“There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.” (John 1:6-9)

 

No one had more odd jobs getting through college than I did. Yard work, painting, chauffeuring, and of course, retail sales. One such job was selling pots and pans. I went to the demonstrations and learned the good features of the product. Then I learned how to get in some family’s home and set the tone for a sale. I learned all the ways to get the people to sign on the dotted line. It was all, of course, for their good. And I got a commission for every sale (no salary). One night I was in a home demonstrating the pots and pans. A wife and husband were giving me the opportunity to make a sale. Even as a fledgling college student I could tell that they were just getting by. Yet I knew that with my speaking skills coupled with the manipulative techniques I had been taught, I could make a sale and earn some tuition money. At some point that evening I decided to end the presentation gracefully and not lead them into more monthly debt than they already had. That job ended abruptly. Soon after, I found another part-time college job; bagging groceries. I got a straight salary and didn’t need to learn manipulative ways. To this day, I like to bag my own groceries. One does not forget such skills.

If you saw your neighbor’s home on fire and thought your neighbor was asleep, would you see that as a private matter, or would you find a way to get your neighbor’s attention? If you had good news that could help change another person’s life in the most positive ways in this life and in eternity, wouldn’t you want to share it?

That’s something of the struggle many of us feel. Methods of evangelism sometimes seem contrived and manipulative. We know this good news that can change everything and the other person may not even know it, or may know it only in a distorted form. Yet we want to honor the other person’s privacy and choice. What do we do? John the Baptist told people clearly: Jesus is the one. John was a witness to the light. With deeds and words he pointed people to Jesus. He never put the spotlight on himself; he always put the spotlight on Jesus. He has long been a role-model for me as a pastor and preacher.
This faith is designed to be shared. That means being a witness by how we live and it means being ready to share what we believe with others. A preacher named Steve Brown said, “If you’re going to act like a jerk, please don’t tell people about Jesus.” I would add, if you’re going to drive like a jerk, don’t advertise that you’re a Christian on your bumper. If you’re going to be impatient waiting in line or snapping at a harried salesperson, don’t wear a cross around your neck or a WWJD bracelet. The living we do will always speak louder than the words we speak.

Yet there is a place to speak. The best place for that speaking is out of our living. The unspoken but lived sermon is always powerful. I remind us of the words attributed to St. Francis: “Preach the gospel at all times; use words when necessary.” Words are often necessary. God reveals himself to us through the vehicle of words. God gives us a book, a revelation of his nature and a record of his mighty deeds. Words. God sends his son to live among us and die for us, and calls him the Word. We need the words. Talk may be cheap; good words are not. They are precious. Some years ago I saw the version of the Emancipation Proclamation that Abraham Lincoln wrote in his own hand on temporary display in Albany. It was so many words, but those words changed lives forever. Those words freed men, women, and children from cruel bondage. Words matter. Speaking the needed word often takes courage. Being a contagious Christian is about always living the faith and sometimes verbalizing that faith.
In my pastorate, I once received a card from a woman who, with her husband, had just moved away. She wrote, “I fell away from God and the church when I was in college. Some of my life circumstances made me angry with God. I thought God was punishing me. When my neighbors invited my husband and me to attend their church, I was a little reluctant, but God had softened my heart some and I went. I was immediately struck by the presence of the Lord. Everyone was kind and welcoming. I continued to come over the next two years and developed a relationship with God. A lot of healing took place. I am not angry at God anymore and I know that he loves me.” How many people are like she was before she accepted her neighbor’s invitation? How many are hoping to find that God loves them and welcomes them? How many are waiting for a gracious invitation to a Christmas Eve service this year?
Let’s work for our churches to be communities that welcome others and, out of our living, earn the right to share the Good News. What a difference that word can make in another person’s life. John the Baptist knew his role and played it to the full: to point everyone to Jesus, the Lamb of God, the heaven-sent Savior, Bethlehem’s babe, the Lord of heaven and earth. “He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.”

 

 

I love to read about presidents, especially Lincoln. I have more books about Lincoln than I will ever read (three shelves), but I cherish having them and, yes, I do read some. I am targeting another Lincoln book for February, his birthday month. I have another shelf of books about other presidents.

 

The two I am reading now are both indirect. That is, neither one is a biography. Both are by people close to that president, with unusual access. One is “Sisters First,” by presidential twins Barbara Bush and Jenna Bush Hagar, daughters of George W. and Laura Bush. The other is “Thanks, Obama,” by David Litt, one of Barack Obama’s speechwriters. I was drawn to the second because of my professional and personal love of crunching words and trying to say things correctly and with desired effect. Before I preach a sermon I write it, as if I were a speech writer. I just happen to be the one that will be giving the speech (sermon) I have written. (Some of you may be thinking, he could use a better speechwriter! Some of you may be thinking that his writing could use a better speaker! I accept both critiques.)

 

I was drawn to the Bush sisters’ book by seeing how much Rachel was enjoying it and often reading parts of it to me. Now I am reading the books side-by-side. (I usually like to be reading two-three books in the same time frame. Don’t ask me why my brain works that way—I don’t know.)

 

I am reading about two presidents—indirectly—that served recently; one is my age; the other a bit younger. One is white and one black; one a Republican and one a Democrat. I followed them closely. I didn’t vote for Bush either time; I voted for Obama eagerly both times. Initially I thought Bush wasn’t quite up to the job. In the wake of 9/11, I thought he rose to the occasion and comported himself in commendatory ways. Concerning going to war with Afghanistan and Iraq, I think he listened to the wrong advisors, old cold-warriors Cheney and Rumsfeld, instead of Rice and Powell, whom I think would have counseled a more measured and appropriate response to the terrorism of 9/11. But I never questioned Bush’s intentions. Since his presidency, my admiration for him has grown considerably. I believe Bush to be a man of deep character, genuine faith, and informed patriotism.

 

Obama struck me as not only up to the job, but exceedingly intelligent and capable. Nothing has changed my view of him. While I think that Bush leaned too heavily on the counsel of his two cold-warrior advisors, I think Obama leaned too heavily on his own counsel at times. I expect that comes with his level of intelligence and natural introversion. I believe Obama to be a man of deep character, genuine faith, and informed patriotism.

 

Both men modeled character in the office and beyond it. Both have, by all appearances (we painfully know today that appearances can be misleading), wonderful marriages and well-adjusted children, in spite of the spotlight they, both wives and their children, were in for eight years by no choice of their own. Neither president ever embarrassed me (though some of Bush’s mangled word formulations brought me much laughter). I would love to spend time with either of them. In fact, I would love to spend time with them together.  I believe both to be persons of deep character, genuine faith, and informed patriotism.

 

I see in both Bush and Obama humanity and humility. Those are two qualities I look for in leaders in all fields, especially presidents of our country.

 

 

[Note. Yesterday, the second Sunday of Advent, I preached at John Calvin Presbyterian Church in Henrietta NY. They assigned me Luke 1:39-56.]

 

The media love it when two celebrities meet. Get out the cameras. Line up the reporters. Call the tabloids. Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin meet to talk about who knows what. Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks meet for the premier of a new movie. Tom Brady and Peyton Manning meet at midfield at the end of a playoff game. And now…Mary and Elizabeth meet by divine appointment, but without fanfare and fuss. The miraculously expectant women meet. Though the popular press and media don’t care, the spotlight of heaven is shining on them.

 

Here we have a conversation between two expectant women, neither of whom was expecting to be expecting just now. Elizabeth already has her AARP membership card; Mary isn’t old enough to drive, perhaps 14. One is married to an old priest; one is engaged to a young carpenter. Have you ever sat in the waiting room of an obstetrician’s office? There is a kind of conversation that happens there when expectant mothers are together. They have a vocabulary of their own. First there’s quiet as they find their seats. Elizabeth picks up an old copy of “Modern Maturity,” and Mary a copy of “Modern Maternity.” “You look great—how many weeks are you?” “Will my back ever stop hurting?” “I know where every public restroom in Jerusalem is.” “What do you think about home-schooling?” “Had your ultrasound yet? I don’t know how they can tell anything from those. I think they’re meant to be put on your refrigerator door.” “Do stretch marks ever go away?” “Do you have a copy of ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting?’” “You’re first baby and you look so young.” “Your first baby and you look so . . . mature.” “Mary, you may call me old, for I am.”

Now it’s just Mary and Elizabeth, sitting in Elizabeth’s house sipping tea. Mary arrives unannounced and speaks the time-honored greeting: “Elizabeth, the Lord be with you.” “Mary, my baby jumped when he heard your voice. Not just a kick—he jumped. It wasn’t like his normal activity—and he’s an active one. He leaped within me. Mary, you radiate God’s beauty, and the little baby you’re carrying, you just don’t know how special he is and will be.” Mary is silent, a little embarrassed at the power of her greeting. “Mary, you’re such a brave young woman. You’ve come all this way by yourself to visit me. Mary, I’m an old woman. God has promised me this baby and God will bring him into the world to point people to your baby. But if I, at my age, if . . . if I don’t make it through, would you and your Joseph help my Zechariah? He is an old man who has never cared for a baby.”

And Mary, just one more question. “And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me?” We’ve asked this question at times: “Why has this happened to me?” We ask it mainly at two times. When something bad happens to us, we often ask, “Why has this happened to me?” The other time we might ask “Why has this happened to me?” is when something good happens to us. The same question, by vocal inflection, can suggest that one’s world has just collapsed or one’s world has just come together. It is good to ask questions. Zechariah asked the angel, “How will I know?” Mary asked the angel, “How can this be. . .?”

And now it’s Elizabeth’s turn. “Mary, you have believed that the Lord would do what he spoke. You are so blessed…. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me?” I’ll not tell us never to ask God, “Why me?” when something difficult comes to us. We may need to ask that hard question. Better to ask God than to be silent and become bitter. But let’s not forget to ask, “Why me?” when the good comes our way. God showers blessings upon us beyond numbering, beyond anything we could ever earn or merit.

How does one respond to such elegant and gracious words from one’s elder? Mary praises God. If the vocabulary of pregnancy is new to Mary, the vocabulary of praise is not. She chooses the response of praise in three movements, which I see as three concentric circles. Mary models for us what it is to give God alone all the glory. The Jewish theologian Abraham Heschel said it this way: “We begin with a sense of wonder and arrive at radical amazement. The first response is reverence and awe, openness to the mystery that surrounds, and we are led to be overwhelmed by the glory.”

In the center circle of Mary’s response is God. Mary knows the nature of God. She has studied her Scriptures and let them become part of her being. She praises God.

“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation.”

This burst of praise was not all that original. She borrows freely from the song of praise that came from the lips of Hannah, who also had an unexpected pregnancy that produces a child of promise. To magnify the Lord is to enlarge his image in our lives, making him more visible to all. To glorify God is to enhance his name and bring credit to his reputation. To praise God is to focus attention on his perfect and glorious being. Mary praises God by putting him in the very center of her affections. How do we do this? By learning more and more of the nature of God and pondering God’s beauty and truth.
In the second circle Mary places herself and her situation under God.

“For he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name.”
Praising God puts our lives in right perspective. Praising God does not make all the hurts and pains go away. Praising God isn’t a good luck charm or a magic wand. Living in the praise of God frees us from worry and anxiety and gives us the perspective and power to persevere in the midst of anything. In praising God Mary places herself and her situation in God’s hands. How do we do this? In the same way Mary did.

In the third circle Mary sings of God’s work in the world.

“He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”
She speaks as if God’s work in the world is done, when it’s just begun. Faith has a way of doing that. Faith sees beyond the moment, beyond the present reality, into God’s preferred future. True love of God must express itself in love of neighbor. True worship of God leads to participation in lifting the lowly and feeding the hungry. All personal faith demands social concern and ministry. The inner life of devotion and the outer life of service are one integrated life. Mary sees it and Mary sings it.

God doesn’t weave peace in our world in a straight line. Something amazing is happening here. Two unsuspecting, but now expecting, women are thrust into the spotlight on the stage of global redemption. God is entrusting so much to them, an old woman and a young woman. They accept their assignments with humility. They do not complain or grumble, but ask their honest questions with openness. They are ordinary people—the kind God loves to call for extraordinary tasks. Now they meet and the older one honors the younger one, just as the older child will honor the younger child. They’re not caught up in protecting themselves and their rights. They are caught up in honoring God’s working in their lives and in their world. The spotlight of heaven is shining on them.

 

This week’s Time magazine announces their Person of the Year: Silence Breakers. These are the brave women that have broken silence to break the spell of shame that men of power have placed on them by their reprehensible actions. Mary and Elizabeth are silence breakers too, though a very different kind. In a world in which women had virtually no voice, they are chosen by God for lofty purposes and they speak God’s praises with honesty, grace, and humility. The spotlight of heaven is shining on them.

Mary sings that all generations will call her blessed. Protestants—I am one—have sometimes overreacted to the Roman Catholic emphasis on Mary by de-emphasizing Mary. That is to our poverty. We are to call her blessed. She models godliness. She models bravery and courage. She models faith in action. She honors God with every fiber of her being. How could God have picked such a young, poor, not-yet-married teenaged girl for such a weighty task? How could Mary have possibly known all that God was entrusting to her?

First Sunday of Advent

[Note: This sermon is based on Isaiah 64:1 and Mark 13:24-37, lectionary texts for yesterday. I included those passages at the end, for ready reference.]

 

Not, “For unto a child is born, unto us a son is given…”; not “But you, Bethlehem, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me…” not, “The virgin will conceive and bear a son….” Rather, our very first words from scripture this Advent are these: “Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down, that the mountains would tremble before you!”

 

How is that for season’s greetings? “Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down, that the mountains would tremble before you!” Can you picture that on the cover of your Christmas cards? That is the heart’s cry of a people who need God to act. But it wasn’t a call to escape. The Israelites had just returned home from their captivity in Babylon. They were thrilled to be home. Except, everything was in shambles. Nothing had been left in tact. Their captors destroyed the city walls, tore down the Temple, and left Jerusalem a mess. It was a wasteland, but they were home at last.

It would be something like the American commonwealth of Puerto Rico today. Over two months after Hurricane Maria hit it with devastating force, half the island’s residents are still without electricity. Hundreds have died. Many are fleeing to the mainland, including a family to Rochester in the past week.

Advent opens our hearts to what God has done, what God is doing, and what God will yet do. This season of preparation for Christmas is counter cultural. After Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, and Cyber Monday (add wacked out Wednesday for good measure), Advent says resist. We don’t need that new luxury car with a red bow on it. The season calls for slowing down and reflecting on great and wondrous things. It is for preparing for the celebration of Jesus’ birth. And it begins with a teaching from Jesus about living in watchfulness and alertness.

I was raised in a church with an escape culture. In my childhood home church we believed that the Second Coming of Jesus was about escaping this wretched world. We were taught that there was a mysterious rapture coming, by which we would get out of here before all hell broke loose. After a while, this emphasis bothered me more and more.

Then I discovered a more biblical view: not escape but engagement. We are called to be in this world bearing good news. After all, “God so loved the world that he sent his only Son….” Rather than an escape strategy, God calls us to an engagement strategy, living as Jesus did, bearing good news amidst the messiness of the world.

Jesus said it clearly: “Be on guard! Be alert! You do not know when that time will come. It’s like a man going away: He leaves his house and puts his servants in charge, each with their assigned task, and tells the one at the door to keep watch.”

We want to be found doing our assignments, not looking to escape the house. When the master returns, can anything be better than that he finds us doing what he assigned us to do? As I read the news of the world, there is much to do in service to Jesus. Need is everywhere. We have been entrusted with good news to share.

“But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”

For twenty centuries faithful Christians have believed that they were living in the last days. And here we are in the 21^st century reading these words of Jesus. For four decades I lived in eastern New York, not too far from where there once was great fervor about the return of Jesus. A student of the Bible named William Miller calculated that Jesus would return between March 21, 1843 and March 21, 1844. When March 21, 1844, came and went and Jesus didn’t, they recalculated: April 18, 1844. Ditto. Recalculating: July, 1844. Ditto. Recalculating: August 10, 1844. Ditto. Recalculating: October 22, 1844. They banked on that date. Some quit their jobs. They went to a mountaintop in the early morning and waited for Jesus. At the end of that day, they returned to their homes in sadness. October 22, 1844, was called the Great Disappointment.

During that very time, three notable people, people of faith, were living and working near where I now live in the greater Rochester area. One was Susan B. Anthony. She was working tirelessly for the full American citizenship of women. One was Frederick Douglass. He was working for the full American citizenship of African-Americans. The third was Benjamin T. Roberts. He was working tirelessly for the full citizenship of woman and blacks in the Church. Roberts Wesleyan College is named for him. He was as radical in working for the rights of women and blacks as Anthony and Douglass.

Let’s say Jesus had returned during that time. Would we rather be among those who climbed to a mountaintop to wait or those that were working for the rights of people that had long been denied their rights? I know which group I would want to be among: that group engaged with their world and working diligently on the assignments they had been given.

The coming of Jesus has at least three aspects to it. Jesus has come, born of Mary in Bethlehem. Jesus will return in glory someday known only to the Father. In between the first and second advents of Jesus, he keeps coming in myriad ways every day. It’s a time to be live in readiness, in watchfulness, and doing the work assigned to us. “Be on guard! Be alert!”

An anonymous black American, living during that terrible time of our nation’s horrendous institution of human slavery, wrote this poem. It gives us perspective for faithful living today, in anticipation of that great coming of Jesus yet to occur.

There’s a king and a captain high, And he’s coming by and by,
And he’ll find me hoeing cotton when he comes.
You can hear his legions charging in the regions of the sky,
And he’ll find me hoeing cotton when he comes.
There’s a man they thrust aside, Who was tortured till he died,

and he’ll find me hoeing cotton when he comes.
He was hated and rejected, He was scorned and crucified,
And he’ll find me hoeing cotton when he comes.
When he comes! When he comes!
He’ll be crowned by saints and angels when he comes.
They’ll be shouting our Hosanna! To the man that men denied
And I’ll kneel among my cotton when he comes.

 

Jesus says, “Therefore keep watch because you do not know when the owner of the house will come back—whether in the evening, or at midnight, or when the rooster crows, or at dawn. If he comes suddenly, do not let him find you sleeping. What I say to you, I say to everyone: ‘Watch!’”

 

 

 

 

 

Isaiah 64:1 New International Version (NIV)

 

Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down,
that the mountains would tremble before you!

Mark 13:24-37 (NIV)

²⁴ “But in those days, following that distress

“‘the sun will be darkened,
and the moon will not give its light;
²⁵ the stars will fall from the sky,
and the heavenly bodies will be shaken.’

²⁶ “At that time people will see the Son of Man coming in clouds with great power and glory. ²⁷ And he will send his angels and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heavens.

²⁸ “Now learn this lesson from the fig tree: As soon as its twigs get tender and its leaves come out, you know that summer is near. ²⁹ Even so, when you see these things happening, you know that it is near, right at the door. ³⁰ Truly I tell you, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened. ³¹ Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.

³² “But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. ³³ Be on guard! Be alert! You do not know when that time will come.³⁴ It’s like a man going away: He leaves his house and puts his servants in charge, each with their assigned task, and tells the one at the door to keep watch.

³⁵ “Therefore keep watch because you do not know when the owner of the house will come back—whether in the evening, or at midnight, or when the rooster crows, or at dawn. ³⁶ If he comes suddenly, do not let him find you sleeping. ³⁷ What I say to you, I say to everyone: ‘Watch!’”

 

 

I am sad this morning. In the quiet of my early mornings, with no noise or activity in the house, I would read A Writer’s Almanac on my iPad. Years ago I started listening to it on NPR stations while driving or in my study at 8:25am on WAMC in the capital region of New York. When I got an iPad, I got the app and started reading it. As I read it, I could often hear the calming baritone voice of Garrison Keillor in my mind. Even if I didn’t like the day’s poem, the hint in my ear of Garrison reading it dramatically kept me reading it. I encouraged my students of preaching at Northeaster Seminary to read it as a discipline in reading a poem a day and notes about life and culture.

 

As I read brief notes about the day in literary history, I would often go down side roads. Almost two weeks ago I was reminded that President Lincoln gave his immortal address at a makeshift graveyard in Gettysburg on November 19, 1863. Before November 19, 2017, was over I read the full text and context of that remarkable speech again. Just yesterday was the birthday of C. S. Lewis and that had me thinking about his influence on my faith and life.

 

This morning there was no Writer’s Almanac to greet me. Of course, I heard yesterday that Keillor has been accused of an inappropriate gesture toward a female colleague and, hence, Minnesota Public Radio has dropped A Writer’s Almanac and anything to do with Keillor from its broadcasting. I am saddened this morning, not just for my lost morning friend, but more for Keillor and his family—and the woman who experienced an inappropriate touch from his hand. I read his account of the incident, which sounds rather tame in light of what we have been hearing about Harvey Weinstein, Kevin Spacey, Charlie Rose, Congressman Conyers, Judge Roy Moore, Donald Trump, Bill Clinton, Matt Lauer, etc. The list goes on and on.

 

Yesterday was particularly marked by the news releases, and firings, of Matt Lauer and Garrison Keillor. Lauer is bigger news, as his role in the popular media was enormous. I am saddened for him and his family—and the women he treated inappropriately. I never thought Lauer was a very good interviewer or a significant news reporter. But Keillor was, for me, a significant American humorist. I often listened to A Prairie Home Companion (PHC), though not as faithfully as I followed A Writer’s Almanac. I went to watch live performances of PHC several times at Tanglewood in western Massachusetts. After the radio broadcast ended, he would return to the stage and lead a sing-along, rich in Americana and Gospel (always including Amazing Grace). It was almost like a tent revival meeting in the best sense. He would remain after the sing-along to greet everyone who lined up and sign every book and program put in front of him—never hurried. I was always moved by his ability to portray the quirkiness of American life.

 

On the same day the president of my country embarrassed me again, as he does just about every day he tweets or attempts to speak coherently. His response to the firing of Lauer was typically graceless and tasteless. His retweeting of fake videos meant to provoke fear and hatred of Muslims was reprehensible. David Duke, former grandmaster of the KKK (or some such title), spoke on behalf of all white nationalist and white supremacist Americans in thanking Trump yesterday. If Secretary of State Rex Tillerson didn’t call the president a moron (I think he did), he should have. Trump’s inappropriate remarks yesterday follow by just two days his embarrassing the nation and offending native Americans (and others citizens like me) by making a graceless, unnecessary, and offensive statement in front of several native Americans being honored in the White House for their service in World War II. And the abuser-in-chief continues to serve as president of the United States. I am embarrassed, offended, and troubled.

 

Yesterday afternoon my wife and I want to see the new movie Wonder. It deals with middle-school bullying. And the strength of a family of character and humanity. I commend it to you—and bring tissues. It was an experience of grace. This story needs to be told and heard, but remember that bullying is not limited to middle schools.

 

In the midst of all that is wrong in our land, there is much wonder and beauty and grace. Acts of kindness and care abound. I will look for those qualities today, even as I am saddened by not being able to read A Writer’s Almanac. And, more, much more, I am saddened that countless women have experienced sexual harassment from men in power and then are vilified and bullied by men when they finally muster the courage to speak publicly of their humiliation.

[Note: I had the privilege of guest preaching yesterday at Covington United Presbyterian Church in Pavilion NY. On the church calendar yesterday was Christ the King Sunday. I used the assigned Gospel lesson for the day.]

In Matthew 25 Jesus tells his final parable in that Gospel.

³¹ “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. ³² All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. ³³ He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.

³⁴ “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. ³⁵ For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, ³⁶ I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

³⁷ “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? ³⁸ When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? ³⁹ When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

⁴⁰ “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

⁴¹ “Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. ⁴² For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, ⁴³ I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’

⁴⁴ “They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’

⁴⁵ “He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’

⁴⁶ “Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”

 

I have nothing against goats. In popular usage, goats tend to get a bad rap and sheep a good one. When an athlete makes a mistake or commits an error that hurts the team’s chance of winning, he or she may be called a goat. No one that I know ever called Jesus the goat of God, but John the Baptist eagerly called him the Lamb of God, and we are fine with that. Sheep are portrayed as warm and cuddly. “Mary had a little lamb,” not a goat!

 

The truth is that goats and sheep are closely related, but with differences. Both are pretty intelligent. Goats are better at defending themselves, while sheep are not well designed for defense against predators. Goats like to escape any pens they are put in. They will look for a way to get through any fence and if a way can be found, they break free. They are sure-footed and great climbers. Sheep are flocking animals and need a leader. They do best when being well led and have excellent hearing. But they are vulnerable to all kinds of predators. Hence, a good shepherd is crucial to their survival. And survive they do: there about a billion sheep on this planet. If you are wearing wool today, be glad there are so many sheep willing to provide your warmth.

 

A shepherd separates them because of their differences. Goats like to be warm at night, but on their own terms, while sheep like the coolness of the open air. After all, they are adorned with wool. Even more pertinent, goats are rather independent and sheep decidedly dependent. Sheep simply must have shepherds to care for them.

 

A good shepherd cares for the sheep and knows them and, therefore, separates the goats from the sheep. That is how this lengthy and well-known parable begins, with a shepherd separating them. Some people like cats and dogs equally, but most have a preference. The shepherd knows the lives and needs of sheep and is committed to their safety and welfare. God does that for us.

 

Scripture frequently calls us sheep and often portrays God as shepherd. David was a shepherd before he was a king and naturally prays, “The Lord is my shepherd.” In a better-known parable Jesus tells of an owner of a hundred sheep. At the end of day he realizes that one is missing. So what does he do? He leaves the 99, which entails some risk, and goes and finds the lost one, bringing it back rejoicing, as there is rejoicing in heaven over sinner returning to the flock.

 

Shepherding is crucial to understanding the biblical image of God and those that follow God. Ultimately, this parable is not about goats or sheep; it is about the King who comes to us in the most unexpected ways. It is about the King of glory who stoops to become a shepherd. At first it seems that this shepherd King comes to us hidden, leaving us in some kind of hide and seek game, trying to find Jesus. Or like a Where’s Waldo picture in which we know Waldo is there if we can concentrate enough to find him.

 

Rather than hidden, what is being revealed is that the Lord often comes to us in disguise. He appears in ways we weren’t expecting. With both the sheep and the goats in the story, we ask, “When? When, Lord, did we see you hungry, thirsty, a stranger, unclothed, sick, in prison? When?” And the goats can only say, “If we had had only known that is was you, we would have fallen over ourselves to serve you.” And the sheep say something like, “We didn’t know it was you, but now we see.”

 

This Sunday marks the culmination of the year on the Church’s calendar. Next Sunday is Advent #1, the beginning of a new church year. We hold back on Christmas carols until it is Christmas or very near, but I will confess this to you. Even early in Advent, and just before Advent, I will put some favorite Christmas carols, hymns, and songs in the CD deck when I am driving. It is my way of saying no to the radio stations that dare put “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” right before “O Holy Night.” Two that I never tire of hearing tie in nicely with this Jesus who comes to us so unexpectedly, seemingly in disguise.

 

“Mary did you know that your baby boy would one day rule the nations?
Did you know that your baby boy is heaven’s perfect Lamb?
This sleeping child you’re holding is the great I am.” Could she have possibly known that she birthed the King of kings when she held that crying little baby in her arms?

 

The second one is like it.

“Sweet little Jesus Boy, 
They made You be born in a manger
 / Sweet little Holy Child
/ They didn’t know who You were; Didn’t know You’d come to save us 
Lord, to take our sins away
; Our eyes were blind 
And we could not see
. We didn’t know who You were.”

There was once an old stone monastery tucked away in the middle of a forest. For many years people would make the significant detour required to seek out this monastery. The peaceful spirit of the place was healing for the soul. In recent years however fewer people were making their way to the monastery. The monks had grown jealous and petty in their relationships with one another, and the animosity was felt by those who visited.

The Abbot of the monastery was distressed by what was happening, and poured out his heart to a wise old Jewish rabbi. Having heard the Abbot’s tale of woe he asked if he could offer a suggestion. “Please do,” responded the Abbot. “Anything you can offer.” The rabbi said that he had received an important vision: the messiah was among the monks. The Abbot was flabbergasted. One among his own was the Messiah! Which one? He raced back to the monastery and shared his exciting news with his fellow monks. The monks grew silent as they looked into each other’s faces. Which one was the Messiah?

From that day on the mood in the monastery changed. Those two started talking again, neither wanting to be guilty of slighting the Messiah. Those two left behind their frosty anger and sought out each other’s forgiveness. The monks began serving each other, looking out for opportunities to assist, seeking healing and forgiveness where offence had been given. Travelers began to find their way to the monastery. Word spread about the new spirit of the community. People once again took the journey to the monastery and found themselves renewed. All because those monks knew the Messiah was among them, though they didn’t just which one was Jesus.

There is a cultural custom of beginning a new year with resolutions. I dare offer this one for our consideration. Let’s look for Jesus in the faces of the unlikely. In the hungry and the thirsty, the stranger, the underclothed, the sick, and the imprisoned. What if every white police officer encountering a black youth stopped and looked for Jesus in him? What is every black youth being encountered by a white police officer stopped and looked for Jesus in her? What if every Palestinian encountering an Israeli stopped and looked for the Lord in him? What if every Israeli encountering a Palestinian stopped and looked for Messiah in her? Let me get it really close to where we live. In the next six weeks every time we see a store clerk facing a line of impatient shoppers, a store manager overwhelmed by angry bargain-hunters, a minimum wage teen trying to get an order right at a fast-food restaurant, let’s look for Jesus right there. Let’s say the kind word and do the kind thing. We never know where we will have opportunity to minister to Jesus.

After her car ran out of gas on a dark New Jersey highway last month (October, 2017), Kate McClure pulled over and tried to walk to the nearest gas station. But a nearby homeless man didn’t let her go far, telling her to climb back in the car and lock the doors while he went instead. Johnny Bobbitt spent his last $20 on a can of gas for her.

While she didn’t have cash to repay him at the time, McClure and her boyfriend returned to Johnny’s spot along the side of the road the next day to return the money. Over the following weeks, she kept stopping by to chat with Johnny and give him a few dollars. Finally she decided to set up a GoFundMe page for him. McClure wrote on the page. “He is such a great guy, and talking to him each time I see him makes me want to help him more and more.” To date, the campaign has raised over $300,000. Bottom of Form Before he became homeless, Johnny served with the Marine Corps and worked as a firefighter and paramedic.

 

And this King comes to us as a shepherd, a carpenter, a servant, and a pauper. And as one hungry, thirsty, a stranger, unclothed, sick, and in prison—wondering if we will notice him, recognize him, and minister to him in the need of another.

 

 

 

 

 

Portfolio Planning: a look at Matthew 25:14-30 in the season of Thanksgiving

 

Note: I preached this sermon on 11/19 at the Community of the Savior in Rochester NY. Parts specific to that church have been removed.

 

We heard more and more about this man, a financial planner and entrepreneur. People we knew raved about how much money he was making from their investments. He would buy run down properties, pay a crew to re-model them, and then rent or sell them for big profits. He knew our area and had a keen eye for real estate with income-making potential. We had two young daughters and both would be heading to college not many years off. Our combined income was modest. It sounded so good. We met with him and were impressed. Then we went to a good friend who was vice-president of a leading saving institution in our region. We asked if thought we should make such an investment. He agreed that it sounded good and sound, if a bit risky. He said that his savings bank could not give a return anywhere near what was promised it us. And he said, “Don’t invest more than you can afford to lose.”

 

That we did. We took some money that we had been setting aside to build a garage and added a little more to it. He showed us a photo of the property our investment would go into. A short while later he stopped receiving phone calls or visits. He declared bankruptcy—we lost every penny we had invested. But we heeded our banker friend’s advice and didn’t invest more than we could afford to lose. We didn’t build that garage until years later, after our daughters finished college. We took a risk, which we deemed reasonable. We lost our investment, but we survived and have even thrived since.

 

Investment is a key concept in responsible living. When we get a job, we may set up some sort of investment, like an IRA. If we have children, we may invest in their future by giving them piano or ice-skating lessons. We don’t know if they will become accomplished pianists or Olympic athletes—or ever make any money or even make a living from those disciplines—but we are investing in them. They are worth it.

 

This parable has long been known as the parable of the talents. However, we use the word talents in a very different way today, for instance skills such as playing an instrument or skating on a hockey team. Back then a talent was a balance used for weighing amounts of metals, like silver and gold. A talent in that time meant a great amount of money, perhaps several years’ wages. That word often translated talent is used in two places in the New Testament. The first is in the parable of the unforgiving servant in Matthew 18. You may remember that he was forgiven a great amount of money, 10,000 talents in the parable, which was millions of dollars, but then unwilling to forgive a co-worker a few dollars. The second instance is in today’s Gospel. Those are the only two occurrences. And I was assigned both! Yes, two months I preached from the parable of the forgiven-but-unforgiving servant and now I am preaching from the parable of the three servants entrusted with money. This has me wondering. Am I a very talent-challenged guy? Or is God about to entrust a great deal of money to me and see what I do with it? I am available, Lord!

 

Jesus’ parables are not elaborate allegories, but simple stores from everyday life that he uses to make single points, often sharp points, even uncomfortable points, and sometimes surprising points. What is the point of this parable? It seems to me that the point is this: when God has entrusted us with something, we are expected to do something with that trust. Not to bury it, but to invest it.

 

Jesus and the writers of the New Testament often warn against the dangers of having earthly riches. And for reason. In the world today, the richest 1% hold just over half of the world’s total wealth. In our country, the three wealthiest people have about as much wealth as the bottom 50%. Wealth is not evenly spread or shared, and those with much wealth, the Bible warns, can believe that they are better than others, smarter than others, and even more blessed by God than others—all of which are insidious traps. There is danger in trusting in our own wealth. I really like one of those three richest Americans: Warren Buffet. He has challenged the wealthiest to a giving pledge, that they will give more than 50% of their holdings—either while they are alive or upon their deaths—to concerns such as poverty alleviation, refugee aid, disaster relief, global health, education, women and girls’ empowerment, medical research, arts and culture, criminal justice reform, and environmental sustainability. I like that list. I believe that a number approaching 200 billionaires have already signed that pledge, including Bill and Melinda Gates, the wealthiest Americans. I like that pledge. We don’t have to be billionaires to respond to this challenge. Would that more congregations had a commitment to ministry parity, which means investing in ministry beyond ourselves as much as ministry among ourselves.

 

The challenge of this parable is to invest in God’s work, whether we have been entrusted with much or little. The third servant was entrusted with a smaller amount than the first two. The problem is not that smaller amount, but what he does with it. He buries the trust. He hides his gift. The other two made investments. The amount didn’t matter, but the act of investing, even if there was risk. Before the master could confront him, he came forward and said, “Master, I knew that you were a harsh man; I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground.” His problem was a deficient view of his master. I assume that Jesus is likening God to the master in the story. The third servant’s problem is that he did not see his master as gracious and generous, but harsh and exacting. His attitude about his master shapes his behavior. What would we do with what is entrusted to us if we see God as generous? God has invested in us so graciously and generously. In Jesus, God has entrusted the greatest gift to us. Doesn’t that make us want to be more gracious and generous? God calls us to be co-investors in what God is doing on planet earth.

 

The statistics about the giving of American Christians are grim. The percentage of our income that we give is embarrassingly low. I wonder if the biggest hurdle in American Christianity is that we don’t see God as gracious and generous; hence we tend not to gracious and generous. Christians are only giving at 2.5 percent per capita. What would happen if believers were to increase their giving to a minimum of 10 percent? There would be an additional $165 billion for churches to use and distribute. Here are just a few things the Church could do with the kind of money:

• $25 billion could relieve global hunger, starvation, and deaths from preventable diseases in five years.
• 
$12 billion could eliminate illiteracy in five years.
• $15 billion could solve the world’s water and sanitation issues, specifically in places where 1 billion people live on less than $1 per day.
• $100 billion plus would still be left over for additional ministry expansion.

I believe God equips us for everything God calls us to be and to do. This is an exciting time, a time for investing in our Lord’s work in increasing ways. Who of us would want the Lord to find us burying what he has entrusted to us because we were fearful and saw God as harsh? Wouldn’t we rather hear the Lord say, “Well done, good and trustworthy servant; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master?” This investment mentality, this good understanding of financial stewardship, is all about entering into the joy of the Lord. Here and now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jill, a friend from church, and I visited Carl at his assisted living home on a gray November morning (is there any other kind of November morning?). Carl is quite old, suffering declining hearing and sight, but still cheerful. We happened to arrive just as Mass was beginning, not by plan, and Carl was not about to leave Mass. Carl is traditionally Roman Catholic, while we are Protestants. We took seats in the second row (everyone else was in one oval-shaped row). The altar was set on a rec room kind of table in a room that serves for table games, ice cream socials (five flavors were listed on the board), and movies. The priest was Nigerian; English was clearly his second language. His assistant, Carol, was Miss Sunshine in the very best sense of the word: friendly, cheerful, with a voice stronger than her slight frame would have suggested, and making sure everyone had worship guides in hand.

 

We started by singing “Amazing Grace.” The lips of all seventeen worshipers were moving in sync. One man raised both hands in worship. As the priest gave his homily, a few nodded nodded off. Most of the worshipers knew the Eucharistic liturgy by heart and joined in at just the right times. When he brought the host around the circle, he had to wake up one woman. That was all she needed, as she smiled broadly and took her portion of the body of Christ. I smiled too.

 

As the gifts were approaching us, Jill looked at me and whispered something to the effect of, “May we partake?” “They didn’t tell us we couldn’t,” I said. The host was brought to each of us and we partook, with great joy. This was a foretaste of the Great Supper being readied for us in heaven.

 

The final song was “This Little Light of Mine,” the priest nearly dancing as Carol led us. Musically, I could have been at vacation Bible school. I couldn’t help but raise my index finger as we sang, “Let is shine, let it shine, let it shine.”

 

We walked with Carl to his room for a brief visit, and then walked him to the dining hall for lunch, for which he insisted on being early. With the Mass, our visit took far longer than I had reckoned for, yet I drove away smiling and singing, “I’m gonna let it shine, let it shine, let is shine.” It was a good way to spend most of a gray November morning.

I am a patriot, American born and bred and I love my native land. I have traveled widely beyond our borders and that has taught me at least two things: First, every country I have visited, even the poorer ones, have their own unique beauty and pride. I have loved the people of every country I have visited. Second, I love my country, even as I love every other country I have visited. I am proud to be an American.

I am a patriot, and a Democrat. While I usually vote for Democratic candidates at every level, I have voted for Republican candidates at every level. I intend to continue that pattern, usually voting for Democrats but always willing to vote for Republican candidates. I have even voted third party and write-in on rare occasions. I am under no illusions that either major party can solve all our problems. We need one another. While I hold liberal positions on some issues, I hold conservative views on other issues. Republicans are not my enemies. (Two of my favorite presidents were Republicans.)

I am a patriot with friends all over the political spectrum. Some of my best friends, dear friends, are Republicans–and I want it that way. When I served a congregation as their pastor for 38 years, I knew that the congregation spanned the political spectrum, for which I was and am grateful. As a pastor I never told the congregation how I was voting or how they should vote. In my 38 years of leading pastoral prayers on Sundays, I always prayed for the president without regard to party or my views.

I am a patriot and now that I am not the pastor of a congregation I am taking more freedom in expressing some of my political views and opinions. Especially have I done so in this season because so many of Trump’s words deeply offended my faith. I hope that anything I write about politics is drenched in honesty and grace. When that is not the case I ask for forgiveness.

As a patriot I write shortly after the peaceful transfer of power. I am grateful for that peaceful transfer. I did not vote for Mr. Trump. In fact, I was troubled by his candidacy from his announcement a year and a half ago. I watched every Republican debate and simply could not believe that he could win the party’s nomination. His continued pattern of reckless speech berating other candidates and sections of the American population troubled me deeply. When he won the nomination, I thought there was no way he could win the general election, even through Secretary Clinton had lots of baggage and high unfavorable numbers.

Early on last November 9 we found out that Trump won the electoral vote, though in the days following we found out that Clinton won the popular vote by almost 3 million votes. That bothers me. We found out about very probable Russian interference in the election and that bothers me. I found FBI director Comey’s letter to congress 10 days before the election and then retraction of concern a week later very troubling. When Trump backers are troubled that the legitimacy of his presidency is questioned, I remind them that Trump publicly questioned the legitimacy of Obama’s presidency for several years.

I am a patriot and now Trump is president. My president. I accept that, even with the cloud over the election mandate. I will not say that he is not my president as long as he holds the office. What will I do about his presidency?

First, I will pray for him. As a follower of Jesus I am under orders to pray for those in authority. I am doing so and will do so.

Second, I will support his initiatives whenever I can. I will read and listen carefully and give him the benefit of the doubt whenever possible. I believe that he wants America to be great and prosperous.

Third, I will oppose him whenever I believe his actions are not in the best interests of our country and our world. I will always seek to do so in the great Christian tradition of respectful civil disobedience.

I am a patriot, but I am not a nationalist. There is a difference.  I believe that nationalism is dangerous wherever practiced. My nation is often right and often wrong. I love it enough to criticize it. I love it enough to resist when I thing it is wrong.

As a patriot I will not give my country absolute or unqualified allegiance. My absolute and unqualified allegiance will be given only to God and what the New Testament calls the kingdom of God. I will not bow the knee to any governmental leader. I will not make an idol of my country.

As a patriot I am troubled by “America first” language. I want America to prosper and peace to prevail, but I will not hold my nation to be superior to any other nation. I want God to bless all nations. I want my nation to be known for its goodness more than its greatness. As Lincoln often said, I believe that right makes might–and not the reverse.

As a patriot I will continue to respect and hold in high regard Barack Obama. While a flawed human being and, like everyone to hold that office, a flawed president, I found so much commendable in his public life and in his personal life. I have great affection for President Obama and Michelle Obama. Hence, I will recoil strenuously at any comments that belittle him, his wife, and his daughters. The Obamas are great patriots. I give thanks for their service to our nation.

No matter who our president is, about half the nation is not happy with him (and someday soon, I hope, her). Lincoln is my favorite president and he was reviled and hated by millions. The man who assassinated Lincoln thought that his heinous act would make him a hero to millions of Americans. Hanging in my study is a copy of Lincoln’s second inaugural address. I am reading it again, humbled by his humility, wisdom, and grace in our nation’s greatest trial.

While I object to so much Trump has said–and done–I will not hate him. I hope that his time in office is marked by peace and prosperity, with “liberty and justice for all.” I hope that his wife and family are held in respect.

I am a patriot.