Christ the Savior Is Born!

December 24, 2023 / reverendjoannwhite / 1 Comment

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

December 19, 2023December 11, 2023 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

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.”

The Hermit

December 12, 2023December 11, 2023 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

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

December 10, 2023 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

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

December 3, 2023 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

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 19^th 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.

She Who Reconciles

November 28, 2023November 27, 2023 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Poem for a Tuesday — “She Who Reconciles” by Rainer Maria Rilke

She who reconciles the ill-matched threads

of her life, and weaves them gratefully

into a single cloth —

it’s she who drives the loudmouths from the hall

and clears it for a different celebration

where the one guest is you.

In the softness of evening

it’s you she receives.

You are the partner of her loneliness,

the unspeaking center of her monologues.

With each disclosure you encompass more

and she stretches beyond what limits her,

to hold you.

— from Rilke’s Book of Hours, translated by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy. Riverhead Books: New York, 1996, I 17, p. 64.

Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926) was a Bohemian-Austrian poet and novelist. He was the only son of an unhappy marriage. His mother mourned the death of an earlier daughter. During Rilke’s early years, she sought to recover the lost girl through the boy. According to Rilke, he had to wear “fine clothes” and “was a plaything [for his mother], like a big doll.” He attended military school and trade school before studying literature, art history, and philosophy in Prague and Munich. He was a mystic, proto-modernist, and early proponent of psychoanalysis. He traveled extensively throughout Europe and Russia before settling in Switzerland. At the time of his death from leukemia, his work was largely unknown to the reading public, but his posthumous followers have been many. He is now considered the most lyrical and influential of the German early modernists.

The Least of These

November 26, 2023 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “The Least of These” Matthew 25:31-46

Bob stopped typing. There it was again, an insistent knocking, down at the front door. It was Saturday morning. Marge and Paul had driven south for a weekend of Christmas shopping with her sister in Albany. Bob was working on his sermon, but he had deleted more than he had written. He pushed back his desk chair and ventured downstairs.

There on the doorstep was the short, round form of Junior Miller. Bob remembered the Christmas Eve that Junior had been born, more than twenty years ago, now. Bob had been called to the hospital to visit the newest member of his flock. Junior’s almond-shaped eyes and rosebud mouth confirmed what his parents had learned: Down Syndrome. But the boy had been a delight. Sure, he struggled with school. Sure, he took some bullying. But his kind nature was unstoppable. This morning, Junior looked extra round. A down jacket stretched across his belly, snow boots reached almost to his knees, a bright wool handknit hat and matching scarf and mittens were keeping out the cold.

“Why Junior! What brings you to my door so bright and early?”

Junior pulled down the scarf to free his mouth and leaned in, “Pastor Bob, I had a dream.”

Bob’s eyebrows shot up, like they do when he is intrigued. “A dream. You don’t say. You want to come in and tell me about it?”

Junior shook his head emphatically, no! “Pastor Bob! It was God, he said he was going to see me today. I don’t have time to visit with you.”

Bob nodded appreciatively. “Hmm. Well, where do you think you’ll find God?”

Junior pushed back his knit cap and looked up and down the street. “God didn’t say. Any ideas?”

Bob looked left and right. It had snowed a lot overnight. The plows had been out to clear the lane, but the trees were bowed beneath the wintry weight. Bob squinted against the snowy glare, “Well, Junior. I’m not sure where you’ll find Jesus, but I’m certain he’s out there. Be sure to send him my way. I could use some help with my sermon.”

Junior nodded, turned around, and marched off in search of Jesus.

Junior had only gone a few blocks when he saw old Mrs. Trombley. Every week she came to the dairy where Junior worked and bought the same thing: a dozen eggs, a half-gallon of milk, and one of Mrs. Underhill’s freshly-baked bear claw pastries. This morning, Mrs. Trombly was shoveling snow. A wall of the white stuff had drifted against the back of her car. You could barely make out the bumper.

“Hi, Mrs. Trombly! It’s me, Junior.”

Mrs. Trombley leaned on her shovel to catch her breath. Her cheeks were bright red and she looked kind of sweaty. Junior hadn’t noticed before, but Mrs. Trombley seemed to be shrinking. Her back curved inside her old winter coat. She had to look up to see his face. “Why Junior, good morning! How do you like all this snow?”

Junior took her question seriously. “Pretty nice, I guess.”

Mrs. Trombley looked at the big drift behind her car. “Lots of work if you ask me. Burt always does this, but he had surgery last week. That means I’m on deck.”

Junior nodded. He really needed to get going if he was going to see Jesus, but he stopped. “Here, Mrs. Trombley. Give me that.” Junior took the snow shovel. It took a while to dig out the car and shovel the walk while Mrs. Trombley went back inside to tend Burt. Junior left the snow shovel next to the front door and hurried off to continue his search.

Outside the church, Junior saw Christine Lebowski. She had been the prettiest girl in his high school class. A cheerleader, too. She had married the captain of the football team, but Junior wasn’t invited to the wedding. In fact, Christine and her friends had sometimes made fun of Junior. They called him the ‘tard and poked fun at his round belly which, as a child, bore a striking resemblance to Winnie the Pooh’s.

Christine was pushing a stroller, the lightweight, folding kind that you use in the summer months. There was a chubby baby inside that was every bit as blonde and blue-eyed as Christine. The baby looked happy, but Christine did not. In fact, she looked like she had been crying. Her eyes were red and swollen. She had a soggy Kleenex clenched in one hand. Junior had never seen Christine cry.

Junior followed Christine into the church. There she turned right, into the food pantry. Junior really needed to look for Jesus, but the fact that Christine Lebowski was crying tugged at his tender heart. He watched out of the corner of his eye while Christine took the baby out of the stroller and strapped it across her chest into one of those Snugli carriers while the food pantry volunteers loaded up her stroller with bags of food. As Christine shoved the overloaded stroller over the threshold and back outside, Junior heard an alarming, “Crack!” The stroller collapsed, sending groceries everywhere. Christine was really crying now.

Junior stepped up. “Hey, Christine.”

The sad woman looked around, noticing for the first time that Junior was there. “Uh, Junior. Sorry, I’ve made a big mess.”

Junior bent down and gathered the groceries back into their shopping bags. The bags were heavy and Christine with her baby didn’t look like any match for the load.

“I can help.” Junior said. That made Christine cry even more. He walked them home. Junior was surprisingly strong from his work at the dairy, but even he had to stop a few times to rebalance the load.

Along the way, Christine told him that she was alone now. Her husband said he didn’t want to be tied down with a baby. She was working at the Ron Dack Market when her Mom could watch the baby, but some months that just wasn’t enough. Junior just listened. At the door to her apartment, Christine said, “Gee, Junior. You are my knight in shining armor today.” This made Junior blush.

It was already early afternoon, but if Junior hurried, he could make it for the free lunch at the Good News Café. He arrived just as Tubby Mitchell was locking up.

“Junior!” the older man said, “You are my last customer today.” Tubby loaded up a plate with mashed potatoes, ham, green beans, and a generous slab of sheet cake. Junior ate with gusto, telling Tubby between bites all about his dream.

“Have you seen Jesus, Tubby?” Junior wanted to know.

Tubby looked out the window with a far away look in his eyes and sighed. “You know, Junior, I see him most days.”

This amazed Junior. “Jeezum Crow, Tubby! Really?”

Tubby smiled sadly, “Yup. I think I served him lunch about twenty minutes ago. If you hurry, you might catch him.” He nodded up the street, toward the center of town.

Junior pushed most of his cake into his mouth then pulled on his down coat and woolen cap. Tubby wound Junior’s scarf around his short neck while Junior jammed his hands into his mittens. “Oh boy! Thanks, Tubby!” Junior shouted over his shoulder as he dashed off up the street.

But Junior didn’t see Jesus or God almighty or even an angel. Dejected, he sat on a bench at the busy intersection in the center of town. Junior watched every car and inspected every pedestrian, hoping for a glimpse of the Lord.

The only thing of interest was Hank Tebow, who was always interesting. In the summer months, Hank wielded a spray bottle of Windex and a squeegee to make some easy money by washing the windshields of tourists while they idled at the light. In winter months, Hank wore big insulated coveralls and mostly just watched what passed for traffic in the village. Some days were bad, and he would yell at the cars until the police moved him along. Other days, like today, Hank dispensed jokes, the kind a six-year-old might tell.

“Hey, Junior! Knock, knock!”

Junior generally like this kind of joke, “Who’s there?”

“Snow.”

“Snow who?”

“Snow use. I forgot my name again!”

Junior laughed, “Good one, Hank.”

Junior resumed his search for Jesus while Hank scrounged a few cigarette butts from the sidewalk and tried unsuccessfully to share his jokes with pedestrians hurrying past. Junior noticed that Hank didn’t have any gloves or mittens. His hands were stained with nicotine and his nails were grimy, like Junior’s after a morning of work with the animals at the dairy. Hank’s bald head was hatless and his wispy beard didn’t seem to offer much protection for his face. Already the shadows were getting long. Junior would go to his parents for dinner, but Hank would probably be out there for hours. Junior stood up. He unwound the scarf, pulled the hat from his head, and yanked off his mittens. He tugged his coat sleeves down to cover his bare hands.

“Hey, Hank!” He yelled, “Knock, knock!”

Delighted that someone would join him in a little fun, Hank hurried over, “Who’s there?”

“Tank.”

“Tank who?”

“You’re welcome!” Junior said as he pushed his warm knitwear into Hank’s hands. They did some more laughing and Junior left. It was starting to get dark as Junior walked to his parents’ house. He had seen plenty of people that day, but where was Jesus?

The next morning, Junior arrived early at church. He knocked on Pastor Bob’s study door, then let himself in. He took a dejected seat on the couch. Bob stopped what he was doing.

“So, how did the Jesus hunt go, Junior?”

“Not so good.” Looking disappointed, Junior told Bob all about his day.

Bob listened and then chose his words carefully, “You know, Junior, I suspect that you saw plenty of Jesus yesterday.”

“Huh?”

“And Junior, I suspect that all those people you helped, they saw Jesus, too.”

Junior’s brow creased in concentration. “I need to think about that,” he said, rising from his seat and venturing out into the hallway.

At the door, Junior turned back, “How about you, Pastor Bob? Did Jesus help you with your sermon?”

Bob laughed, “Well, he sent his Holy Spirit to help me out. I expect we’ll do just fine.”

While Bob finished up his prayers of the people, Junior Miller found a quiet place to think.

This story was inspired by Leo Tolstoy’s classic work of short fiction, “Where Love Is, There God Is Also.”

Matthew 25:31-46

³¹“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. ³²All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, ³³and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. ³⁴Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; ³⁵for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, ³⁶I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’ ³⁷Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? ³⁸And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? ³⁹And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ ⁴⁰And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’ ⁴¹Then he will say to those at his left hand, ‘You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; ⁴²for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, ⁴³I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ ⁴⁴Then they also will answer, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?’ ⁴⁵Then he will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ ⁴⁶And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”

Thanksgiving

November 23, 2023November 18, 2023 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

We walk on starry fields of white
   And do not see the daisies;
For blessings common in our sight
   We rarely offer praises.
We sigh for some supreme delight
   To crown our lives with splendor,
And quite ignore our daily store
   Of pleasures sweet and tender.

Our cares are bold and push their way
   Upon our thought and feeling.
They hand about us all the day,
   Our time from pleasure stealing.
So unobtrusive many a joy
   We pass by and forget it,
But worry strives to own our lives,
   And conquers if we let it.

There’s not a day in all the year
   But holds some hidden pleasure,
And looking back, joys oft appear
   To brim the past’s wide measure.
But blessings are like friends, I hold,
   Who love and labor near us.
We ought to raise our notes of praise
   While living hearts can hear us.

Full many a blessing wears the guise
   Of worry or of trouble;
Far-seeing is the soul, and wise,
   Who knows the mask is double.
But he who has the faith and strength
   To thank his God for sorrow
Has found a joy without alloy
   To gladden every morrow.

We ought to make the moments notes
   Of happy, glad Thanksgiving;
The hours and days a silent phrase
   Of music we are living.
And so the theme should swell and grow
   As weeks and months pass o’er us,
And rise sublime at this good time,
   A grand Thanksgiving chorus.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919) began writing poetry at age eight. Her first published work appeared when she was fourteen years old in the New York Mercury. She devoted herself to a life of writing and hosted a literary circle at her home on the Connecticut Sound, Bungalow Court. Her work was at times scandalous for her day. Her collection of love poems was rejected by a Chicago publisher on grounds that it was immoral. It was later published in 1883 with the racy title Poems of Passion. When her poems sold 60,000 copies in two years, her reputation was established as a bestselling writer, even if critics disparaged her work. A natural advocate and enthusiast, Ella was an early spokesperson for animal rights and practiced vegetarianism. In 1918, she traveled to France in support of the war effort to read and lecture for soldiers in the Allied camps.

This Morning

November 21, 2023November 18, 2023 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Poem for a Tuesday — “This Morning” Raymond Carver

This morning was something. A little snow
lay on the ground. The sun floated in a clear
blue sky. The sea was blue, and blue-green,
as far as the eye could see.
Scarcely a ripple. Calm. I dressed and went
for a walk — determined not to return
until I took in what Nature had to offer.
I passed close to some old, bent-over trees.
Crossed a field strewn with rocks
where snow had drifted. Kept going
until I reached the bluff.
Where I gazed at the sea, and the sky, and
the gulls wheeling over the white beach
far below. All lovely. All bathed in a pure
cold light. But, as usual, my thoughts
began to wander. I had to will
myself to see what I was seeing
and nothing else. I had to tell myself this is what
mattered, not the other. (And I did see it,
for a minute or two!) For a minute or two
it crowded out the usual musings on
what was right, and what was wrong — duty,
tender memories, thoughts of death, how I should treat
with my former wife. All the things
I hoped would go away this morning.
The stuff I live with every day. What
I’ve trampled on in order to stay alive.
But for a minute or two I did forget
myself and everything else. I know I did.
For when I turned back i didn’t know
where I was. Until some birds rose up
from the gnarled trees. And flew
in the direction I needed to be going.

in Ploughshares, vol. 11, no. 4, 1985.

Raymond Carver was best known for his sublime short stories. He had working class roots, growing up in rural Washington where his hard-drinking father worked in a sawmill and his mother waited tables. At age nineteen, while working in a California sawmill, he met and married sixteen-year-old Maryann Burk. His interest in writing was stoked by undergraduate work at Chico State University, where he was mentored by John Gardner and Richard Cortez Day. Carver supported his family as a delivery man, janitor, and library assistant, often rushing to complete his tasks so that he could spend time writing. Carver struggled with alcohol addiction, quipping once that he gave up writing and took to full-time drinking. He mastered his addiction with the help of Alcoholics Anonymous. His first short story collection, Will You Please Be Quiet, Please?, was published in 1976. It was shortlisted for the National Book Award. He died of lung cancer at the age of fifty.

Blessed and Entrusted

November 19, 2023 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Blessed and Entrusted” Matthew 25:14-30

You’ll find Rupert tending the huge outdoor grill for his church’s annual chicken barbeque. His preparations start weeks in advance. He gathers ingredients for his secret sauce. He procures the mesquite chips that get soaked and sprinkled on the coals to impart that special smoky flavor. He makes the big run to Sam’s Club for all that chicken. Folks are so glad that Rupert shares his talent that, on the day of the barbeque, they line up around the block. The chicken always sells out. It’s his church’s biggest mission fund raiser of the year.

Sharon is the Field Marshall of her church’s annual Christmas Bazaar. Her talents for organization and communication are impressive. She contacts all the crafters months in advance to ensure there will be a beautiful selection of handmade goods. She sees to it that the men’s group cuts greens and makes beautiful evergreen wreaths to sell. She gets the bakers baking a bounty of Christmas cookies, brewing coffee, and making cocoa for the snack table. On the day of the Bazaar, Sharon has volunteers lined up from early to late. Every year, people say it can’t get any better, but somehow with Sharon’s leadership, it does.

Sam is his church’s most faithful servant. Now that he is retired, he rises early every Tuesday, eats his breakfast, and heads down to the church office to put his handyman talents to work. There, the secretary hands him a list of things that need his attention: lightbulb in the fellowship hall needs changing, toilet in the men’s bathroom needs plunging, grass could use mowing. Sam takes his list and gets busy. You can hear him whistling around the church as he tends to his “honey-dos.” At lunchtime, he walks home with a pleased smile, eats a big bowl of soup, and takes a nap.

Every church has them—good and faithful servants who get busy, sharing their talents to serve the Lord and bless the rest of us.

Our gospel lesson today has long been called the Parable of the Talents. In Jesus’s story, three servants were “entrusted” with talents. In the first century, a talent was a great weight of silver, between seventy-five and ninety pounds. A single talent was equivalent to twenty year’s wages for a day laborer. The first slave received 100 years’ wages in one lump sum, the second slave 40 years’ wages. Even the last and least able slave received great wealth, 20 years’ pay dropped in his lap. This tremendous windfall was entrusted without instructions or supervision.

The Greek word translated here as entrusted, paradidomai, has a couple of meanings. Paradidomai means to hand something over, to make a gift of something valuable. But paradidomai is also used to describe how a rabbi hands down a teaching tradition, a sort of passing the torch of spiritual authority to disciples. Back when this story was first told, Jesus was entrusting his ministry to his disciples.

In the long history of interpretation of this parable, the word talent has taken on new meaning. John Chrysostum, the fourth century Bishop of Constantinople was the first to suggest that the talents of the parable are gifts and abilities. Each of us is blessed with unique and precious capabilities that bring us joy and bless others, like the real-life examples that I gave at the start of my message—Rupert the grill master, Sharon the majordomo, and Sam the handyman. Chrysostum’s interpretation of this parable has been so influential over the centuries that the common understanding of “talent’ no longer means a great weight of silver. It means our God-given and self-developed potential.

In Jesus’s story, two servants found purpose in their gift. They traded and took risks to increase what they had been given. Perhaps one bought a small flock and shrewdly shepherded, bred, and traded his sheep and goats, until he was rich with animals, wool, and meat. Perhaps the other purchased a small vineyard. He grew grapes, dried raisins, and made the finest wine that was in the greatest of demand. The slaves were blessed by the undertaking, filled with satisfaction and delight in their accomplishment. They were eager to share their incredible success when the Master returned.

I think we can all share stories of the blessing we experience when our God-given gifts are developed to their fullest potential and used in ways that bring goodness to the lives of others. I know that Rupert the grill master felt that the annual chicken barbeque was the highlight of his summer. Sharon the Field Marshall of the Christmas Bazaar rejoiced mightily every time the sale set a new record in raising funds for mission. Sam the Handyman sensed that he had found real satisfaction in retirement by keeping things running smoothly at church so that folks could show up on Sunday morning and be blessed.

For the third servant of the parable, it was a different story. He responded to the Master’s gift with fear, as if it were a big unwanted burden – more curse than blessing. We can imagine Jesus telling the long version of the parable. The slave waited for the cover of darkness and then lugged that great weight of silver to an unlikely place, quietly dug a pit, and buried it deep. After that, he lived every day of the long waiting time in worry and anxiety, always looking over his shoulder. Would someone steal the treasure? Was today the day when the Master would return? When the Master finally appeared, the third slave was filled with resentment. First, he insulted his Master, then he handed off the talent like it was a hot potato. Good riddance! There was no blessing for the third slave in the talent, no blessing in the waiting, and no blessing in the Master. His rejection of opportunity, his rejection of blessing, left him banished to the outer darkness.

It’s important to remember that Jesus was using hyperbole – a rhetoric of exaggeration —to make a point about the necessity for disciples to continue the ministry that he was entrusting to them. The dramatic description of the third slave wailing and languishing in the outer darkness reminded Jesus’s friends that although there would be fear and danger in the wake of his crucifixion, there could be blessing. If only they simply kept working, kept sharing, kept the faith, they would find joy for themselves and others.

If we set aside the scary hyperbole for a moment, we can see that this story is about trust, blessing, potential, and joy. Church folk tend to be a talented lot. Some have the prodigious gift of music. Others have the knack for building and fixing things. Some are wonderful cooks. Some are wonderfully caring or gifted in the offering of prayer. Some are natural leaders, while others are great followers and worker bees. We may not have the grilling gifts of Rupert or the organizational prowess of Sharon or the fix-it ingenuity of Sam, but we are each uniquely entrusted with abilities and qualities that make us the people we are. So much potential! Those talents are God-given and made for sharing. God doesn’t give us a checklist of missions to be accomplished, but the Lord trusts that we will be busy in his purpose.

Here’s the delightful truth of the parable. When we sing in the choir or share special music, it’s a blessing! When we put on our apron and fire up the oven for the bake sale, it’s a blessing. When we share our teaching gifts with the kids, it’s a blessing! When we share our caring gifts as a deacon, our devotional gifts on the prayer chain, or our knack for compassion at the Food Pantry, what is it? A blessing! When talented people get busy, the blessings abound. It’s a blessing for us and it’s a blessing to others. Praise the Lord for those talented Presbyterians!

The exclamation point of this parable is the Master’s joy. Jesus’s story suggests that when faithful disciples use their talents to get busy in God’s purpose, God finds delight. We put a smile on the face of the Great Almighty. Heaven breaks forth with the sound of rejoicing. Even better, when we are blessed by using our gifts—and others are blessed by us—then we are welcomed with praise into the joy of the Master. “Well done, good and faithful servants!” You might even say, that when talents are plied and blessing abounds, our world begins to look and feel like God’s Kingdom where the joy will never end. Don’t we want to be a part of that joy?

Every church has them—good and faithful servants who get busy, sharing their talents to serve the Lord and bless the rest of us. The Ruperts. The Sharons. The Sams. People like us! May we use our talents wisely. And may the Master’s joy abound!

Resources:

Carla Works. “Commentary on Matthew 25:14-30” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 13, 2011. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

David Schnasa Jacobsen. “Commentary on Matthew 25:14-30” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 19, 2017. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Dirk G. Lange. “Commentary on Matthew 25:14-30” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 16, 2008. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Greg Carey. “Commentary on Matthew 25:14-30” in Preaching This Week, Nov. 16, 2014. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Matthew 25:14-30

¹⁴“For it is as if a man, going on a journey, summoned his slaves and entrusted his property to them; ¹⁵to one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away. ¹⁶The one who had received the five talents went off at once and traded with them, and made five more talents. ¹⁷In the same way, the one who had the two talents made two more talents. ¹⁸But the one who had received the one talent went off and dug a hole in the ground and hid his master’s money. ¹⁹After a long time the master of those slaves came and settled accounts with them. ²⁰Then the one who had received the five talents came forward, bringing five more talents, saying, ‘Master, you handed over to me five talents; see, I have made five more talents.’ ²¹His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.’ ²²And the one with the two talents also came forward, saying, ‘Master, you handed over to me two talents; see, I have made two more talents.’ ²³His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.’ ²⁴Then the one who had received the one talent also came forward, saying, ‘Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; ²⁵so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here you have what is yours.’ ²⁶But his master replied, ‘You wicked and lazy slave! You knew, did you, that I reap where I did not sow, and gather where I did not scatter? ²⁷Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and on my return, I would have received what was my own with interest. ²⁸So take the talent from him and give it to the one with the ten talents. ²⁹For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. ³⁰As for this worthless slave, throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’

Joann White

writer, pastor, spiritual director, and enthusiast of wild places

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