Isaiah 45: 1-3
Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23

Today, the liturgical calendar tells us is the celebration of Jesus’ baptism. When he came down to the river and was baptized by John. The church traditionally regards this act as the beginning of Jesus ministry. A lot of time has passed between his birth which we celebrated just a few weeks ago and now. It’s worth asking, what happened in the meantime. How did Jesus get from the stable to the river?

Many years ago, when my granddaughter Olivia was a toddler, she had one of the Little People nativity sets, plastic figures, plastic barn, plastic hay.. When we arrived for Christmas that year she was very excited to show it to us. First the lambs and cows and angels which were high on her list of importance, then shepherds and magi and finally, the stars of the show…Mary, the baby and..Uncle Joe!

No one knows how she came up with that, but Uncle Joe he was. I like to think that maybe she had figured out what for centuries scholars and preachers have been trying to determine. “Let’s see,” she might have wondered, “my daddy and mommy told me that God is Jesus’ father, so this guy who is always hanging around, a bit on the sidelines and not doing a whole lot, well, he must be the uncle. So Uncle Joe he was!

It’s not a bad solution, but, probably in the long run, not correct. Then who is he? Who is this loyal devoted man? Someone said once, and I believe it was the Swiss child psychiatrist Alice Miller, “that if Jesus had not had Joseph for a father, he would never have grown up to be the man he was.”
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“Do not be afraid.” It is the Advent angel refrain.

In the gospel of Matthew, an Angel comes to Joseph in a dream, saying “do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife” (Mt 1:20). In the gospel of Luke, angels arrive three times. One comes to Zechariah, father of John the Baptist, saying: “Do not be afraid; your prayer has been heard” (Lk 1:13). One comes to Mary, saying: “Do not be afraid; you have found favor with God” (Lk 1:30). One comes to the shepherds, watching their flocks at night: “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people” (Lk 2:10).

The people in these stories are full of fear. They are afraid that God has abandoned them in their time of need. They are afraid of social rejection because of an unplanned pregnancy. They are afraid of the angels, and the shining glory of God.

But the angels of Advent say “do not be afraid” and the prophet Isaiah joins in the chorus: “Surely God is my salvation; I will trust, and will not be afraid, for the Lord God is my strength and my might… with joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation” (Is 12:3)

Do not be afraid. It’s a message we need in this season, because there is plenty to be afraid of.  What are you afraid of?

We have personal fears: loss, loneliness, aging, death, cancer, addiction, mental illness. We have collective fears: fear of the stranger and the refugee and fear of what our character will become if we fail to welcome them; fear of gun violence and the gun lobby; fear of the insidious power of institutionalized racism; fears about the integrity of those who are campaigning to become our highest ranking public servant; fears about climate change.

It’s not wrong to be afraid. We’re afraid because we’re paying attention. Fear might actually be a sign of sanity. It’s a sign that our minds are still willing to notice, our hearts are still willing to care.

We’re afraid because we’re paying attention. So what do we do with this Advent refrain, “Do not be afraid”? (more…)

Luke Chapters 1&3

Last winter, it snowed. A lot. Do you remember? Snow had fallen, snow on snow, as it says in the Christmas carol. So we shoveled. And then we shoveled more snow on top of our shoveling. And then we shoveled still another batch of snow on top of the shoveling on top of the shoveling. By the end of the winter, our backs were sore, and our patience wore thin. There were mountains of snow everywhere, and no place to put the new snow that kept falling.

It’s hard to get through deep snow on foot. But we didn’t have any other options if we wanted to go outside at all. My family definitely wanted to get outside, so when we ventured out we walked in a line. One person went in front, breaking through the snow with their boots. That made it easier for everyone who walked behind them, because we could see where to put our feet. The mountains of snow were packed down for us in convenient foot shapes.

During Advent, we remember John the Baptist, that other baby in the beginning of Luke’s Gospel. As his father Zechariah predicts, John becomes a prophet – someone who tells the truth about God. The truth that John tells prepares everyone for Jesus. John calls the people to repent – to change, to turn back from their mistakes. And he offers the people baptism: a washing with water that makes way for a new relationship with God.

Imagine that all of the people who needed Jesus were stuck in a snowstorm. John is the one who walks at the front of the line, stomping down all the deep snow so that Jesus has a way to the people, and they have a way to Jesus. John prepares a path through anything and everything that has piled up, blocking the way between the people’s hearts and Jesus, Emmanuel, God-with-us, the Prince of Peace.

The people back then needed John, and we need him now. We need John, most of us. John wasn’t the best looking guy. He wore strange clothes and ate strange things and when that sweet little baby boy grew up, he had a mouth on him. But even though John was a PR disaster, God gave John an important job to do: smoothing a path between us and Jesus. John did it two thousand years ago, and he’s still doing it today.

What’s in the way for you, this season? What is between you and Jesus? Maybe it’s the insanity of this season: the obligations and preparations that we and our friends and families choose to burden ourselves with. Maybe it’s personal loneliness or loss or anger. Maybe it’s despair over the tragedies going on in our world.

For many of us, snow has fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow on snow. We dig ourselves out, and then it just keeps on coming. We need a helper. We need a vanguard. We need someone, smelly and strident and strong enough to make a path, to make a way, to tamp down some footprints in the snow for us to follow.

John comes this season, offering us new life through the gift of baptism, as we baptize Juliana this morning; and reminding us of those glorious ancient words of promise from Isaiah: Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low; the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.

I invite you to think of who is making a way for you this season.  It may be a family member, or a friend, or a fellow church member.  It may be a poet or musician from long ago, or another saint in the heavenly host.  Write them a note; give them a call; take them aside and say “thank you;” or simply say “thank you” to God for them.

God, thank you for making rough ways smooth, for making valleys high and mountains low, for making a way out of no way. Thank you for all the way-makers you have sent to help us, and for helping us to make a way for others. Amen.

Jeremiah 33:14-16
Luke 21:25-36

It’s exciting each year — at least for pastors — to turn from the long stretch of ordinary time that fills the summer and fall and begin a new church year with the season of Advent, the season of preparation for Christmas. Just days after most of us celebrate Thanksgiving, another holiday season begins. We add wreaths to the doors, and put candles on the table, and begin singing Advent carols.

But what are these scriptures that we hear this week? They’re not quite in keeping with the mood of the moment. Instead of setting the stage for a festive baby shower for Jesus, we hear confusing and frightening prophecies.

The prophet Jeremiah proclaims that a righteous branch will spring up. Someone will emerge from the royal lineage of David to rule the people Israel with justice.

And Jesus has his own prophecy. In the gospel of Luke, he instructs his followers to wait for his dramatic second coming at the end of all time. “Look at the fig tree and all the trees,” Jesus says; “as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near.”

Here we are, this morning, at the beginning of Advent, eager for a holiday. But the scriptures do not cooperate. They speak of a harsher world, and a deeper hope than we may be ready for: great promises not yet fully realized. (more…)

Member and Youth Director Joyce DeGreeff offered this sermon on November 15th.

1 Samuel 1:4-20
Mark 13:1-8

One of the things I love about my part-time work at Northeastern University is the near hour-long car ride all by myself because it gives me a rare chance to either sit in silence OR to listen to NPR uninterrupted. Recently, on my drive into Boston, I caught an episode of “Here and Now” in which a British woman named Sarah Outen was being interviewed about her courageous journey around the world powered by her own energy. Over the course of more than four years, this woman had biked and kayaked 11,000 miles across Europe and Asia, spent 150 days alone at sea rowing between Japan and Alaska, kayaked 1500 miles through the Aleutian Islands, and finally crossed North America on her bicycle. Her final leg would be to row across the Atlantic Ocean back to England, but this plan was thwarted in early October when Hurricane Joaquin proved to be too much of a threat to her safety. Outen was eventually rescued by a passing cargo ship and her row boat “Happy Socks” was lost at sea.

In the interview, Sarah was asked what it was like rowing in such a small boat across the Atlantic ocean and given that she was all alone, were there any existential moments? You can find her full responses to these questions on line, where she describes how much she loves the ocean and all the strategies she used to keep her spirits up. But what most resonated with me was this:

She said:“You really feel every storm. You appreciate every good moment that counteracts the tougher moments in the weather that’s pushing you off course. … There are definitely frightening moments out there and really challenging moments, and moments where I think ‘I’d like the easy bit to happen now’ instead of going from one tough patch to another.’ However, it’s really beautiful and I’m very at ease with my own company.”

She then went on to explain how she wasn’t going to try the Atlantic Ocean again for logistical, financial, and emotional reasons but that she was going adjust her original plan and complete her journey with a mix of cycling and kayaking back to London, where she had started. The reporter’s final question was “How much will it nag at you that you made it two thirds across the Atlantic and had to stop?”

To this, Sarah replied: “It won’t nag at me. I did my best out there. Nature is always boss – I’m not going to argue that. So it’s out of my hands. I’ve learned to accept a lot of things on this journey that I can’t control. I’ve had a really enriching, enlightening, and challenging journey the whole way through, so for me it’s just part of the story now.” (more…)

Mark 12:28-34

Who is our neighbor?

Jesus says that the two greatest commandments are: love God with all that you are, and love your neighbor as yourself. Sometimes our work as a church is to expand our ideas of who is a neighbor, to find a way to love people who seem very far away, or very different from us. But this week I want to talk about a family from our actual church neighborhood. Many of you have heard the story already. It was on the cover of the Concord Journal this week.

The Cole family lives two short blocks away from this building. They are a family of two dads, one white, and one Asian; and two young kids, one black, and one Latino. The Coles recently put a Black Lives Matter sign up on the edge of their lawn. Soon afterwards, they received a letter from the town Building Commissioner. An anonymous complaint had been submitted through an attorney because the sign violated zoning bylaws.

Now, the sign did violate zoning bylaws. As soon as they understood this, the Cole family moved the sign to a different part of their yard. It’s impossible to know what motivated the individual who contacted the town. However, the Cole family couldn’t help but notice all the other signs up around town that were also violating zoning bylaws. They couldn’t help but wonder if these other signs had generated the same level of attention. And so they shared their story, inviting the individual who filed the complaint to sit down and talk if they wanted to learn more about why the Black Lives Matter sign was so important to their family.

Our neighbors. Our neighborhood.

The hashtag #BlackLivesMatter was started by three women as a call to action after the death of Trayvon Martin. Their names are Alicia Garza, Opal Tometi, and Patrisse Cullors. These three women then helped transform the hashtag into a movement that has included protests and national networking. In their words, “Black Lives Matter is an ideological and political intervention in a world where Black lives are systematically and intentionally targeted for demise. It is an affirmation of Black folks’ contributions to this society, our humanity, and our resilience in the face of deadly oppression.” You can learn more about the movement’s origin, and its values, on the website.

The Black Lives Matter movement is hardly without controversy. Many have misunderstood the meaning of the slogan, thinking that it means “Black lives matter more” instead of “Black lives matter also.” Some take issue with the fact that Black Lives Matter protestors have disrupted political rallies. And it is important to note that individuals and organizations have used or altered the hashtag without honoring its origins or intentions.

Here is why the Coles put up a Black Lives Matter sign, in their own words: “Certainly, we wanted to draw attention and show support for black people being killed in our country at alarming rates, but we also wanted to prove to our children – and by extension our neighbors…that equality is something that matters to us. It’s not enough just to expect equality, and sometimes it’s not even enough to just work for it. We need to demand it.”

Our neighbors. Our neighborhood. (more…)

Acts Ch. 2-4

What does the Spirit do?

When we meet followers of Jesus in the beginning of the book of Acts, they are so afraid that they aren’t doing anything. They have a great story to tell – the Easter morning resurrection glory halleluiah story – but they are afraid to tell it. They have amazing ministry to do – powerful, healing, life-altering, mind-bending ministry– but they are afraid to do it. All the people who knew Jesus the best and loved Jesus the most are sitting around in locked rooms, twiddling their thumbs and biting their nails. They are too afraid to do anything at all.

We would be afraid, too. We would be afraid to say anything about Jesus, or do anything in Jesus’ name. Jesus had a lot of enemies. He did surprising things and gathered a lot of followers. These were not twitter followers, or facebook friends, but something even more amazing: real people who physically followed him around and waited to see what he would do next. The leaders of the people decided that Jesus meant trouble; so they handed him over to the Romans. The Romans asked the crowds what to do with Jesus; and the crowds decided that Jesus meant trouble; so they handed him back to the Romans. In the end, the Romans decided Jesus meant trouble, and Jesus ended up dead.

It wouldn’t make you want to walk around Jerusalem with a pin that says, “I heart Jesus.” The followers of Jesus are afraid of their friends. They are afraid of their leaders. They are afraid of the Romans. They are afraid for their lives. So afraid, that they’re not doing anything at all.

Have you ever been afraid? So afraid you couldn’t do the right thing? So afraid, you couldn’t do anything at all? (more…)

Mark 2:13-17

Who is Jesus here for? This question comes up often in the gospels. In this morning’s passage, we get an answer straight from the man himself.

Jesus has returned from a preaching tour. He’s back in Capernaum, the town on the northern shore of the Sea of Galilee that is the center of his public ministry. Jesus goes out to his favorite spot on the beach. He begins to teach the old familiar folks, and the great crowds of strangers who have travelled many miles to listen. But Mark doesn’t tell us what Jesus has to say to any of these people. All we hear is his two-word sermon to a seaside tax collector named Levi. “Follow me,” Jesus says.

Later, we find Jesus eating at Levi’s house. I guess the newest disciple each day gets to take Jesus home to dinner. Levi has invited all his tax collector friends, people known for corruption and graft. Lots of other people with bad reputations have shown up, too. Jesus sits down to eat with all of them: not just your garden variety liars and cheaters, but a whole group of notorious sinners.

Of course, word gets around about how Jesus has been spending his evenings. The leaders of the people ask, “Why is Jesus eating with tax collectors and sinners?” (He’s a rabbi, right? He’s supposed to be a role model?) Jesus explains himself this way: “Those who are well have no need of a doctor, but those who are sick. I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.”

Who is Jesus here for? He is here for everyone who wants to hear what he has to say. For all of the people who gather to hear him teach, back then and now. But Jesus gives precedence to the folks who need him the most. He saves his evenings for notorious sinners.

Jesus explained this two thousand years ago, and it got recorded in one of the most printed books in the world. “I’m here for the sinners!” Jesus said. But we still seem to have missed the message. Many folks think that church-going people are holier than everyone else. And other folks think that church-going people are hypocrites, because it’s clear that we aren’t holier than anyone else – we’re at least as bad, maybe worse. But according to Jesus, it’s the troubled people he wants to spend the most time with. St. Augustine said: the church is a hospital for sinners. The church of Jesus is here for those of us who find ourselves spiritually sick, who need Jesus medicine in order to get well. (more…)

WCUC member Rev. Polly Jenkins Man offered this sermon on October 18th.

Job 38:1-7, 34-41
Luke 15:25-32

Why Job? Why choose Job for my text today since the lectionary provides several good other choices, among them a psalm of praise, a letter of instruction, a discussion between Jesus and his disciples? Why settle on one of the most perplexing, challenging books of the Bible? The answer is that it’s more like Job chose me. Since my first class in a college biblical literature class, followed by Archibald McLeish ‘s play, J.B., and finally in a term paper on Job in theological school in which, with the supreme overconfidence of a fledgling seminarian, I tackled Carl Jung’s essay, Answer to Job, Job has intrigued me. So it seems that Job is not done with me.

The story of Job begins when Yahweh asks Satan, who has been wandering around the earth, “Have you considered my servant Job, a blameless and upright man who fears God and resists evil?

Satan replies, “Sure, I know Job. He’s rich, has a great family, a bunch of goats and lots of land. Why wouldn’t he be blameless and upright. He’s got it all. But…BUT…what if he had nothing, what if all that disappeared, what then? HA! HA! He’d curse you to your face.”
God accepts the challenge. “All right, Satan, do what you will; only do not let him die.” God makes a bet with Satan; that’s a fairly shocking thing for God to do. What are we to make of this God? (more…)

Genesis 2:4-25

At the end of the book of Deuteronomy, Moses and the Israelites are nearing the goal of their long journey up out of slavery in Egypt. They are on the brink of the promised land. And then God says to Moses: “Your time to die is near… Soon you will lay down with your ancestors.”

No one panics. Instead, plans are put into place. Joshua is commissioned to succeed Moses in leading the people. Moses finishes the work of recording God’s law. When everything has been completed, God sends Moses up onto Mount Nebo, where he can see the promised land of Canaan. It is on this mountain, God tells him, that he will die and be gathered to his kin.

When Moses goes up to die on Mount Nebo, he is one hundred and twenty years old. Our scriptures say that his sight is unimpaired and his vigor has not abated. The Israelites weep for Moses for thirty days; then they continue on their journey.

We could feel sorry for Moses. After all, his life’s goal is not realized. After forty years of leading his people through the wilderness, he never gets to feel the promised land under his feet. But Moses has a good life, and a good death.

A good life, and a good death. Moses is rescued as a baby from the threat of Pharoah. He is chosen to lead his people on a freedom quest. He sees God face to face. Moses lives for 120 years with great eyesight and full vigor. And then — God tells him when it is time to die, and where and how to do it. There is time to prepare, and then, quickly, it is all over. His people have the opportunity to grieve, and they move on with their lives, treasuring his memory.

Notice what is missing from this story. No one seems surprised or outraged that Moses’ time has come. There’s no hand wringing over the best thing to do for him. There’s no long decline, no doctor’s visits, no doctor’s bills. There aren’t any 911 calls, hospital stays, or nursing homes. Moses has a good life, and a good death. I don’t feel sorry for him. (more…)