Sermon Year A Epiphany 2

Come and See

I received a wonderful Christmas gift this year
from my son and his family.
It is book titled Listening is an Act of Love.

This book is a collection of stories recorded
by an independent nonprofit project called StoryCorps.
If you aren’t familiar with the book,
you may have heard some of these stories on NPR occasionally.

The mission of StoryCorps is to honor and celebrate
one another’s lives through listening.

Since 2003 tens of thousands of ordinary people
have interviewed family and friends
in StoryCorps recording booths.
Each conversation is recorded on a free CD to take home and share,
and is also archived for future generations at the Library of Congress.

I want to share with you one of these stories.
It is in the book and was also broadcast as a podcast this past week.
If you are hooked into iTunes
you can listen to this story on line when you go home.

It is Martha Conan’s story
and she told it to her daughter in law Brittany.
Martha was one of the survivors
of the deadly United Airlines Flight 232 plane crash
which occurred in 1989.

111 people died in that accident.
But 185 people survived.
However, only 13 people walked away with no injuries at all.
Martha Conan was one of those 13.

She tells of the survivors, of which she was one,
talking with counselors and social workers after the crash.
She struggled to make sense
of why she walked away unharmed
when so many others were killed or critically injured.

A young counselor said to her,
“God must have had a reason for saving you.
You haven’t yet finished
the work God wants you to do here on earth.”

And Martha Conan struggled with those words.
Because if those words were true,
Then what about the 111 people who died?
Was God finished with them?
Was their work done?
Babies and children died on that flight.
How could their work be completed?

Martha Conan cannot accept that explanation—
and neither can I.
We are not marionettes
And God is not some great puppet master out in the cosmos,
jerking us around,
picking and choosing who gets to live and who gets to die,
whose work is finished, whose work is not yet done.

So what does it mean to be alive here on this earth—
especially when others are not alive?

Our scripture readings this morning
offer us some wisdom in that direction.

Isaiah names it well—
God gives us each gifts, unique gifts.
God makes us stewards of those gifts and we are asked to be faithful stewards.
Part of the work of the Church is to help us with stewardship.
to help us celebrate and use those gifts
and to give us strength to oppose the forces
that deceive us into wasting those gifts or taking them for granted.

Whatever our gifts
we are called to view them with the same radiance and beauty
that God sees in each of us--
even, as Isaiah says, while we were in our mother’s womb.

Many of us spend an inordinate amount of time
wishing we were someone else,
wishing our lives were different,
wishing we had received the gifts someone else has received.
This is our 21st century version of
resorting to evil spirits or turning to false gods.
The truth is
we are called to celebrate both our own gifts
and to equally celebrate the gifts of others.
Perhaps the greatest gift we all receive is this present moment.
In reality, this moment,
right here, right now,
is all we really have.

Martha Conan believes that her lesson from walking away from that plane crash
was not to affirm that God chose her over others.
Her lesson was to receive a wake up call to treasure the present.
The gift she received was a deep understanding
of why she needed and now wanted
to change the way she would live her life.

Never again would she walk out of her house angry with someone.
Never again would she fail to tell someone how much she loves them.

Never again would she harden her heart and not forgive someone,
even when someone has hurt her or diminished her.
Never again would she forget to give thanks for simply being alive.
Every day as the sun rises
she is grateful for the gift of being here to rise with it.

The voice of God that Martha Conan hears is one which says:
This is your ONLY life.
Be grateful.
Don’t take it for granted.
Don’t wait for “perfect.”
Live with gratitude and thanksgiving---every day.
Live with gratitude and thanksgiving for each person who shares your life.

I knew an older woman whose last years were lived out in a nursing home.
In my mind,
she deserved better than that.
In my mind,
there was everything for her to be discouraged and despondent about—
most of her family were deceased, the others seldom visited.
Yet I never heard her complain.

She said to me,
My gift here at this time in my life,
and in this place,
is that I have all this time to pray for people.
Isn’t it wonderful that I can lay right here in this bed
and still pray.

And that is how she spent those long hours—praying.
We all know people (maybe even ourselves on occasion?!!!?)
who have lots of time
but jampack those hours
with complaining or criticizing or simply full-tilt busy-ness.
What a waste!

The woman who filled her waking—and probably even sleeping—hours
with prayer, once commented to a friend of mine:
Oh honey! Even when you have lost everything—
if you still have Jesus, that is enough.
That is more than enough.

Isaiah and Paul and John and many others in the Bible
are honest and forthright
because they know
that God’s gift is not getting to live
a perfect, easy, trouble-free life.
That is not the gift we receive
just because we are believers,
just because we are Christians.

But when we open our eyes, our ears, our hearts, —
we see that God is, indeed, our strength.

As the psalmist writes,
God lifted me out of the desolate pit, out of the mire and clay;
God set my feet upon a high cliff and made my footing shure.

God puts a new song in our mouths.
And that song is a song of praise and thanksgiving.

It is not a song of complaint or bitterness or regret.
It is praise and thanksgiving that illuminates God’s grace.

We don’t come into the world or into our faith
with a warranty or a money-back guarantee.
We come into this world as beloved children of God.
We are called to see that as pure gift, pure abundance, absolutely enough.

Jesus invites the disciples—and we are among those—
to come and see.
We are invited to come and see where Jesus lives.

Jesus lives in every person, in every place, in every life--
in the good, the bad and the ugly.

Through the grace of God, we have each been given what Martha Conan
discovered when she walked away from that plane crash:

The gift is being here another day.
The gift is this one amazing, incredible life.
Our work is to find the way to live joyfully with thanksgiving.

Jesus calls us to come and see.
Jesus invites us to come and stay.
Jesus encourages us to come and give thanks—always.

Sermon for Anna & Ethan's Baptism: Epiphany I

Gloria

What a joy it is to be here with you at All Saints.
Ben may have told you
that he and I were classmates at Virginia Theological Seminary.
(Now if you're looking at Ben and then looking at me
and thinking, "My! She hasn't aged well,"
let me just say, I had a head start on Ben of a few years--
in fact my daughter and Ben were classmates at Kenyon College
for their undergraduate studies).
Friendship does overcome age and
Ben and Ellen and I became friends during our time together
at seminary
and that friendship has continued in this Diocese.
So I am honored to be here because I think the world of Ben and Ellen.

And having been a resident of this Diocese for over 11 years,
I also know a few other faces in this congregation.
So being here this morning is, indeed, pure joy!

This morning, as you know, we will baptize
both Ethan Gabriel Gibson
and Anna Wolfe Robertson.
That is quite appropriate—and wonderful-- on this first Sunday after Epiphany
when the whole Church celebrates the Baptism of our Lord.

But first I want you to take one step backwards,
back towards Christmas.
I serve now as the Rector at St. John’s in Asheville.
and like many parishes,
we have a children’s Christmas pageant
at our early service on Christmas eve.

Now when I served at St. Mary’s in Blowing Rock,
every year we actually had a real baby for the baby Jesus
in our pageant.
It just seemed to always work out that there was a baby just the right age
(a little older than newborne—let me assure you!!)

But at St. John’s a new doll was purchased and wrapped in swaddling clothes
and became our Baby Jesus
(who, by the way, gave an Oscar worthy performance in the pageant).

After the pageant
one of the children, who had been one of our littlest angels,
was horrified to think that the Baby Jesus
was going to be put away in a storage closet
along with the pageant costumes.

Our very intuitive Christian Formation director—also the pageant director—
said to the little girl,
Addie, would you like to take the Baby Jesus home with you?

The answer was YES!! YES!!
So on Christmas Eve,
the Baby Jesus went home with Addie.

Since then,
every Sunday Addie arrives at the church with her mother--
and the Baby Jesus comes, too.

He has a new wardrobe now—
swaddling clothes have been replaced by a mint green jump suit
and he looks quite happy.

Last Sunday Addie was at church--
along with the exceptionally well-attired Baby Jesus--
and following the service, at Coffee Hour
Addie told me she had changed the baby’s name.

Really? I asked. What is the Baby Jesus’ name now?
Gloria, she responded.

Sometimes even priests are wise enough to know
when to be silent, to not say anything.

It was only later that day as I was driving home from church
that I got it.
Gloria.
As in Gloria in Excelsis Deo!
I think the Baby Jesus would approve the name change.

And I tell you this story not to leave us stuck back in Christmas
but because I think it has everything in the world to do with this day—
this day we celebrate the baptism of our Lord.
this day we celebrate the baptism of Anna and Ethan.

Baptism really is about Gloria—
Sacraments sing out to the world: Glory to God in the highest!

Baptism is indeed a holy mystery.

We can’t even begin to touch or comprehend the immensity
of the grace received in baptism.
Baptism springs from the deepest essence of God.
We as human beings may never fully understand its meaning—
at least not in this world.

And yet,
and yet,
we are drawn to the font.
For thousands of years—we keep coming to these waters of baptism.

We are drawn to baptism for ourselves,
for our children, for our grandchildren.
We just cannot stay away.

We might say,
Well, it’s just what you are supposed to do as an Episcopalian,
as a Christian.

But it is far deeper and broader and wider than that.

Jesus himself
offers himself to be baptized.

He doesn’t skip this step.
He doesn’t ignore it, saying with a shrug,
Well, after all, I AM the Son of God.
Surely I don’t have to go through this liturgical ritual.

But no.
Jesus, too, is drawn to the waters of baptism—
and he insists—he insists—that John baptize him.

Jesus understands it is not a do-it-yourself event.
Baptism is the beginning of being part of a community,
the people of God.
Baptism is the beginning of sharing ministry together.
Baptism is the beginning of looking at one another and noticing
we are all marked as God’s beloved children.

No matter what happens to us in our lives,
no matter if we mess up or get messed up,
if we disappoint others or ourselves,
no matter if we become famous or infamous,
celebrity or ordinary,
rich or poor,
Baptism is our assurance
that God’s arms are always wide open and waiting--always.

Ethan and Anna do not come to the font on their own.
They come because of the love made incarnate in Christ--
which, in turn, comes to them in their parents,
in their godparents, in their grandparents, in their families,
and most importantly in the love of this congregation.

God entrusts you today with an enormous responsibility
and an absolutely awesome gift as witnesses to this event.

Baptism is not a private party with a select and exclusive guest list.
Baptism is a holy fiesta—and the whole community is invited to be present.

John baptizes Jesus in the Jordan River
and the heavens open up and a voice is heard:
This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.

Today that very same voice says:
This is Ethan, my beloved, with whom I am well pleased.
This is my beloved Anna with whom I am well pleased.

We should all wear nametags that say,
Hello, my name is (you fill in the blank with your name),
I am God’s beloved with whom God is well pleased.

For we are God’s beloved.
We are called to this journey of sharing God’s love with the world
and our baptismal covenant is the map that guides us.

Christ is before us, beside us, beneath us, above us
and always and forever with us.

In baptism
we are marked as Christ’s own forever.
The heavens open.
The waters part.

And all our names—at least for one brief moment in time—
are changed to Gloria!

Epiphany Sermon

Sharing our bread


No one ever went near the house of la vecchia ("the old woman"),
whose name was Befana.
Some thought that she was a witch with mysterious powers.

Her body was twisted,
and she leaned on an old broom in order to move about.
Her hands were withered and crooked
from working the land and tending her few animals.
She had stringy gray hair,
pulled back from her face
and tied with rags,
and her clothes were patched and worn.

The old woman kept to herself.
She busily spent every day keeping the fire going
in her small cottage and sweeping the floor all day long.
Befana lived near Bethlehem.
One cold winter's night
while preparing her supper of beans and bread,
she heard a knock at the door.

Leaning on her broom, she slowly hobbled to the door and called out,
"Who is it?"



A deep soothing voice answered,
"Please, help us, we are lost."
Befana opened the door just a crack,
but the light that shone through nearly blinded her.
Before her towered three kings,
dressed in brilliant colorful cloaks of purple, blue, and green.
Each king wore a crown of gold
and a large jeweled necklace.

Befana kept squinting to see them
because they were so dazzling.

"We have come to worship
at the feet of the Child King, born in Bethlehem,"
said the tallest king.

"We have been following His star as the angel prophesied,
but have lost the way.
Can you tell us where He is?"

Befana was astonished by their words.
"I know of no king born in these parts," she said
and proceeded to shut the door.


"Wait," begged one of the kings,
"come with us and we will find Him together."

Befana shook her head from side to side.
"I cannot go. I have animals to tend, vegetables to water,
and a house to clean.
Besides, what would this king want with an old woman like me?"


The kings said good-bye to the unwilling Befana
and continued on their journey.
The old woman sat down to eat her now-cold beans,
but she was not hungry.
She kept thinking about the strangers
and their invitation.

Something inside her said that she should go.
Without wasting a minute,
Befana picked up her broom,
put a few pieces of bread in a sack,
and set out to find the strangers.

She followed their footsteps and those of their camels
for as long as she could.
But then a great wind came
and blew away all traces of their path.

Befana walked and walked,
and in each town that she came to,
she asked if the three men in brilliant clothes had passed through,
but no one had seen or heard of them.

Discouraged, she lay down near a rock and fell asleep.
The next day, she began her journey again,
never ceasing to ask the same question.
Every time she saw a baby,
she broke off a crust of bread and gave it to the child,
thinking that this baby might be the Child King
who would recognize her.

Italian legends tell us

that to this day, Befana is still wandering

through towns and villages

looking for the Child King.

Every year on the Feast of Epiphany, or Three Kings,

the children of Italy eagerly await the arrival of la vecchia,

who still leaves each child a small gift.

Today we celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany.

The Wise Men have arrived and seen this baby.

The World now knows
this baby has come for everyone—
not just for one religious or ethnic group,
but for the whole world.

Today we bring forward our gifts for the babies in our community.

Like Befana,

we should always be looking for the Christ Child,

sharing our bread, our abundance, or even our scarcity of abundance,

Sharing what little we have

with those who have even less.

Each time we gather as a community for the Holy Eucharist—
Eucharist being a word that means thanksgiving
we each receive a small piece of bread broken from a much large whole.
God gives us that bread
just as God gives us a baby named Jesus,
this Child King the wise men—and Befana-- sought.
The body of Christ,
the bread of heaven.
The body of Christ,
bread for the journey.

Just as we are given bread--
bread that is blessed and broken and given and shared--
we are called to go into the world---
not complaining of all that is lacking in our lives--
but celebrating all that is present
all that is given, all that is abundant and blessed.

I have a gift for each of you today.
It is a piece of chalk.
I know, I know—
you have all been dreaming that someone would give you a piece of chalk!

I give it to you so that you may take it home with you
and mark the entrance to your homes—
on the porch, on the sidewalk, on a wooden post, on the doorframe
the choice is yours.

Mark the entrance to your home with these letters
C-B-M
Those letters represent the first letters of three names—
Caspar, Melchior and Balthazar.
The names that are traditionally known as the names of the three magi.
Others say C-B-M stands for Christus Mansionem Benedicat—
Latin for May Christ bless this dwelling.

It is an ancient Epiphany tradition—more common in other parts of the world
than here in America—
to bless homes and chalk the doors with the blessing.

In front of the letters write 2007.
At the end of the letters write 2008.

2007 is over. Let it go.
Remember it but let it go.

2008 is all that lies ahead of us this year.
Embrace it.
Embrace every minute.
2007 C B M 2008

I give you this chalk as a blessing for your home, your life, your very being.
Mark this day.

Mark this day
as one that is full of the same wonder and joy
the wise men discovered
by following a star.

Mark this day
as one that is calling out to you
just as Befana was called
to go into the world,
and share what has been given to you—
And to never cease believing
that God works miracles,
that the Child King is just around the bend in the road.

Share your bread.
Live in blessing.
Follow the star.
Journey on.

Sermon for the Feast Day of St. John

Lord, what about him?

Today we celebrate the Feast of St. John,
Apostle and Evangelist.
The patron saint of this parish.

Who is St. John, Apostle and Evangelist?

His official feast day is December 27th.
We have legitimately transferred it to this Sunday.
This is the closest we can get to celebrate
and not interfere with Christmas eve or Christmas Day!

From the gospels we hear that John was the son of Zebedee.
That John was one of the 12 apostles selected by Jesus.
That John has a brother named James
and that John, James and Peter
were the inner circle
of the 12 apostles.
They are the ones that always seem to be with Jesus
at the really critical moments of his ministry.

It was those three
who were privileged to be present for
the miracle of the great catch of fish
the healing of Peter’s mother-in-law
the raising from the dead of Jairus’ daughter
the transfiguration
and the agony of Jesus in Gethsemane.

Some ancient writings—not scripture-- say that John was imprisoned
and exiled because of his proclaiming the gospel
but that he was eventually released and died a natural death in Ephesus:
“a martyr in will but not in deed.”

John is credited with the authorship of three epistles (I, II, III John)
and one Gospel.
Some biblical scholars disagree with this.

Some also credit John with the writing of the book of Revelation
Others say it was a different man named John,
Sometimes distinguished by being called John of Patmos.

Much of what we know about John
is the result of trying to put together pieces
of a biblical and historical puzzle.
We don’t KNOW
but we try to discern and understand and imagine
the different facets of this faithful and passionate follower of Jesus.

I checked with the Diocesan office
to see if this church is named after John the Baptist
or John, Apostle and Evangelist
And they affirmed the latter.

I was also told that if a church has John the Baptizer as their patron saint
the name of the church will reflect that:
St. John the Baptist or St John the Baptizer Episcopal Church
or St. John in the Wilderness Episcopal Church.
Our patron saint is John the Apostle and Evangelist

Now we are not the only St. John’s in the Diocese of Western North Carolina.
There is a St. John’s in Marion, one in Sylva,
And another in Franklin.

Interestingly, this parish did not start out as St. John’s—
we started out as Trinity Chapel
(thus the name of the street that leads up to our parish).

We started out as Trinity Chapel
because we were a church plant from Trinity Church downtown—
they wanted to spread the gospel
out to the far hinterlands,
the rural part of Buncombe Country.
(I guess a few things have changed since the late 1800’s!)

When we achieved full parish status,
the name St. John’s was selected.

We are the only one in Asheville.

Well, the only St. John’s Episcopal Church.
There is a St. John’s Baptist Church
And a St. John’s God of Holiness Church.

I don’t know whom they claim as their patron saint,
but I don’t think it’s a competition.

Our gospel reading offers us some advice about competition.

Jesus says to Peter, “Follow me.”
And Peter follows but is also checking out the territory
to determine if he has been especially selected by Jesus
or if any of the other disciples are coming along as well.

Peter turns and sees another disciple (the one that got to sit next to Jesus at supper)—
his name is John--
and this little edge of green envy appears around Peter
and he says, Well, Lord, what about him?!!
Does he get to follow you, too? Or just me?

And Jesus all but snaps at him,
How about you just don’t worry about him.
What’s it to you, Peter?
Focus on the “follow me” part,
not on how or when or why others are following me---or not.

This week I saw a funny cartoon on a calendar.
There was a group of cats—and one dog—sitting around in a circle.
They are playing spin the bottle.
One of the cats is getting ready to spin
and there is this little thought balloon coming out of the cat’s head
saying, Not the dog! Not the dog!

I think Peter has a similar thought balloon.
He is excited that Jesus has asked him to follow.
But he is also thinking, Not John! Not John! Don’t ask John to come, too!

We all have those thought balloons at times.
There are those who we may allow to sit in the circle,
but like the cat with the dog, we don’t want to have to kiss them!
(I’m speaking metaphorically, of course!!)

It might be a group of people—Republicans if we are Democrats,
Democrats if we are Republicans.
The no kissing rule definitely applies there.
Historically, even in the Church, we have excluded one group of the other—
blacks, women, Hispanics, immigrants, homosexuals, the disabled—
okay, they can play the game
but we are out of here if the bottle stops
and points to them.
In fact, we might just take our bottle and leave!
Or make them leave!

What about them, Jesus?

Sometimes it is not a group of people for us,
but just an individual.
One irritating individual that we just can’t stand.
They make our blood boil.
They are just wrong.
They are so obnoxious, so self-centered, so mean,
So..so..so…well, you know!

We are so sure that Jesus HAS to love us
more than he loves them!

Our gospel reading today
tells us how easy it is to become distracted
by wanting Jesus to love us more than he loves someone else,
by wanting to protect Jesus
from those we determine not worthy of Jesus’ love—
not worthy of our own love.

The message to us, as it was to Peter, is this:
Don’t get distracted.
Don’t waste time or energy worrying about other people’s behavior
because it’s usually not our business anyway.
Love is not about being worthy.

Perhaps John, this beloved disciple,
is a symbol for how truly and fully inclusive Jesus really is.
The mission of a parish named St. John’s
is to welcome everyone,
to be the tangible reminder
that Jesus loves us all.

We are all beloved disciples.
We are all invited to follow Jesus;
we are not invited to be in control of the guest list.

Jesus calls us to follow.
That means to walk the walk,
to read and listen to scripture and pay attention
to the way Jesus acted—
then go and do likewise.

We get ourselves in trouble when we try to force God
into a small, tidy, rational, linear-thinking box.
God is much too big for any box we might imagine.


This season of our church year—the season of Christmas—
is not about a small and tidy God.
This season
is all about dreams and visions and stars in the heavens.
I read this week, that one third of the Bible
is about “dreams, visions, prophecies, angelic visitations
and other direct reference to God’s mysterious
and yet undeniable leading of people”.
One third of the Bible! That’s a lot.

We are called not only to follow
but to trust that God is leading us, leading us all.

We name most of our Episcopal churches after saints--
to remind us that God works through ordinary people.
People like you and people like me.
People like John.

If we can just get ourselves out of the way,
if we can let go of our need to control,
God will turn ordinary into extraordinary at every opportunity.

John, Apostle and Evangelist, walks with us.
St. John is the one we have named and claimed
as our inspiration, as our patron saint.

The most significant thing we know about St. John
is that he truly and passionately loved Jesus.
John was transformed by love.
John’s hope, his prayer was that every one might know that love.

He followed Jesus because he wanted to make that love known to the world.
He spent his life doing just that.
St. John, Apostle and Evangelist.

St. John is the one we have claimed
here in this little corner of the city of Asheville.
May we listen and follow the call to make God’s love known to the world,
in our words and in our work,
from generation to generation
to generation.

Sermon for Christmas Day 2007

The Orange of My Eye

Merry Christmas!!

Doesn’t it feel wonderful to say those words!!

The waiting days of Advent have passed
and here we are on Christmas Day.

The fact of Jesus’ birth is true.
Jesus was born is a fact both of history and revelation.
However, the exact date of his birth is not recorded in the Gospels
But then, the gospels were never intended as factual biographies.

In fact it wasn’t until the 4th century—over 300 years after Jesus’ birth—
that some Christians began to be interested in the details of Jesus’ life.

In Rome, in the year 336, the date of December 25
was selected and designated as the day the Church would celebrate
the birth of Jesus.
In many ways the date was already considered a sacred time
as it came during the winter solstice;
there was a festival that celebrated the birth of the
Unconquerable Sun (that’s spelled S-U-N).
So the Church decided that December 25 would be an excellent date
To celebrate the birth of the Unconquerable Son (that’s spelled S-O-N).

December 25 was set by the Church in Rome
as the date for the Nativity of Our Lord.
It was not until the twelfth century that the day became known as Christmas—
a contraction of the two words “Christ’s Mass”.

So before the 12th century we might have greeted one another on this day
with “Merry Nativity of Our Lord.”

The observance of the 25th of December as the day Christ was born
spread rapidly in the Western Church—the Church centered in Rome.
However, the Eastern Church, centered in Constantinople—
celebrated the birth of Christ on January 6.

Rather than get in a knock down drag out fight about a date
the Western and Eastern Churches made the entire season
from December 25th until January 6th
the season of Christmas.
Western and Eastern churches each celebrating the Nativity
on the date of their choosing
And all coming together to celebrate the Epiphany on January 6.

That period from December 25th to January 6th was—and is—known
as the 12 days of Christmas.

My mother, growing up as a child in rural Eastern North Carolina—
Lizard Lick, to be exact—
Told me stories of celebrating “Old Christmas” on January 6th.
She would receive gifts on December 25th
and then they would receive her stocking gifts on January 6th.

Many times she told me
How wonderful it was to receive each year on Old Christmas a few small gifts in her stocking and one very special treasure: an orange.

Today we live in a world where oranges are a dime a dozen.
Well, not literally.
But we live with such abundance now
that receiving an orange is hardly a treasure.
But it was to my mother.

She said it was the only time of the year that she got an orange.
You couldn’t grow oranges on a red dirt farm in Eastern NC.
An orange was store bought—or Santa brought!
An orange was exotic.
An orange was special.

Every year as a child, my brother, my sister and I
would always find an orange in the top of our stockings.
It would be years before I understood that connection
between our mother’s childhood Christmas and our own.

I tell you this story because one of the beautiful things about Christmas
is how it connects us.
We are like little dots all scattered across an immense page
through the world and through the centuries.
And certain times—certain communal celebrations—connect us,
draw us together.
Christmas is certainly one of those celebrations.

That continuous line that draws us together is the love of God.
The immense, the never failing love of God.

Life is not always a full and overflowing stocking.
Life is sometimes very hard.
But Christmas is a celebration that is here to remind us that God loves us.

Curtis Almquist writes in his marvelous little book—
which I high recommend to you—
Unwrapping the Gifts: The Twelve Days of Christmas:

God loves you. Who you are, what you are, how you’ve gotten to be where you are: God knows and loves all that…God has plans for a relationship with you that lasts forever…when you’re sleeping, God is dreaming up says to be with you. When you’re working or walking or weeping, God is catching up with you in the wind across your face, in the singing of a bird, in the free fall of laughter, in the soothing touch of a friend. You are the apple of God’s eye.

(Or my mother might say…You are the ORANGE of God’s eye!)


The beautiful prologue from the gospel of John
always sounds to me like a love letter from God.
These opening words from John’s gospel
are the penultimate good news—

In the beginning was the Word
and the Word was with God
and the Word was God.

He was in the beginning with God.
All things came into being through him
and without him not one thing came into being…

And the Word became flesh and lived among us.

We live in challenging and often confusing world.
It is hard to know who to trust and who to believe.
We struggle to make ends meet and we struggle to do the right thing.
Yes, Christmas is a glorious day to celebrate.
But for many, just getting to this day has been a struggle.
Christmas is a glorious day
to lay down that struggle and just rest in God.


God offers us respite.
God offers us open arms to come and just collapse.
God offers us love that never ends.
God offers us this baby Jesus who came into the world
to show us love with a skin face.


Christmas Day is the beautiful messenger who comes to announce peace
and to bring us good news.

God loves you. God loves me.
We are all the oranges of God’s eye.

Sermon for Christmas Eve Midnight Mass 2007

It’s a surprise!!

My husband Tom and I are the grandparents
of two energetic, beautiful and brilliant grandsons,
Cedar and Orien.
Cedar is the oldest—he is 3-1/2. Orien is almost 2.
They live in Colorado on the top of a mountain (and I do mean the top!!)

It is a very exciting event in their day
when their daddy, our son,
comes home from work each evening.

Our son shared that one day a few weeks ago
Cedar ran to greet him at the door
Daddy! Daddy!
There is a great big package for you under the Christmas tree.
It’s all wrapped up and it is just for you.
It’s from mommy and it’s a surprise.
IT’S A COAT!

Tonight—Christmas Eve-- is the night of the ultimate surprise.
--and it’s not a coat--
it’s a baby.

The prophet Isaiah foretells:
A child has been born for us…
Authority rests upon his shoulders
He is named Wonderful Counselor,
Mighty God,
Everlasting Father,
Prince of peace.
There will be endless peace for the throne of David
and his kingdom.

All that sounds very good, doesn’t it?
I especially like that prophecy of endless peace.

So what happened?
Was Isaiah wrong?
Did God make a mistake?

No.

The psalmist writes “Sing to the Lord a new song.”
A new song.

Why is it we always expect
that God will do things in predictable patterns?
That is so seldom true.
God is all about being born in new ways.
And that means we have to pay attention, to stay awake.

What happens in Luke’s gospel
in Bethlehem,
is a new song:
a baby named Jesus—
born not in a palace, but in a manger.

This was truly a surprise.
No one guessed or expected
such a preposterous arrival in the world—
not for the long awaited Messiah!
Yet all gather round and they are 100% convinced:
This baby is the One.

This baby is the good news of great joy for all people.
This tiny, scrunchy faced, completely helpless, totally vulnerable baby—
here, indeed, is our Messiah.

A new song.
It was not as anyone expected.
It was not as anyone had planned or even prophesied.
This birth, this baby, was a complete unpredictable surprise.

Everyone thought the Messiah would come as an adult, a powerful king,
like Saul, like David.
The world expected a full-grown, sword wielding,
justice rendering Savior King.
But what they get is a baby.
God had other plans.

Christ comes as a baby.
A helpless, dependent, crying, messy baby.
Not what anyone expected.
but more than anyone could have hoped for.

Incarnation.
The word literally means “to take on flesh.”
This is what God did in Jesus.
God took on a human body and boldly entered into our world.

Incarnational theology has three basic points:
1. Jesus was fully divine.
2. Jesus was fully human.
3. Jesus was both fully divine and fully human at the same time—
it’s known as hypostatic union.

Wow.

Now you can believe that—
or not.
You can take that incarnational theology
or you can leave it with a shrug or even a “harrumph.”

But what I think none of us can doubt or deny
is the power of incarnation.
The power when things come to us
with a “skin face.”

Coming face to face with someone
is totally different than reading about something,
or hearing a story about someone.

Coming face to face with someone is not theory or theology.
It is presence.

Not “presents” as in all wrapped up
and sitting under the Christmas tree—
but presence
as in the being right here with us.

A few friends I know have been bursting with excitement for weeks
because people they love dearly and deeply--
a brother, a daughter, a husband--
flew home from Iraq this week.

Not only are their families and friends immensely grateful
for the safe return home of those they love,
but they all said the same words to me:

I’m so excited.
In just a few days, I will get to see her face again.
I will get to hug and hold my brother,
my daughter,
my husband.
I will see their face.
I will look into their eyes.
I will hear them laugh.
I will wrap my arms around them and hold them.
They will wrap their arms around me and hold me right back.

The power of incarnation.
The power of being present in all our touchy-feely, skin-face humanity.

Jesus arrives and he is a baby.
A helpless, vulnerable baby.
There is no doubt of his need for others to help him.
What a surprise package that was!!

That is the message of this night for us.
To lay aside our plans and our power.
To be open and vulnerable—with God and with one another.
To treasure every moment we have here together as our fully human selves.
To love each other so much that we are willing
to lay aside our plans and need to control.

That is a very new song for many of us.
It is a scary proposition to make oneself vulnerable.

We adults are masters at putting on a good front,
of bucking up and taking an aspirin,
of keeping our fears and our deep needs—even our love—
to ourselves.
And expecting others to do the same.

Our worldly ways tell us it is all about power and control,
being strong, being right.

God says no.
It is all about being open, being vulnerable,
being able to need God and need one another.

The situation in the first century when Jesus was born
was not all that different from what we have and struggle with today:
injustice, exploitation,
power struggles, danger,
suffering…

Believing that God is with us is not an assurance that we will never be hurt,
that we will never suffer.
Believing in God is not a steering wheel
that helps us swerve and miss all the potholes of life.

Our assurance is that God is with us
through all the road construction on our journey--
the delays, the detours, even the dead ends.

The assurance is that God delights in being the midwife for the birth
of our true, honest and vulnerable human selves.

The assurance is that if we are brave enough to sing a new song,
God will be there to accompany us.

The assurance is that God is guaranteed to surprise us—often.

A few nights ago
My husband Tom and I went out to dinner
at the North Star Diner in Weaverville.
There was a young couple there
with a little boy, not quite three years old.
He reminded us a lot of our grandson so we liked him immediately.

He was very active and lively--
and yes, there was a slight edge of total exhaustion
on the part of his parents.
Bright and lively children are not easy to keep up with 24/7!

This little boy—not even as tall as the table top—
was not about to do what was expected—
to sit quietly and placidly in their booth
and eat his macaroni and cheese.

He was much more interested in the people in the restaurant.
He slid from his seat, crawled under the table
and began walking around to each table in the restaurant.

He stopped at every single table
and with a big and gentle smile
gave everyone the same heartfelt greeting:
Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas.
People broke into big smiles.
People’s eyes lit up.
People’s stern facades melted away in an instant.

The whole restaurant was transformed by a tiny little boy—
a little boy with an open and vulnerable heart,
a little child who did not pick and choose
but greeted every single person there.

O holy Child of Bethlehem
Descend to us, we pray;
Cast out our sin and enter in
Be born in us today.
We hear the Christmas angels
The great glad tidings tell;
O come to us,
Abide with us,
Our Lord
Emmanuel.

Sermon for Christmas Eve 2007 5 pm Children's Pageant Service

Round yon Virgin Mother and Child

We lived in Virginia at the time.
We were out doing errands and one of those errands
took us to the Department of Motor Vehicles.
I don’t remember what the errand was,
but I do remember there was a long, long line
and we were waiting.

Waiting.
It was going to take awhile.

Our daughter—now almost 33 years old—was about 4 years old at the time.
a complete and total extrovert--
interested in everyone and everything.

As Tom and I stood in line
she went from person to person sitting in the chairs in that waiting room
and struck up a conversation.
We couldn’t hear what she was saying
but we could watch as people listened==
and then laughed.

Finally she was close enough and we heard the story she was telling each person—
My name is Benares.
I live in Greene County, Virginia.
I’m a Virgin.

Tom and I were stunned
I’m a virgin!!???

Where on earth did she get that?
What on earth does she think that means?

I pulled her gently aside and asked her,
“Honey, why are you telling people that you’re a virgin?”

Because, Mommy, we live in Virginia.
Aren’t people who live in Virginia called Virgins?

“No, honey, we’re called Virginians.”

Oh, she replied.

She hestitated a moment and then asked,
So Jesus’ mother wasn’t from Virginia?

Round yon virgin mother and child.

Our young daughter might have misunderstood the meaning of a word,
but she really understood the deep truth of the story.

The story of Jesus and his mother Mary was so very real,
so very feasible to our young daughter,
that surely these people must live just up the road from us in Virginia.
Surely they must be our neighbors.

To our daughter
the people in the Christmas story were very real, very alive.
The people were real enough and important enough
to be just like her.

Holy infant so tender and mild.

Holy infant.
That is the miracle of Christmas.
God’s son was born as one of us,
a human being,
a real live baby.

And isn’t it wonderful—
the world—
and we are part of that world this evening—
still gathers to rejoice in this event,
to share in the wonder of this holy night


You and I are living witnesses to the truth of this story.
This evening—right here at St. John’s—
we saw angels and shepherds and wise men.
Mary and Joseph and the baby Jesus were right here.
Right here in Asheville.
We saw them all with our own eyes.
Real. Alive.
They were here.

The story of Christmas eve is our story--
a story given to us almost two thousand years ago.
and we still tell it
just as it was told to us.

We tell it and hear it
and ponder it in our hearts
over and over and over.

The waiting of Advent has ended.
The long awaited Christ child has arrived.

God calls us to go and tell this story,
to share this good and joyful news.

Go tell it on the mountain
Over the hills and everywhere
Go tell it on the mountain
For Jesus Christ is born!