Bethlehem” were written by one of the most popular preachers of the 19th century Phillips Brooks. On Christmas Eve of 1865, Brooks traveled from Jerusalem to Bethlehem by horseback to attend worship at the Church of the Nativity, built at the site of Jesus’s birth.  Brooks recalled that inspiring evening, saying, “I remember standing in the old church in Bethlehem close to the spot where Jesus was born when the whole church was ringing hour after hour with splendid hymns of praise to God, how again and again it seemed as if I could hear voices I knew well, telling each other of the wonderful night of the Savior’s birth.” Three years later, as Brooks served a church in Philadelphia, he recalled his magical night and wrote these words.

The music was composed for these lyrics by the church organist, Lewis Redner. Brooks requested a new composition to match his lyrics, but Redner struggled to come up with a tune. On the night before the Christmas program, inspiration struck. Redner awoke with this music ringing in his ears.

The words to “Hark! the Herald Angels Sing” were written by that most prolific of 18th century British hymnwriters Charles Wesley. Tradition tells us that Wesley wrote constantly, even while riding on horseback. When inspiration struck, Wesley would stop his horse, run to the nearest house, and ask for pen and ink. He was said to have averaged ten poetic lines a day for fifty years. He wrote 8,989 hymns, ten times the number composed by the only other candidate (Isaac Watts) who could conceivably claim to be the world’s greatest hymn writer.

Wesley was notoriously intolerant of anyone changing his words. As originally written by Wesley in 1739, this hymn began, “Hark, how all the welkin rings.” Welkin?! “Welkin” is an Old English word for the firmament or vault of heaven. It was as unfamiliar to singers in the 18th century as it is to us today. Fourteen years later in 1753, Wesley’s friend George Whitefield overcame Wesley’s objections and changed the words to make them more accessible. People have been singing “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” ever since.

Our next Christmas hymn, “The First Nowell,” originally had eleven verses!  Perhaps we are thankful that only six are preserved in our hymnal. This traditional English carol was first recorded in Cornwall and published in 1823. The carol is believed to be much older, with roots dating to the Middle Ages. 

“Nowell” is derived from the Old French word Nouel, which in turn comes from the Latin word natalis, which means birth.  Some say that there are also overtones of nouvelle (new) in Nowell, giving it a secondary meaning of declaring something newsworthy – like the Medieval version of “Extra!  Extra!  Read all about it!”

Regardless of its true origins, people have been saying and singing “Nowell” for a very long time.  In fact, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, the earliest recorded use of Nowell as a Christmas greeting dates to the year 1255 when Chaucer used it in his “Franklin’s Tale,” writing, “and Nowel crieth every lusty man.”

“Go, Tell It on the Mountain” comes to us from the tradition of African American spirituals. The words allude to Isaiah 52:7, “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of the messenger who announces peace, who brings good news, who announces salvation, who says to Zion, ‘Your God reigns.’”

The spiritual was first published by African American scholar and musicologist John Wesley Work.  The son of a church choir director, Work grew up in Nashville and taught Latin and music at the historic black college Fisk University. With his wife and his brother, Frederick Jerome Work, he began collecting slave songs and spirituals across the south in the late 19th century, publishing them in two volumes. The latter book, New Jubilee Songs and Folk Songs of the American Negro (1907), included the first publication of “Go Tell It on the Mountain.”

Work directed the “Jubilee Singers,” a select choir of the university which toured extensively, including travel to Europe where they were well received and raised significant funds for their school. Work was forced to resign from his post at Fisk in 1923. The traditional songs that he so loved were considered backwards and unpopular by academics on the Fisk faculty, who sought to leave behind the painful history of slavery. Undaunted by his departure from Fisk, Work then served as president of Roger Williams University in Nashville until his death in 1925.

Luke 2:22-40

22When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord 23(as it is written in the law of the Lord, “Every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to the Lord”), 24and they offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord, “a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons.”

25Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. 26It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. 27Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, 28Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying, 29“Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; 30for my eyes have seen your salvation, 31which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, 32a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.” 33And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. 34Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed 35so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.” 36There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, 37then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshiped there with fasting and prayer night and day. 38At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem. 39When they had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. 40The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.

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Christmas Bells

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Poem for a Tuesday — “Christmas Bells” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
    And wild and sweet
    The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
    Had rolled along
    The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
    A voice, a chime,
    A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
    And with the sound
    The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
    And made forlorn
    The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
“There is no peace on earth,” I said;
    “For hate is strong,
    And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
    The Wrong shall fail,
    The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men.”

in A Christmas Treasury of Yuletide Stories and Poems, ed. James Charlton and Barbara Gilson (New York: Guild America Books, 1976), pp. 302-303.

Luke 2:14

“Glory to God in the highest,
And on earth peace, goodwill toward men!”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was the most popular poet of his day. Born in Portland in 1807, his grandfather was the congressman and Revolutionary War hero General Peleg Wadsworth. His father Stephen Longfellow was a lawyer and founder of Bowdoin College, where Henry studied, met his lifelong friend Nathaniel Hawthorn, and graduated in 1825. Henry taught at Bowdoin and later at Harvard College. He was such an admired figure during his life that his seventieth birthday in 1877 was celebrated across the nation with parades, speeches, and the reading of his poetry. “Christmas Bells,” written in 1863, reflects Longfellow’s grief over the Civil War and the death of his wife Frances “Fanny” Appleton.

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Christ the Savior Is Born!

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Christ the Savior Is Born” Luke 2:1-7

Every Christmas Eve, we host a family-friendly service of worship at church for the children and those feeling a bit childlike. This Christmas, we shared the stories of the Angel Gabriel, the shepherds Reuben and Simka, and the Wise Ones. Merry Christmas, my friends!

“The Most Important Message”

As told by Gabriel

Greetings, favored ones! Do I have a story to tell you! Whew! Let me catch my breath. I just flew in from the great beyond.

(Takes a seat in the rocker and pretends to take a big drink from a goblet).

That’s much better. How very nice to meet you! I’m the Angel Gabriel, God’s finest messenger. Whenever there is important news to share, you can count on me to get the word out.

Many, many years ago, God had the most important message of all to share. It was a very difficult time in the life of the Hebrew people. King Herod was in charge and he had to be the greediest and the grouchiest king ever. He loved to build fancy palaces, and who do you think had to pay for them? The people! Herod got richer and richer, but the people got poorer and poorer.

The people dreamed of the day when a true king would come to Israel. In fact, God had long ago promised to send a special child who would grow up to be their king.  This child would speak God’s words to the people. This child would teach them how to love God and love one another.  This child would be holy.  The people so longed for the birth of this child that they used to sing about it,

Sings: “O come, O come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel…”

Do you know what Emmanuel means?  It means “God with us.”  This special child to be born to the Hebrew people would remind them that God was with them, even when their lives felt very hard.

One day, God knew that the time was right for this special baby to be born.  Of course, there was only one messenger who could carry news that important: me!

God said, “Gabriel, I have an extra special mission for you.  Go to the village of Nazareth in Galilee.  There you will find a young woman named Mary.”

I have to say that when I heard I had to go to Nazareth, I wondered if God had the right destination. Nazareth! You know what they say about Nazareth: can anything good come from there? It was just a poor and sleepy little village, filled with farmers and carpenters and shepherds. And how would I find the right Mary?   It had to be the most popular name for girls in all of Israel. 

I must have looked like I was confused because God smiled at me. My heart got all warm, my halo began to glow, and I just knew that God had it all figured out. 

God said, “Go to young Mary, who is engaged to the carpenter Joseph, who is descended from the house of King David.  Tell her that I have chosen her from among all the women in Israel to bear a holy child.” 

Well, I was ready to fly off right away, but God stopped me and said, “Gabriel, don’t forget to tell Mary that her baby boy will be the Messiah. She is to name him Jesus because he will save the people from their sins.”

So off I went to Nazareth.  The village was even more miserable than I remembered.  It didn’t seem like a very promising place for the Messiah to be born, but God always knows what God is doing.  Even humble beginnings can lead to great things. 

In Nazareth, I found Mary.  Her mother had sent her to the well to collect water for her family. I must have been a very surprising sight.  Mary looked ready to run away, but I told her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.”  That got her attention.

Mary wasn’t much more than a girl, but as I looked into her eyes, I could tell that she was very special.  She was kind and generous. She liked to laugh, and she was very patient with her little brothers and sisters. Best of all, Mary loved God with all her heart.  I knew she was just right for the special mission that God had given her, so I told her, the Holy Spirit would be at work within her and she would give birth to the holy child that the people had longed for all through the long years.

Even though it sounded a little scary and really impossible to have such a special baby, Mary thought hard about the message that I had given her from God.  Then she gave the answer that God was counting on, “Here I am, Lord.  I’m ready to be the mother of that special child.”  Do you remember what that child would be named?

(wait as if to hear the name Jesus)

Right you are!  Jesus!

Well, you know me—God’s finest messenger. Time to deliver some more important news. Gotta go, but I have arranged for some special people to come and tell you all about the birth of that special child Jesus. 

Shalom, my friends!

“The Shepherds Hear Good News”

2 shepherds are seated at the campfire.  One sings,

“Go tell it on the mountain, over the hills and everywhere;

Go tell it on the mountain that Jesus Christ is born!”

Reuben:  Hey, we’ve got company!  Come on over, watch out for the lambs.  Take a seat by our campfire. 

Simka:  Did Gabriel send you? I bet you want to hear the story about that special night.  The night when the skies were filled with choirs of angels. They sang for us, sharing good news of great joy.

Reuben:  Those holy sounds are still ringing in my ears. 

Simka: Allow me to introduce myself.  I’m Simka, a shepherd by trade. 

Reuben:  And I’m Reuben.  We tend sheep and goats.  We spend most of our time with the flocks. 

Simka: We have to keep them moving so that they find green grass to nibble, clean water to drink, shade from the noonday sun, and shelter for the night. 

Reuben: (brandishes his staff) Sometimes, I have to keep them safe, too – protect them from wild dogs or even lions. 

Simka: It’s hard work being a shepherd – it takes patience and bravery.  At night, we shepherds bring our flocks together. 

Reuben: We light a small fire, share a meal, tell stories, and take turns watching the animals.  Can’t you just imagine us with the other shepherds at the campfire with our flocks gathered around us? 

Simka: Well, the story that we’re about to tell you is the best story ever.  I know because I was there.

Reuben: So was I!  One night, on the hills just outside of Bethlehem, we were spending the night with our flocks.

Simka: It was dark and quiet on the hillside – just like every night. Then suddenly, there was a great light, shining and sparkling in the sky.  

(Gestures to the sky, pointing to where the angels appeared.)

Reuben: We looked up and saw an angel, a messenger from the Lord. The glory of God shone down upon us, all shimmery and beautiful and good. 

Simka: We were so amazed that we were also very frightened. Nothing like this had ever happened to us before, and we didn’t know whether to cry or laugh or run away – or maybe all three!

Reuben:  The angel could see just how frightened and uncertain we were, so the angel said to us, (speaks in a loud angel voice) “Don’t be afraid. I bring you good news which will be a great joy to all people. Today, in the town of Bethlehem, a Savior has been born, Christ the Lord. This will be the sign for you: you will find the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.” 

Simka:  Suddenly, there was a huge crowd of heaven’s angels with the first angel.  They filled the whole sky with their light and their wonderful song, “Glory to God in the highest and peace to God’s people on earth.”  The memory of those angel voices still gives me the shivers!

Reuben: When the angels had left and gone back to the heavens, we looked at one another in amazement.  We pinched ourselves to make sure that we were really awake. 

Simka: Then, we began to wonder.  Could this baby be THE BABY?  You know, the special baby that God had promised to our people, a baby who was God’s child, who would grow up to be a great king for our people. 

Reuben: There was only way to find out. We had to go to Bethlehem and see for ourselves. We left our sheep on the hillside and hurried into the village.

Simka: When we got to Bethlehem, we looked around until we found Mary and Joseph in the stable.  And there he was! The baby Jesus was lying in the manger.

Reuben: It was just as the angel had promised!  This was our newborn king!  Seeing him filled us with hope. We celebrated and told Mary and Joseph all the things that the angels had said about the child.

Simka: Even the animals seemed to find joy and peace in the presence of the baby. I think even the camels were smiling! As wereturned to our flocks, we were filled with joy.  We sang and praised God at the top of our lungs. 

Reuben: The villagers thought we had stopped at the tavern for a libation, but we were just filled with the Holy Spirit.  God had sent a holy child who would be the savior of our people. 

Simka:  Do you know who that child was?

(cups her hand to her ear and waits to hear, “Jesus.”)

That’s right, Jesus!  Holy be his name!

Reuben sings:

“Go tell it on the mountain, over the hills and everywhere;

Go tell it on the mountain that Jesus Christ is born!”

The Wise Ones Seek the Newborn King

Props: a Bible Atlas, bincoulars

The Scene: Two wise men stand at the front of the sanctuary.  One is pondering a Bible Atlas.  The other scans the horizon with the binoculars.

Balthazar (with Atlas):  I wonder what happened to Melchior.  We sent him over to Blue Moon more than an hour ago for bagels and coffee.  I’m hungry!

Caspar (with binoculars):  You know his sense of direction. I bet he got lost.

Balthazar: Hey, Caspar, put those binoculars down. We’ve got company.

Caspar: Greetings honored guests!  (bows humbly)  I’m Caspar, the youngest and most handsome of the Magi. If only Melchior had returned, we would invite you to share breakfast with us.

Balthazar (grandly):  Allow me to introduce myself.  I am Balthazar, the wisest of the Magi.  Give me a star chart and a telescope and I can take you from one end of the Milky Way to the other – and back. 

Caspar:  I am only a young and humble learner, yet even I can tell you the secret language of the heavens.  (Listens carefully.)  Ah!  Alpha Centauri just ordered brunch!  Hey! She ordered lox for her bagels! Why didn’t I think of that? I hear the lox is so good at Blue Moon, too!

Balthazar (rolls eyes):  We have spent many, many years learning the mysteries of the heavens. Great Kings call on us for advice.  They wouldn’t so much as launch a ship or build a palace without checking with us first to see if it was in the stars. 

Caspar:  As long as you’re here and we’re waiting for Melchior with the coffee, allow us to tell you about our greatest journey ever.  Back in our homeland Persia, we saw a star.  (points to the heavens) 

Balthazar (stands extra tall with importance):  This was a special star, the star of a king. The heavens were telling us that a child was to be born who would be the king of the Jews!  God had promised this child to the people from of old – a Messiah, a Prince of Peace who would lead the people in paths of peace. 

Caspar:  Like a beacon, the star called us across the desert sands to Israel:  (speaking with the voice of the star) “Balthazar, Caspar, Melchior!  Come, come to Israel to see the little tiny Hebrew King!”

Balthazar (rolls eyes):  So, we left Persia with a great caravan to meet and worship the newborn king.  We brought special treasures, gifts to honor the baby king. 

Caspar:  Gold! Hah, hah!  A king’s ransom!

Balthazar:  Frankincense!  A fragrant offering fit for the holiest of children!

Caspar:  Myrrh! Ooh-hooo! The rarest of oils to anoint the greatest of kings!

Balthazar:  At last, our caravan came to Jerusalem, the holy city.  We stopped at King Herod’s Palace, seeking the newborn king.  But alas!  Herod the Great new nothing of our Messiah.

Caspar:  He was very interested, though, in what we had to say. 

Balthazar:  Herod gave us directions to Bethlehem, the city of David.  Long ago, the Hebrew prophets had foretold that from Bethlehem the true heir of King David would one day arise.

Caspar:  That Herod, what a great guy!  He even wanted us to come back when we found the little king so that he could give him a special present.

Balthazar:  Across the miles from Jerusalem to Bethlehem, we rode our camels through shepherd’s fields and olive groves.  Ahead of us in the night sky, rode the star of wonder.  It led us to the strangest of places.

Caspar:  You see, we believed that we would find the holy child in a great palace, swaddled in silks and tended by an army of nannies.  But God had something different in mind. 

Balthazar:  We found the little king in the humblest of homes.  He had been born in a stable, surrounded by camels, sheep, goats, chickens, and oxen!  His mother was the youngest of maids, not much more than a girl.  Her husband Joseph was a humble craftsman, a carpenter by trade.

Caspar (in awe):  Yet the star stopped and shone its beautiful light upon that humble dwelling, upon that tender babe.  The heavens had brought us to the Lord of the Universe!

Balthazar (confessing):  Even I, the mighty Balthazar – the wisest of the Magi – was overcome by the wonder of that moment and the holiness of the child.

Caspar:  We fell to our knees in worship.  Then we shared our royal gifts.

Balthazar:  We would have stayed in Bethlehem forever to worship him.  Yet we were warned in a dream to leave, to return home by another way.

Caspar:  The heavens told us to avoid King Herod at all costs!  It seems he wasn’t such a nice guy after all.

Balthazar:  Returning by another way brought us to your lovely village, honored guests.

Caspar:  Hey!  I think I smell coffee!  (points to the back of the church) Look!  It’s Melchior.  Hey, can you go back and add lox to my order!

(The Wise Men depart with singing)

“Star of wonder, Star of night, Star with royal beauty bright,

westward leading, still proceeding, guide us to thy perfect light!”

Luke 2:1-20

2In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3All went to their own towns to be registered. 4Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. 5He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. 6While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 7And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. 8In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: 11to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 12This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” 13And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, 14“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”[ 15When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” 16So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. 17When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; 18and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. 19But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. 20The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.]

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Not Only the Eskimos

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Poem for a Tuesday — “Not Only the Eskimos” by Lisel Mueller

We have only one noun

but as many different kinds:

the grainy snow of the Puritans

and snow of soft, fat flakes,

guerrilla snow, which comes in the night

and changes the world by morning,

rabbinical snow, a permanent skullcap

on the highest mountains,

snow that blows in like the Lone Ranger,

riding hard from out of the West,

surreal snow in the Dakotas,

when you can’t find your house, your street,

though you are not in a dream

or a science-fiction movie,

snow that tastes good to the sun

when it licks black tree limbs,

leaving us only one white stripe,

a replica of a skunk,

unbelievable snows:

the blizzard that strikes on the tenth of April,

the false snow before Indian summer,

the Big Snow on Mozart’s birthday,

when Chicago became the Elysian Fields

and strangers spoke to each other,

paper snow, cut and taped,

to the inside of grade-school windows,

in an old tale, the snow

that covers a nest of strawberries,

small hearts, ripe and sweet,

the special snow that goes with Christmas,

whether it falls or not,

the Russian snow we remember

along with the warmth and smell of furs,

though we have never traveled

to Russia or worn furs,

Villon’s snows of yesteryear,

lost with ladies gone out like matches,

the snow in Joyce’s “The Dead,”

the silent, secret snow

in a story by Conrad Aiken,

which is the snow of first love,

the snowfall between the child

and the spacewoman on TV,

snow as idea of whiteness,

as in snowdrop, snow goose, snowball bush,

the snow that puts stars in your hair,

and your hair, which has turned to snow,

the snow Elinor Wylie walked

in in velvet shoes,

the snow before her footprints

and the snow after,

the snow in the back of our heads,

whiter than white, which has to do

with childhood again each year.

Lisel Mueller emigrated to the United States from Germany in 1939 at the age of fifteen. Her father Fritz C. Neumann was an early, outspoken critic of the National Socialist Party. Arrested and interrogated by the Gestapo in 1935, he fled to Italy before being granted asylum in America. Lisel began writing poetry following her mother’s death in 1953. She received the National Book Award for Poetry in 1981 for The Need to Hold Still and the Pulitzer Prize in 1997 for Alive Together: New & Selected Poems. Lisel’s work probed questions of history and identity, sometimes with a lyrical – or even humorous – sensibility. She once said of her craft, “I write a lot of poems that have tension between what is going on now in society and what has always been there. My poems are much concerned with history. The message is obvious. My family went through terrible times. In Europe no one has had a private life not affected by history. I’m constantly aware of how privileged we (Americans) are.”

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The Hermit

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Poem for a Tuesday — “The Hermit” by Jane Kenyon

The meeting ran needlessly late,
and while yawns were suppressed around the room
the river swelled until it spilled.
When the speaker finished, I made for the car
and home as fast as fog would allow —
until I came upon a barricade: beyond,
black pools eddied over the road. Detour.
The last familiar thing I saw: the steaming
heaps of bark beside the lumber mill.

No other cars on the narrow, icy lane; no house
or barn for miles, until the lights of a Christmas tree
shone from the small windows of a trailer.
And then I knew I couldn’t be far
from the East Village and the main road.
I was terribly wide awake. . . .

To calm myself I thought of drinking water
at the kitchen sink, in the circle of light
the little red lamp makes in the evening. . .
of half-filling a second glass
and splashing it into the dish of white narcissus
growing on the sill. In China
this flower is called the hermit,
and people greet the turning of the year
with bowls of freshly-opened blossoms.

in Claiming the Spirit Within, ed. Marilyn Sewell. (Boston: Beacon Press, 1996) p. 312.

Jane Kenyon (1947-1995) grew up in Michigan but settled as a young adult in New Hampshire at the family farm of her husband, the poet and academic Donald Hall. Jane published four books of poetry in her too-short life. Her work is celebrated for her exploration of rural life, nature, and living with depression. She received the prestigious Hopwood Award at the University of Michigan and the PEN/Voelcker Award for Poetry. At the time of her death from leukemia in 1995, Kenyon was the Poet Laureate of New Hampshire.

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Messengers

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Messengers” Mark 1:1-8

When we want to send a message, we pick up our phones and tap out a text. We may even resort to a phone call. For longer messages, we’ll sit down at the computer to send an email. All those modes of communication get the message out instantaneously. If we are old school, we might pick up a pen and write a letter, carefully seal it in an envelope, apply a stamp, and drop it off at the post office, trusting that our snail mail will reach its destination across the country in a matter of days.

To send a message in the ancient near east, you needed a messenger, someone who would carry your words to their intended destination. Messengers traveled long distances on important purposes, sometimes at great risk.

There were royal messengers. In the fifth century BC, the Persian Emperor Darius developed the Royal Road, a network of mounted couriers called the Angarium. They efficiently transmitted imperial messages from Susa in modern-day Iran to Sardis in modern day Turkey. Like the pony express, the mounted messengers of the Angarium worked in relays. They reportedly could make the 1,677-mile journey in nine days, a journey that would take ninety days on foot. The Greek historian Herodotus was so impressed that he wrote, “There is nothing in the world that travels faster than these Persian couriers.” “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.” If those words sound familiar, it is because they are sometimes quoted as the unofficial slogan of the United States Postal Service. 

The Romans expanded this early postal system with engineering work that forged lasting roadways along ancient trade routes that dated back thousands of years. The Romans employed military messengers who brought news to and from the battlefield. A messenger with good news carried a laurel wreath, heralding victory. A messenger with bad news attached a feather to his spear, indicating the need for haste. In the year four, when Gaius Caesar, the heir to the Roman throne, died in Lycia, a military messenger bore the news home. Bad weather forced the courier to travel the 1,345 miles overland. His journey took thirty-six days, averaging more than thirty-seven miles a day.

Of course, scripture tells us that there were religious messengers in the ancient world. When God’s word came to the prophets, they felt compelled to speak uncomfortable or surprising truths to humanity. God sent the reluctant Jonah to Nineveh to preach repentance. God sent the Prophet Elijah to trouble King Ahab and Queen Jezebel by denouncing their idolatry. Messengers from God never knew what to expect. In Jonah’s case, his tough message was welcomed and the whole city returned to right living. In Elijah’s case, he spent most of his life on the run or battling the prophets of Baal. It’s a whole lot easier to tap out a text, make a call, send an email, or resort to snail mail. Isn’t it?

Mark’s gospel bypasses our beloved stories of Jesus’s birth.  There is no babe in a manger. No shepherds guarding their flocks by night. No wise ones from the east bearing royal gifts. Instead, Mark gives us a messenger: John.

Like a royal messenger, John conveyed a message from the Kingdom of God to the people of occupied Israel. Mark introduces John with the words of the Prophet Isaiah, “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.” When Isaiah first spoke those words, they heralded coming liberation for the Hebrew people. God would soon bring Israel’s time of exile in Babylon to an end, and the Israelites would return to their promised land. It may be lost on us, but to the Israelites, John’s introduction sounded like a promise of coming freedom from Roman occupation.

John’s urgency was that of a military messenger. The battle between good and evil had been won in heaven, but the battle was coming to an earthly battlefield. The one coming after John would confront the forces of empire and temple. Those forces would send God’s champion to his death on a cross. But just when it seemed that the forces of darkness had won the battle, a resurrection miracle would win the victory for God and for us.

John was also a religious messenger. With a camel-hide tunic, unappetizing diet of locusts and honey, and tense message, John fit the description of an Old Testament Prophet, like Elijah, who was expected to return to herald the Messiah. John brought good and bad news, a laurel wreath and the feather. The good news was that the messiah was coming. The bad news was that the people weren’t ready. They needed to repent, to turn their lives around and return to God.

John visits us every Advent. He’s the messenger who stirs a little bah humbug into our Christmas cheer. God sends John into the midst of our shopping and baking, our parties and pageants. John reminds us that we are meant to serve another Kingdom. That Kingdom is coming, whether we are ready or not. John is a timely reminder that our holiday preparations are always best when tempered by our spiritual preparation. John invites us to turn things around, to be centered in God with worship, prayer, study and the desire to be good news for the world around us.

The Apostle Paul characterized Christians as messengers. Paul and his friends would make at least four missionary journeys across the Roman Empire, covering thousands of miles by foot or by sea. In the course of those travels, Paul suffered stoning, beatings, imprisonment, shipwreck, and rejection. In the course of those travels, Paul also established more than twenty churches and launched a tide of caring and good news that today spans the globe.  In his second letter to the church in Corinth, Paul wrote, “We are messengers for Christ. God is using us to call people. So, we are standing here for Christ and begging people, ‘Come back to God’” (2 Cor. 5:20-21). It’s a message worthy of John the Baptist. It’s a message worthy of the second Sunday of Advent.

What might it look like for us to be messengers? I’m not suggesting that we put on John’s camel pelt and dine on locusts and honey. I’m not recommending that we saddle up and ride the Royal Road from Susa to Sardis. We don’t need to tie a laurel wreath or a feather to our spear and rush off with news from the battlefield. But I do believe that the world needs messengers. The world needs faithful people who will listen for God’s voice and speak God’s word. I’d like to suggest three messages that the world needs to hear.

The first message is that we are loved. In this hectic holiday season, not everyone is merry. Christmas for some of us raises painful memories of holidays past. Or, it may make us mindful of who will not be at Christmas dinner: the beloved ones lost to death, the family scattered across the miles, the son deployed to the middle east. Some of us may not feel we have much to celebrate this year: we’re sick, we’re broke, we’re depressed, we’re alone. Amid the merry Christmases, there will be blue Christmases. We are called to bear the message that God chose to be born into our suffering with limitless love. We can share that message with cards and calls, dinner invitations and small gifts, or by welcoming a neighbor to our Longest Night Service on Friday.

The second message worth bearing this Christmas is that God longs for peace on earth. Amid the falling bombs in Gaza, as rebel fighting intensifies in Congo, and the war in Ukraine grinds on amid worsening humanitarian conditions, God longs for peace. The angels heralded Jesus’s birth with the words, “Peace on earth. Good will among all people.” The risen Lord greeted his grieving disciples with the word, “Peace.” The biblical understanding of peace, shalom, means wholeness in body, mind, and spirit. We are messengers of peace when reconciliation puts an end to our family feud, when we bridge divides in community conflicts, and when we walk the tough path of bi-partisan work. We share the message of peace by standing against hate, working to stem the tide of gun violence, and seeking equal justice for all.

The third message that God might have us bear this holiday season is that we are not alone. The heavenly kingdom comes in the midst of this troubled world. Jesus proclaimed that the Kingdom is all around us. God is here. Christ is alive and still at work in the life of the world. The Rev. Tracy Daub, author of our Advent Study Holy Disruption, reminds us that Jesus works within the world’s chaos. Daub uses the story of Jesus stilling the storm on the Sea of Galilee to remind us that amid the forces of chaos that disrupt our lives, Jesus is powerfully on our side. We remind those around us of the presence of Christ when we share an Advent devotional, or invite a friend to a worship service, or we serve Christ in our vulnerable neighbors.

On this second Sunday of Advent, John the Baptist strides out of the wilderness and reminds us that the world needs messengers. The world needs faithful people who will listen for God’s voice and speak God’s word. We are loved. God longs for peace. We are not alone. How will we share the message this Advent, my friends?

Resources

Paul S. Berge. “Commentary on Mark 1:1-8” in Preaching This Week, Dec. 7, 2008. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Mark Alan Powell. “Commentary on Mark 1:1-8” in Preaching This Week, Dec. 7, 2014. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Karoline Lewis. “Commentary on Mark 1:1-8” in Preaching This Week, Dec. 4, 2011. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Barry J. Beitzel. “Travel and Communication” in The Anchor Bible Dictionary, ed. David Noel Friedman, vol. 6 (New York: Bantam, Doubleday, Dell, 1992).

Tracy S. Daub. Holy Disruption (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2022).

Mark 1:1-8

1The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

2As it is written in the prophet Isaiah,

“See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way;
3the voice of one crying out in the wilderness:‘ Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight,’”

4John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. 5And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. 6Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. 7He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. 8I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

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No One Knows

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “No One Knows” Mark 13:24-37

Christians have been trying to determine the date of the second coming ever since the first coming.

Irenaeus, the second century Bishop of Lyon, was an influential leader of the early church.  He believed that the world was created 5,500 years before Christ, and creation would come to an end after 6,000 years. According to Irenaeus, the Son of Man would return with great power and glory in the year 500. He was wrong.

In the seventeenth century, the English mathematician, physicist, astronomer, alchemist, and theologian Sir Isaac Newton believed that the number “1260” had particular significance in the prophetic books of the Bible. Newton theorized that the world would come to an end in the year 2060; that’s 1,260 years after the creation of the Holy Roman Empire. Proponents of Newton’s theory abandoned his point of view in 1806 when the last Holy Roman Emperor, Francis II of the House of Habsburg-Lorraine, abdicated his title and released all Imperial states and officials from their oaths and obligations to the empire.

William Miller was a 19th century American Baptist minister. He proclaimed that the Lord would return on October 22, 1844. His teaching was wildly popular, launching a religious movement known as Millerism. When Miller’s world-ending prophecy failed, his followers called it the Great Disappointment. Hiram Edson, who would go on to establish the Seventh Day Adventist Church, said, “Our fondest hopes and expectations were blasted, and such a spirit of weeping came over us as I never experienced before… We wept, and wept, till the day dawn.”

Jesus warned his followers that “no one knows” when the fateful return of the Son of Man will come. Neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father knows. Bible scholars like to call today’s reading from the thirteenth chapter of Mark’s gospel the “Little Apocalypse.”  As Jesus spoke these scary words, he was surrounded by his disciples.  From the Mount of Olives, they looked across the Kidron Valley to the Holy City of Jerusalem and the splendor of the Temple.  Jesus anticipated the sack of the city and the destruction of the Holy of Holies by the Romans in just a few decades, during the Jewish Rebellion against the empire.  In a coming world that would feel like the heavens were falling and the very fabric of creation was coming apart at the seams, Jesus knew that his followers would need purpose and a long view of God’s work in the world if they were going to endure.

To guide his disciples through the dark days to come, Jesus told a parable. He described a wealthy landowner preparing to depart on a long journey. Before leaving, he entrusted the care of his property to his slaves, knowing that each would be busy with his work until the watchful doorkeeper heralded the master’s return. In the first century world of the Mediterranean, slaves were essential in managing estates.  Cleaning house, tending animals, working fields, preparing meals, nurturing children, keeping accounts, and producing wine and olive oil, all depended upon the work of slaves.  Slaves were considered a part of the landowner’s family. In fact, the Latin word for the extended household of landowners and slaves together was familias—family. The intimacy and affection of the familias is preserved to this day in the ruins of Pompeii, which was destroyed by the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius in the year seventy-nine.  There we can read the words of a prayer inscribed on the walls of a household shrine, asking God for the safe return of a beloved master from a journey.

When we consider that social and historical context of slaves, masters, and the familias, we see that in today’s reading, Jesus was characterizing himself as the landowner. His arrest and execution were imminent. Before the week was out, Jesus would be betrayed, convicted, tortured, and executed. Although Jesus would rise and promise to come again in glory, for the disciples it would feel as if Jesus had gone on a very long journey, with no end in sight. In the coming years of watching and waiting, Jesus hoped that his friends would continue to faithfully and conscientiously serve him.  Just as a familias anticipated a master’s impending return with loyalty and service, the disciples would need to keep the faith and keep up the good work.  He trusted his friends to preach the gospel, heal the sick, tend to the vulnerable, and pray always for his speedy return, saying, “Maranatha!”  Come soon, Lord!

Many of us struggle with today’s reading because it is apocalyptic in tone – there is a sense of the immediacy of the Day of Judgment and a nearness of the return of Jesus in glory. Let’s face it. Almost 2,000 years is a long wait. We’re not feeling especially vigilant this Advent. For most of us, we are pretty comfortable with the way things are here and now. We have three square meals a day. We have enough, maybe more than enough. We live in safety in a beautiful part of the world. It’s not a problem for us that the second coming seems to be slow in arriving.

That attitude shifts, though, when we stir some chaos and pain into the recipe of our lives. Just ask the Christians in Gaza and the West Bank. They are praying, “Come, Lord Jesus.” Just ask the neighbor whose spouse has died a few weeks before Christmas—they would like to tear open the heavens so that God might come down. Just ask the friend who is reeling with that unexpected, bleak diagnosis, she wouldn’t mind seeing the Son of Man coming in glory. While we wait for the Second Coming, there are plenty of little apocalypses. There is an abundance of those frightening and unwanted world-changing, life-threatening, perspective-altering events. Those little apocalypses leave us longing for the Lord to be here now.

The Rev. Tracy Daub, who wrote our book study for Advent Holy Disruption, reminds us that the world-changing work of the End Times has already begun. We saw it in Jesus, who showed us what it looks like to live with compassion, forgiveness, inclusion, and love. Jesus called for an essential reordering of our world, an in-breaking of God’s Kingdom, that is yet to be fully realized. That’s where we find ourselves, between the two Advents, the first and second coming. Our work as members of Jesus’ familias is to serve the Kingdom that is “already but not yet.”

What is the work that the Master would have us do in this waiting time? It looks a lot like what Jesus and his faithful servants did. It’s feeding the hungry and welcoming the outsider. It’s forgiving those who have wronged us and praying for those who feel short on hope. It’s sharing the good news with the everyday words and actions of our lives. It’s working for a world where Israelis and Palestinians break bread together. It’s inviting to supper that mournful neighbor who feels lost in grief. It’s holding the hand and walking alongside the friend who feels lousy. We live with bold hope and compassionate love. And if we are very faithful servants of the Master, this world may even sense the coming of the Son of Man as we work with hope and love amid the little apocalypses of our world.

Frank J. Tipler, who teaches math and physics at Tulane University, published a book in 2007 called The Physics of Christianity. In the first chapter, Tipler maintains that the Second Coming of Christ will occur within 50 years—by 2057. I suspect that Tipler, like Irenaeus, Sir Isaac Newton, and William Miller, will be proven wrong by the passage of time. After all, Jesus told us, we “do not know when the time will come.”

We do know that while we wait there is work to be done. Let’s get busy, my friends. Amen.

Resources

Buggs, Courtney.  “Commentary on Mark 13:24-37” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 29, 2020.  Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Daub, Tracy S. Holy Disruption: Discovering Advent in the Gospel of Mark, (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2002).

Siker, Judy Yates. “Exegetical Perspective on Mark 13:24-27” in Feasting on the Word, Year B, vol. 1. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008.

Sheldon, Natasha. “Roman Domestic Slavery” accessed online at Ancient History and Archaeology.com.

Mark 13:24-37

24“But in those days, after that suffering,

the sun will be darkened,and the moon will not give its light,
25and the stars will be falling from heaven,and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

26Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory. 27Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.

28“From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. 29So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. 30Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. 31Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

32“But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. 33Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. 34It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. 35Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, 36or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. 37And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”

Portrait of Sir Isaac Newton by Godfrey Kneller, 1702. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.