Filled to the Brim

Filled to the Brim
Matthew 3:13-17
January 9, 2011
Baptism of the Lord
William G. Carter

Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

It’s a brief little story, but don’t think for a minute that it’s not important.

It is the story of a baptism. Every baptism is important. Through the splashing of water and a promise from the Lord, baptism is the moment when God claims a human life. It’s when God says “You belong to me.”
Each one of us has to live in the world, but baptism declares we are citizens of heaven. Anybody who is baptized is not free to pretend that God does not matter. From the moment the water is wet on our brow, we listen for the Voice, we receive the blessing, we discover the new relationships which are chosen for us.

This is a baptism story. It is important.

And it’s a John the Baptist story. That means it is significant. John appeared in the right moment in time. He began to preach with urgency. “Get ready,” he said. “Repent, for God’s Kingdom is right here!” The casual observer would see only the sandstone and scorpions of the desert. But John the Baptist saw God’s possibilities. God would come to rule right then, right there, in the bleakest of times and circumstances. “Get ready,” John said. “Straighten out the highway so God can come to you.”

This is a John the Baptist story. It is significant.

And this is a Jesus story, which is what really catches our attention. Jesus comes to be baptized by John, and John says, “That’s backwards!” John was ready for God, so ready that he was prepared to trade the water of the Jordan for the fire of heaven. He would have his doubts later, but somehow right then, he knew that Jesus is the One. Certainly the signs were there: the heavens opened to him, the Spirit came down on him, the Voice spoke all about him: “This is my Son.”

And in the thick of it all, Jesus speaks his first recorded words in the Gospel of Matthew: “Let it be so now, for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Those are the first words that Matthew reveals. It’s not a teaching – oh, Jesus will do plenty of teaching. It’s not a sermon – actually for his first sermon, Matthew says Jesus borrowed the sermon of John: “Repent, for God’s Kingdom is right here!” Jesus doesn’t begin by preaching or teaching. He makes an announcement: “Let it be so now, right now, for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.”

This is a Jesus story, and he speaks so curiously. For one thing, his words sound rather formal: “Let it be so now” and “It is proper for us.” It sounds so official, so stiff, when Jesus could simply say, “Get out of the way. Let this happen. Don’t block what must take place.” But even then, Jesus is not merely referring to his desire to be baptized. No, something more is afoot: Jesus wants John to join him in “fulfilling all righteousness.” So what in the world is he talking about?

Righteousness? That is one of the most important words in the entire Gospel of Matthew. I will bet good money that’s why Jesus says the word in his very first spoken sentence. “Righteousness” is a word that he will speak over and over again in his teaching.

Now what do you think “righteousness” is? It is a ten-cent word. If somebody is “righteous,” what does that look like? Maybe it means they show up in church whenever the door is open, or that they are always praying and giving away their money, or that they don’t drink, curse, or chew – or kiss the women who do. Somewhere along the way, we get the notion that “righteousness” is mostly about behavior. That it’s about doing the right thing. Wouldn’t it be great if everybody did the right thing? Wouldn’t it be even better if we knew what the right thing was? John the Baptist thought he knew: the right thing was for him and Jesus to switch roles, and Jesus could baptize him… To do the right thing!

But when Jesus speaks of righteousness, it often sounds more like a relationship. In a few chapters, Jesus will teach us, “Strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness.” To put it more simply: live for God. Live completely for God. Let God’s values become your values. Let God’s character shape your character. God doesn’t worry, so don’t you worry. When God sends the rain, God doesn’t discriminate between the just and the unjust, so don’t discriminate in your generosity. God is swift in mercy and doesn’t keep score, so let go of all your grudges. Your love must be complete, just like the love of our heavenly parent.

This is “righteousness” for God’s children. It’s living completely for God, living for others as God lives for us. It is so much higher than merely following the official rules.

I told the group that was here yesterday about the day Roberta Spann knocked on my door. “Do you have a minute? Or longer?” she asked. She came in, sat with her purse and blurted it out: “I’m concerned about racism.” It was about the time of the Rodney King trial in Los Angeles. Her reading of world and local events troubled her deeply, and she declared, “I want to do something about it.” What she proposed was to knock on the door of the pastors of one of Scranton’s African-American churches, introduce herself, and see what she could do to bring our flock together with his. “Do you want me to come along?” I asked, and she said no. “I want to start the dialogue and simply need to know that you support it,” which I did.

Next thing I knew, we worked together in a soup kitchen, visited one another’s congregations in worship, and had one evening that I can only call a “hootenanny” when everybody was dancing in the aisles to Gospel music. Roberta didn’t have to start any of that. She could have played it safe, stayed up here on the mountain. Instead she went the extra mile – which is exactly how Jesus described God’s “higher righteousness.”

Righteousness is an important word. It has to do with living entirely for God and with God. Remember old Noah? The Bible says Noah was righteous, for he walked with God. Joseph did not divorce Mary which the Bible’s rules said he could do, because he was a righteous person. On the day of his baptism, Jesus says it is time to “fulfill all righteousness.”

But what about that word “fulfill”? It turns out that is also a favorite word of the Gospel of Matthew. Matthew is always talking about how things are “fulfilled.” At least seventeen times he uses that word! We have already heard in the Christmas story. Before Jesus is born, he is named by an angel. And Matthew adds, “This took place to fulfill what God said through the prophet.” Matthew just loves that word “fulfill.”

Matthew tells how Joseph and Mary hid the child in Egypt. King Herod was looking to destroy the baby, and after he died, after the coast was clear, Joseph brought the family home. And Matthew says, “This was to fulfill the old Bible verse about Israel in slavery, ‘Out of Egypt have I called my son.’”

Now, you could take that as a prediction. A lot of people do. They have this idea that Bible verses are part of some secret code, and God is just waiting to fulfill these hidden predictions. And it seems, the wilder the text, say for instance the Book of Revelation, and the crazier the predictions.

But that’s not how Matthew talks. His favorite word “fulfill” is not a spooky word. It is not a fortune-telling word, as if some strange mystic is going to predict a famine, flood, or the end of the world. No, the word is “fulfill.” Or to give you one of the nuances, to “fill full.” That is, to fill something up, to top it off so that it spills over. It is to make something astounding happen, something extraordinary, something generous.

Like in Matthew’s book, chapter eight. Jesus is visiting Simon Peter’s house, and discovers that Peter’s mother-in-law lies in bed with a fever. So he touches her hand – the fever immediately left her, and she got right up. Word spread immediately, and by nightfall, that little house was jammed with people who needed a healing. Some of them were sick, others had some mysterious demon that made them ill. Jesus cured every single one of them, says Matthew. Every single one of them. And then he adds, “Remember what Isaiah said? ‘He took our infirmities and bore our diseases.’ Jesus fulfilled this.” He filled up that verse, filled it up full, filled it up to the brim.

Just about every time Matthew says Jesus “fulfilled” something, there is a sense of generosity, a sense of overdoing it. That seems to be how the Gospel writer perceived God’s work in Jesus: it was so full, so abundant, so big and dramatic. Given the boredom and mediocrity of everyday life, we don’t expect much, we bide our time, we merely endure – and BAM! It’s Jesus!

So John the Baptism and Jesus have a brief conversation at the Jordan River. John says, “This is backwards; I want you to baptize me!” But Jesus declares, “No, you’ve got to do it. It’s time for righteousness, and we are going to fill it up full.”

It’s time to live in the grace of God’s presence. It’s time to love abundantly as God loves. It’s time to forgive and find alternatives to revenge and retaliation. It’s time to cancel violent anger, it’s time to stop demeaning people with words and lustful glances. It’s time to give generously to those who have nothing, it’s time to work for the welfare of those who hate you. This is the righteousness that fills us to the brim when we live with God, as we love as God loves.

I can’t think of better time. Especially today. The news comes from Tucson that a well-loved U.S. Representative was gunned down by a troubled soul. Some people have died, others were wounded, and we struggle to make sense of it. The news has been full of Tweets and Twitters, many people pointing fingers, accusing, others pointing back.

In the midst of the trauma, one of our most eloquent Christian leaders has pointed instead to Jesus. Her name is Diana Butler Bass, and last night she challenged the preachers and the church members to pursue his higher righteousness. Let me share what she has written:

At their best, American pulpits are not about taking sides and blaming. Those pulpits should be places to reflect on theology and life, on the Word and our words. I hope that sermons tomorrow will go beyond expressions of sympathy or calls for civility and niceness. Right now, we need some sustained spiritual reflection on how badly we have behaved in recent years as Americans--how much we’ve allowed fear to motivate our politics, how cruel we’ve allowed our discourse to become, how little we’ve listened, how much we’ve dehumanized public servants, how much we hate.

Sunday January 9 is the day on which many Christians celebrate the Baptism of Jesus: “When Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’” Jesus’ baptism in water symbolizes life, the newness that comes of cleansing. But there is a darker symbol of baptism in American history: that of blood. In 1862, Episcopal bishop Stephen Elliot of Georgia said, “All nations which come into existence… must be born amid the storm of revolution and must win their way to a place in history through the baptism of blood.” Baptism as water? Baptism as blood? Baptism accompanied by a dove or baptism accompanied by the storm of revolution?

American Christianity is deeply conflicted, caught between two powerful symbols of baptism, symbols that haunt our political sub-consciousness. To which baptism are we called? Which baptism does the world most need today? Which baptism truly heals? Do we need the water of God, or the blood of a nine-year old laying on a street in Tucson? The answer is profoundly and simply obvious. We need redemption gushing from the rivers of God’s love, not that of blood-soaked sidewalks. If we don’t speak for the soul, our silence will surely aid evil.

(Source: http://blog.beliefnet.com/christianityfortherestofus/2011/01/congresswoman-gabrielle-giffords-speaking-for-the-soul.html

There is a higher righteousness, a better way to live. And it is to live as completely as we can with God. It is to pursue peace even when others hate us, for this is what God pursues with us. It is to stand up for new life, to offer forgiveness, to refuse to be dragged down by the baser tendencies of fear and cruelty that tangle around our ankles. It is to live the life of love – and to point to its Living Source.

This is the righteousness that Jesus comes to fill to the brim, and the righteousness that he offers to every single one of us. It is the invitation to live with God, even in a world that seems to be knocked off its foundations. It is the refusal to live as one more of the devil’s thugs.

Here is one more word, from the prophet and poet Madeline L'Engle. She said, "We do not draw people to Christ by loudly discrediting what they believe, by telling them how wrong they are and how right we are, but by showing them a light that is so lovely that they want with all their hearts to know the source of it." (Walking on Water)

We live for the light, and we let it shine brightly. When we do, the heavens open, the Spirit comes upon us, and the Big Voice says, “With you, I am well pleased.”

(c) William G. Carter
All rights reserved

Little Lord Jesus

John 1:1-18
Christmas 2
January 2, 2011
William G. Carter

The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.

In most of the major art galleries of the world, you will find the Christmas story depicted in art. Every famous painter has taken a crack at the scene. Rembrandt paints the child bathed in light with his mother close by and the shepherds standing in the shadows. Peter Paul Rubens has the exotic magi appearing near people with rosy cheeks. Henry Ossawa Tanner shows the young mother Mary listening curiously to an angel that resembles a beam of light.

Whether these images appear on the familiar Christmas card or as a painted canvas in a great museum, the birth of Jesus has been celebrated in all of its glory and simplicity.

In the 1500’s, here is how many European painters approached the scene, particularly those from Italy and the Netherlands. They would depict the infant Jesus in the manger or in his mother’s arms. Around him stood the humble shepherds, the worshipful magi, perhaps the singing angels. Yet the child’s face was the face of an adult. Even if the baby Jesus was shown to be a few hours old, his face is mature, his countenance is wise, his eyes are focused, and his gaze is all-knowing.

Some would declare this to be a mixed message: the infant looks old. Ancient wisdom is revealed in a baby’s face. And we know what the artists are trying to do: they are trying as they might to portray the Incarnation. The eternal God comes to us as a human child. Power chooses vulnerability, weakness reveals wisdom. “The Word became flesh and lived among us,” sings the Gospel of John, “and we have seen his glory.”

Christmas presents us with this great paradox. In every age, people try to understand it, even if they end up shaving it down. We sing “Away in a Manger,” with each verse addressed to the Lord Jesus. Theologically that is exactly right. The child born to Mary is already the Ruler of the Universe. Yet the paradox is that the Ruler is a newborn male Jewish child; he is the Little Lord Jesus. And when the song declares “no crying he makes,” we don’t believe it. That was the heresy of Apollinarianism, the idea that Jesus was not completely human like the rest of us, and we dismissed that in 381 A.D.

It is our human tendency to make God’s Mystery smaller as a way of comprehending it. Maybe you noticed the Gospel of John does not explain the Incarnation. He sings it and just lets it be.

That’s hard for everybody to do. Some people like to keep the baby Jesus small and cuddly, and never let him grow up. When Charles Dickens portrays the Ghost of Christmas Past, he gives us a Perpetual Child. Some would similarly like to freeze the Lord Jesus in time.

Maybe you saw the scene in the movie “Talladega Nights.” Ricky Bobby, the famous NASCAR driver, gathers with his family at a table piled high with fast food. His wife shouts, “Supper’s ready! Come on, y’all. I’ve been slaving over this for hours.” With that, Ricky Bobby bows his head and leads the family in prayer:

“Dear Lord Baby Jesus, or as our brothers in the South call you, Ja-ee-sus, we thank you so much for this bountiful harvest of Domino’s, KFC, and the always-delicious Taco Bell. I just want to take time to thank you for my family, my two beautiful, handsome sons Walker and Texas Ranger, and of course my red hot smoking wife Carly. Dear Lord Baby Jesus, we also thank you for my wife’s father Chip, and we hope that you can use your Baby Jesus powers to heal him, Dear Tiny Infant Jesus.”

His wife interrupts the prayer to say, “Hey Sweetie, Jesus did grow up. You don’t always have to call him a baby. It’s a bit odd and off-putting to pray to a baby.” But Ricky Bobby fires back, “Look, I like the Christmas Jesus best and I’m saying grace. When you say grace, you can say it to Grownup Jesus or Teenage Jesus or Bearded Jesus or whoever you want.”

So he returns to his prayer: “Dear Tiny Jesus, in your golden fleece diapers with your tiny, fat, balled-up fists . . .” His father-in-law can’t hold back and blurts back, “He was a man! He had a beard!”

But Ricky Bobby won’t give in: “Look, I like the baby version the best, you hear me?” He resumes his prayer, “Dear eight-pound-six-ounce Baby Jesus, don’t even know a word yet, just a little infant, so cuddly – but still omnipotent. We’d just like to thank you for all the races I’ve won. And due to the binding endorsement contract that stipulates I mention PowerAde at each grace, I just want to say that PowerAde is delicious. Thank you for your power and grace, dear Baby God. Amen.”

Now, what would the writer of the Gospel of John have to say about that prayer? Assuming John would not skip the movie, he might give one thumb up for trying to hold the paradox: that the Christmas Child is the Lord of all. The Little One already has the power to set planets in their courses and to heal all that is broken.

But John would also give that prayer one thumb down simply for getting stuck – Jesus did grow up. In the words of the children’s carol we will sing, “Day by day, like us He grew.” In the Mystery of God’s self-restraint, we did not see all the powers all at once. The child lived a completely human life, growing for some thirty years in near-obscurity, until some people began to see him for who he was – and who he is. It was only then that we could look backwards and realize what we had missed all along – that God comes completely among us, and we did not see it.

In the lyrics of John’s great poem, “He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born…of God.”

Faith provides a birth within us, a birth that grows into new life. As Martin Luther preached creatively in one of his Christmas sermons,

Christ takes our birth from us and absorbs it in his birth, and grants us his (birth), that in it we might become pure and holy, as it were our own, so that every Christian may rejoice and glory in Christ’s birth as much as if he had himself been born of Mary as was Christ… This is the only way in which Christ can be rightly known so that the conscience is satisfied and made to rejoice…This is what is meant by Isaiah 9:6, “Unto us a Child is born, unto us a son is given,” to us, to us, to us is born, and to us is given this child . . . See to it that you make this birth your own and that Christ be born in you.

That’s what the Gospel of John is inviting us to claim. When faith in Christ takes birth within us, it grows. Just like the Baby Jesus. Faith starts small, just as small as a mustard seed, but then it grows and grows until it takes over. As Christ is born within us, his love heals our crippled spirits. His peace swallows up our divisions. His justice grows until it overwhelms the unfairness of the world. His truth increases until all things are claimed by his grace. Which is to say: Jesus Christ is the Lord of all.

As the prophet foretold, “His authority shall grow continually,” and wherever he is, “there shall be endless peace” (Isaiah 9:7). That’s how we truly know where Christ has been born in us . . . and where he is received in the world. It is where people live under his authority and dwell in his peace. He is just that important.

One of the hot Christmas gadgets this year is a GPS system for churches to use. Perhaps you have one of those GPS systems for your car. It helps you travel from one place to the next, and you always know where you are. Well, this particular GPS system doesn’t go in your car. No, no, no – it comes ready to be installed in the Baby Jesus in a church’s outdoor crèche scene.

It seems that a lot of churches put a crèche scene on the front lawn, but the Baby Jesus does not stay in their manger. Who knows where he goes? Late at night some people might drop by to borrow him, or they take him for a drive in the country. But if you get one of these special Christmas GPS units, you can track down the Baby Jesus and put him back in the manger. No one will wonder if he wanders. There’s a security firm in New Jersey that makes these GPS units available free for churches.

I called one of my minister buddies. He has a downtown church. They put out a crèche scene every year, and Jesus keeps disappearing. I said, “Hey, you can contact these people in Jersey and get one of these GPS gadgets. That way, you can make sure that your Baby Jesus never gets snatched away.”

My friend laughed. He said, “My Jesus is the Lord of the Universe. He has a lot to do. Why should I expect him to stay in the manger?”


(c) William G. Carter
All rights reserve

On the Feast of Stephen

Hebrews 2:10-18
Matthew 2:13-23
December 26, 2010
Christmas 1
William G. Carter

On the church’s calendar, December 26 is the Feast of Stephen. Stephen was one of the first deacons of the church. As you may remember from the book of Acts, he was one of the seven people appointed by the church to look in on the needs of the needy, particularly the widows and the poor. He was full of the Holy Spirit and very wise. And he quickly found himself defending the Good News of Christ from the very people who resisted the good news. Stephen became the first martyr of the church, and his Feast Day is a day to remember his faith, his good works, and the ultimate cost that he paid.

That may sound harsh, but we have already had demands placed put on us by the scripture texts. Matthew tells of what happened after the Wise Men departed the manger. King Herod tried to eliminate the newborn King, and Joseph had to take his young family to hide from their enemies. The letter to the Hebrews speaks of Jesus and his sufferings, but with the end that people will be redeemed. As the writer says, “Through death, he might destroy the one who has the power of death … and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by the fear of death.”

Today is the Feast of Stephen, when we live Christmas forward and reflect on what the birth of Christ requires of us. There is a grand old Christmas carol that will guide our sermon time. It is rooted on the Feast of Stephen, and you will find it printed on the first page of the worship bulletin. Let’s join together and sing the first verse:

Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the feast of Stephen
When the snow lay round about
Deep and crisp and even
Brightly shone the moon that night
Though the frost was cruel
When a poor man came in sight
Gath'ring winter fuel

Wenceslas was born in 907 AD. He was the Duke of Bohemia, and not actually a King. There were nine or ten famous rulers named Wenceslas. Some of them were Slavic kings, but the Wenceslaus in our carol was the earliest of the bunch.

His father was a Christian, but his mother was opposed to Christianity. After Wenceslas’ father died when the boy was thirteen, he was taken by his grandmother and raised as a Christian. His mother was furious about the influence that the grandmother had on Wenceslas, so she arranged to have her murdered when Wenceslas was 14. This, of course, did not endear the boy to his mother, and he continued to pursue his studies of the Christian faith.

About four years later, Wenceslas assumed the throne. One of his first acts was to exile his mother and send her out of the country. He pursued his grandmother’s desire to spread the Gospel among the Slavic people. Today he is honored with a statue on the Charles Bridge in Prague. Wenceslas was a stern but fair ruler. He was widely known for his kindness to the poor, and that what we celebrate in the next three stanzas of the Christmas carol. It is a conversation between the good king and his page – and we will hear them now sing that conversation to one another.

"Hither, page, and stand by me / If thou know'st it, telling
Yonder peasant, who is he? / Where and what his dwelling?"
"Sire, he lives a good league hence / Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence / By Saint Agnes' fountain."

"Bring me flesh and bring me wine / Bring me pine logs hither
Thou and I will see him dine / When we bear him thither."
Page and monarch forth they went / Forth they went together
Through the rude wind's wild lament / And the bitter weather

"Sire, the night is darker now / And the wind blows stronger
Fails my heart, I know not how, / I can go no longer."
"Mark my footsteps, my good page / Tread thou in them boldly
Thou shalt find the winter's rage / Freeze thy blood less coldly."

The good saints like Wenceslaus and Stephen invite us to walk in their footsteps. That is why we remember them, mark their lives, and follow their example. The Christmas carol teaches us to care for those who are half-frozen and poor. This is what Wenceslas did. It is what we are called upon to do.

It isn’t easy. Duke Wenceslas discovered that his worst enemy was his own brother Boleslav. He took part in an assassination plot that was organized by rival politicians. In the year 935, Boleslav invited his brother to a religious festival, and then attacked him on the way to worship in the church. Wenceslas was killed when he was 28 years old. His brother soon regretted his own actions. Boleslav pledged to raise his son as a Christian and dedicate him to the priesthood.

Meanwhile, Wenceslas continued to influence the Christian people in Bohemia even after his death. Having died a martyr’s death, he was quickly named a saint of the church. There were numerous legends about good works that were done in his name. Today he is regarded as the patron saint of the Czech Republic. There’s a special legend that even the places where his foot touched down are marked by the warmth of his love. We will walk in his footsteps as we remember his concern for the poor and follow his generous example.

So let us join together in singing the final verse of the carol. Therein lies today’s lesson:

In his master's steps he trod / Where the snow lay dinted
Heat was in the very sod / Which the Saint had printed
Therefore, Christian men, be sure / Wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now will bless the poor / Shall yourselves find blessing.

Merry Christmas!

(c) William G. Carter
All rights reserved

It’s For Other People

Luke 2:8-20
Christmas Eve
December 24, 2010
William G. Carter

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see — I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord."

It was one of those holiday scenes that happen all the time, but is quickly missed. A family of four emerged from the shopping mall, their arms burdened with packages. They were tired but jubilant. Clearly they had everything they wanted. As they come out the door, they pass by a guy in a Santa hat, standing by a red kettle and chiming a bell.

The seven year old son stops in his tracks, turns and looks. His parents pause to retrieve him. The Santa with the bell asks, “Do you wish to help the poor?” The boy nods, but his father has other ideas. “Come on,” he says, “let’s go,” and tugs on the kid’s sleeve.

But suddenly, about ten steps away, the boy breaks free and returns. Fishing down deep in his pocket, he finds two coins and drops them in the kettle. Then he explains to his confused and impatient family, “Christmas is for other people, too.”

I suppose this is hard for us to see. We have been well-trained to believe Christmas is about us: that it is about our wish lists, our families, our decorations and customs. There are Currier and Ives pictures of the perfect Christmas engraved on our minds. We would like to have our loved ones around our tables eating our food and enjoying our generosity. It is hard to think about anybody else.

The other day, I hopped on the shoppers’ bus to Manhattan with one of my daughters. On Times Square, the red kettles were everywhere, attended by jolly elves who sang along with canned music. It some sight to see battery-powered karaoke machines with the imprint, “Property of the Salvation Army.” Most of the tourists passed them by, making their way to visit Macy’s or to catch a show. They were in the city to spend money, not share it. Each little flock trudged along in isolation and indifference.

It is hard to think that Christmas is for other people, too. We are told to indulge ourselves. In one high-end boutique on Fifth Avenue, I spied a nice blue dress shirt. The sign said, “40% off.” So I sneaked a peek at the tag – normal cost for one shirt is $295. Even with the holiday discount, I decided to pass; it was combed cotton, and I would probably shrink it the first time I washed it. As we stepped outside, just a few paces away a blind saxophonist blowing, “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas.” Somehow I felt compelled to throw five bucks in his instrument case. After all, it is Christmas. Christmas is not for me alone – it’s for him, too.

It is hard to keep this clear, but this is the essence of the story. Jesus is born in a little town with a distant memory and a murky future. The Caesar of that time, Caesar Augustus, had sent armies to occupy the region. Then he decided to tax the occupants so there were funds to pay for his armies. The local authorities set up a system to register each family in their home town, and that’s how Joseph brought his pregnant Mary to Bethlehem. Her son is born in the shadows of a greedy empire.

The news of the birth is announced to shepherds who work the land. We don’t know their names. Apparently they weren’t significant enough to be included in the census. But angels sing the news to them – and nobody else. It is “good news of a great joy for all the people.” For all the people. This little baby is going to rescue people from their isolation. He is going to save them from their indifference. He will heal them from the ways that their own selfishness has broken them.

It is good news for a shepherd. In that time, the city folk considered the sheep-keepers as thieves. They let their flocks graze on lands that were not their own. Even the religious elite decreed that all shepherds were sinners, not permitted to enter the Jerusalem temple until they atoned for every blade of grass that their animals stole from their neighbors. This is, after all, what religious people when they have a lot of time on their hands: they cook up religious rules to separate themselves from the commoners with dirty fingernails.

But the angels sing to the shepherds: “Unto you is born a Savior.” Unto all of you. This is “good news of a great joy for all the people.”

You see, God is on a mission to save the world. That is what Christmas is about. That is why the angels are singing. It is not because the C.E.O. of H. J. Heinz just got an 8.6 million dollar bonus this year. No, it is because God believes that other people matter, too. That God makes each human being with inestimable value. There is peace on earth among those whom God loves – provided, of course, that they share the love. It is the sharing of love that makes it real.

This is what the child Jesus will grow up to teach and exemplify. He gives himself to the world – and commands us to give ourselves to our neighbors. Forgive one another. Share what you have. Feed the hungry. Take care of the weak. Heal what is broken. And never give in to fear.

The fact is there is a lot of fear out there. It can tempt us to hunker down and insulate ourselves. But the angels come and dismiss the gloom of night. Unto you – all of you! A great joy for all the people! For other people. If Christmas this year is sad and dark, it could be because it has become all about you, and not yet about other people. Joy comes by stepping out of ourselves – and giving ourselves to the needs of others.

If we cannot hear the angels, we can listen to Stephen Colbert. About a week ago, with deep irony, he took on the Grinch, Ebenezer Scrooge, and a few self-righteous Christians, and he said, “If this is going to be a Christian nation that doesn't help the poor, either we have to pretend that Jesus is just as selfish as we are or we've got to acknowledge that he commanded us to love the poor and serve the needy without condition ... and then admit that we just don't want to do it." (December 16, 2010)

At the heart of the Gospel is God’s generosity. In the birth of Jesus, God comes for everybody. Christmas is not a private possession of self-absorbed people. Christmas is not the hoarded gift of a frightened church. Christmas is God’s gift to the world, wrapped in swaddling clothes and embodied in Jesus. It is found among people who are learning to cherish one another … to the glory of God.

One of my teachers told me about a missionary to China. His name was Oswald Golter, and he served in China in the 1940’s. He was an agricultural missionary and taught people how to raise crops. When the Communists came, they forced him to leave. So his supporters in America wired him a ticket, and told him to make his way to India to catch a ship home. When he arrived in India, he discovered many Jews were there in dismal poverty. They landed in India because India was one of the few countries in the world that welcomed the Jews after Hitler expelled them from Europe.

Dr. Golter was glad to see them. It was Christmas time and he said, “Merry Christmas!" They said, “But we are Jews.”

“Oh, I know, but Merry Christmas anyway. What would you like for Christmas?” They said, “But we are Jews.”

He said, “Oh, I know. But is there anything you wish you could have for Christmas?” They thought about it and said, “We wish we could taste again some fine German pastries.”

Dr. Golter went all over that city in India and found a shop that sold fine German pastries. He cashed in his ticket home and bought boxes and boxes of pastries. Then he delivered them to the barns and the attics and the sheds where those Jewish people were living and said, “Merry Christmas!” Then he wrote home and said, “Send me another ticket.”

Years later, he told that story to a group of preachers. One of them stood up, his fists clenched, and said, “Why did you do that? Those people aren’t Christians. They don’t believe in Jesus Christ!" Dr. Golter said, "But I do!" (Thanks to Fred Craddock for the story.)

Christmas is for other people, too. Joy to the world … the whole world … your neighbor’s world.

(c) William G. Carter
All rights reserved

Three Reasons Why We Shouldn’t Listen to Angels

Matthew 1:18-25
Advent 4
December 19, 2010
William G. Carter

But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”

Christmas is just under a week away. The trees are decorated. The candles are lit. The carols ring out. And the angels have come. You can’t have Christmas without angels.

The angels are God’s announcers. They stand between us and the Holy of Holies, and they speak on behalf of God. Without the angels making their announcement, Christmas would be just another peasant birth. All anybody would know is that a mother gave birth to her first-born son. But then the angel speaks and we learn a good bit more about the baby.

Angels can look like us. Mark tells of an empty tomb and says, “There was young man.” He sat among the tombs and said “Why are you looking for the living around here?” Strange question from a young man. The book of Genesis says two angels went to visit a man named Lot. He received them as human visitors and gave them something to eat. In the New Testament letter to the Hebrews, the preacher says, “Some have entertained angels without knowing it.” We have every reason to think that some might be among us.

Yet the Bible is also clear: angels are not like us. Angels are not human. They belong to a different order of God’s creatures. They don’t seem bound to time and space like the rest of us. In Bible stories, they have the ability to appear and disappear. Today we learn that angels even can infiltrate our dreams. And they have the ability to terrify mere mortals. The most common response to an angel is fear, which is why most angels begin their speeches by saying, “Don’t be afraid.” And most of the time, it might not do any good. Fear does not evaporate by somebody saying, “Stop fearing.”

So today, I thought what I would do is mention three good reasons why it is risky to listen to angels. That’s what lies beneath of the Gospel lesson. Our text is Joseph’s version of the Christmas story. It is one of the few places where we actually hear something about the carpenter. It offers a three-fold warning why we have to be careful about listening to angels.

Here is the first reason: angels interrupt us. When an angel speaks, your life is going to be interrupted.

Consider Joseph. His life was going in a straight line. He had a calling as a carpenter. It was a highly regarded trade in every village. He was engaged to Mary, and probably had been engaged for a while. Quite possibly it was an arranged marriage, an agreement between two families that the local carpenter’s son would later marry a much younger daughter of the other family. If that doesn’t sound very romantic to you, there are imaginary novels you can read and movies you can watch. But the plain truth is that these were people who lived close to the soil, people whose customs were long-established, people who knew one another and lived quite close to one another. They were not strangers who met in a far-off college town. Their families were deeply invested in their mutual future within that marriage.

But then the news comes: Mary is pregnant. The child is not Joseph’s. Just when Joseph thought he knew what to do, the angel speaks in the middle of a dream. “She will bear a son,” said the angel, “and the child comes from the Holy Spirit.”

I’m sure the angel thought that was an impressive message, and to us, centuries later, it is significant in every way. But it is a disruptive announcement and hard to take at face value.

Technically speaking, every child comes from God. Each baby is a holy gift. What the angel is saying is that Joseph is unnecessary. For the child to be conceived, Joseph is not needed. On the one hand, that is an insult on his masculinity. On the other hand, God is insisting that this particular child must be born.

It is an awkward moment. If Joseph had dreamed of a perfect life, now people will perpetually whisper about him and his lady. If he had hoped for a spotless reputation, now everybody in the village will murmur that Mary and Joseph started the honeymoon a bit early. Life will be interrupted by a child. Even if the child is expected, planned, and wanted, it will be an interruption.

Just watch what happens when a young couple announces their first pregnancy. More experienced parents circle around in celebration. Congratulations float in the air. Then the old duffers turn away, wink at one another, and smile knowingly. It is a grand conspiracy of silence, and the old duffers are overheard to say, “Aren’t we glad to be through all of that?”

Two Clarks Summit professionals announced her first child was on the way. It happened exactly on their schedule. “Everything is going our way,” they exclaimed. There were lulled into thinking that the planets circled around them. And when the baby arrived, it was a new reality. That baby took a lot of work. Strange hours. Yucky-looking food. Disgusting diapers. Inconvenient illnesses. Extra expenses. Guilt that they weren’t present enough. And then the day after the mother went back to work, she was scheduled to make a presentation before the top management. She reached into the pocket of her blazer to pull out a baggie of mildewed Cheerios.

“Joseph,” said the angel, “Mary is pregnant. The Holy Spirit is giving her a baby.” The announcement came early. Joseph was not ready for it. God spoke through the angel and interrupted everything he wanted and expected. If you wish to live a perfect, calculated life, safe from every act of God, I would recommend that you pay no attention to angels.

That brings us to a second warning: be careful of listening to angels, because angels push us off the page.

The Bible offers a long record of how God gets involved in people’s lives. There are plenty of stories about unexpected pregnancies. In her old age, Sarah gives birth to Isaac. In her barrenness, Rachel is surprised with a son. In her disgrace, Hannah makes a deal to hand over to God her first-born son, if only God gives her that child. And ancient Elizabeth discovers her old husband Zechariah, a temple priest near the end of his career, finally has the ability to produce a child.

In this sense, Mary is in a venerable Biblical tradition of God’s surprising birth announcements. But she is also different – for she and Joseph are not yet married. The Bible had words about that situation, as well. What does the Bible say? It says Deuteronomy 22: “She is to be taken out and stoned to death in front of the people.” Any question? That is the rule, when a man discovers his fiancée is pregnant by somebody other than him.

For a lot of people, clear rules give great comfort. Everything is fixed and settled. Nothing is left for discussion or debate. Just open the book and follow the rules . . . except that we have a clue here that Joseph is struggling to merely follow the rules. Matthew tells us a few things about him. Joseph is a tzadik – a “righteous man.” That means he takes the scriptures seriously. But we are also told he is “unwilling to expose Mary to public disgrace” and “planned to dismiss her quietly.” That is, he is going to take a softer, more compassionate approach to the ancient rules of Deuteronomy.

But then the angel speaks and says, “Joseph, take Mary as your wife.” Even though the rule in the Bible said, “Get rid of her,” there is a higher authority than the rules. And that is the authority of the One who makes the rules.

Now, this is hard for a lot of people to understand. They read the Bible. They find direction and purpose for their lives. They trust that the world is ordered in the ways that the Bible describes. They love the commandments: “No idolatry,” “No murder,” “No coveting.” No – no – no. But then something happens, something indescribable, something spiritual – and it scares them because it’s not on the page.

It came up often in the ministry of Jesus. The Bible said, “Don’t touch a leper” – and Jesus touched a leper and healed him. The Bible said, “Don’t associate with sinners” – and Jesus invited himself to share meals with them. The Bible said, “Stop work on the Sabbath” – and Jesus labored tirelessly to preach, teach, and heal on the Sabbath. Maybe he picked up this attitude from Joseph and how Joseph treated his own mother.

As somebody notes,

“Joseph is a good man… He loves his Bible and he knows his Bible... But he reads his Bible through a certain kind of lens, the lens of the character and nature of a God who is loving and kind. Therefore he says, “I will not harm her, abuse her, expose her, shame her, ridicule her, or demean her value, her dignity, or her worth. I will protect her.” Where does it say that, Joseph? It says that in the very nature and character of God.”

He was leaning in this direction, because he was a good man. But the angel appeared in his dream and pushed his compassion even further. That is to say, if you prefer a flat obedience, a life of inflexible rules, be cautious of listening to an angel.

This brings us to the third warning: Be wary of listening to an angel, because angels call us to make commitments and keep them.

Now, I wish to sift out any casual notions that Joseph was merely being a nice guy. We have been trained to think of him as a benevolent character on the front of a Christmas card, standing silently. No, the call of God upon his life was greater than that. He was interrupted by the announcement of a baby that was not his. His view of scripture and the moral law was filtered by the love and compassion of God. Now the angel invites him to keep his engagement, to stand by his betrothed, to forgive the intrusion of God upon her womb, and to raise Mary’s child as if it is his own.

I cannot imagine anything more difficult. I have known plenty of people who prefer a lofty aesthetic, an ambiguous piety. They talk about faith in general. They discuss endlessly this idea and that. They love the decorations of Christmas, the poinsettias, the perfumed music, the high drama, the beautiful art. But ask them to pin it down and they disappear.

The angel says, “Take Mary as your wife. Take her child as your own.” Do you know what that means? It means to dig in where you are. Trust the love you have for others. Take care of the persons God has put in your life. Welcome them as holy gifts, in all their specificity – even if it means handling dirty diapers, consoling those who cry in the night, and committing all your resources for their food and safety.

There’s a woman I know. She gave birth to two boys of her own. When they were mostly raised, she agreed to take in a foster child, an infant. She fed the baby, held her close, asked her sons not feel jealous. She has since taken in a number of foster children, all of them infants, many with profound needs. Most of them, she handed back to their parents when the time was right. She has cared for those, and begun their lives by surrounding them with the care and attention they needed. “It’s what I had to do,” she said. “And with each one, my ability to love grows even greater.”

The angel said to Joseph, “Raise the child as your own.” Take care of him. Give him a home. Instruct him in the carpenter shop. Teach him how to love God. These were the specifics of his assignment.

Today I think of Joseph. He could have lived the insulated life, the inflexible obedience, the ambiguous piety. He might have coasted along for years, uninterrupted and unaffected. Instead he listened to an angel who spoke to him in a dream, and he took Mary for his wife. He made a home for an unexpected baby named Emmanuel, God-with-us. It turned his future upside-down. Ours too.

I’m OK with that. How about you?


(c) William G. Carter
All rights reserved