We The People of God Ash Wednesday 2026

 

Ash Wednesday 2026

Nearly everything in our lessons and in the Ash Wednesday liturgy addresses the fact that a rupture has occurred in the relationship between God and the people. A relationship grounded in a covenant – a series of promises on just how we are to relate to one another in this world God has created to sustain creatures like us. This rupture is corporate in nature – that is, God is not at all like Santa Clause keeping track of every single one of us as to whether or not we are naughty or nice. God sees a bigger picture, a more serious situation. Thus, we hear the prophet Joel and the psalmist who wrote Psalm 103 declaring that it is time, once again, to sound a trumpet, to call the entire Community of God’s Love together to once again acknowledge that we are not doing such a terrific job loving one another as Christ loves us. Everyone is to assemble, from the wisest of elders to children still at their mother’s breast. It is time to review the nature of covenant and our responsibilities to one another, to total strangers, and to those passing through or seeking refuge in our land to escape life elsewhere, having heard what an extraordinary Community of Love the God of Jacob, aka Israel, has established. And the larger Community of Love his Son Jesus extended.

 

We don’t know much about Joel – there is no consensus as to when and where this Prophet-Poet lived. But we do know when Paul was traveling throughout the Middle East founding Communities of God’s Love. Paul, who had grown up and lived in the Community of the God of Jacob spent a lifetime extending that community to others – to Gentiles. People who were not descended from the tribes of Jacob, but people who yearned to live in a Community of God’s Love in a world that was otherwise dog-eat-dog, one more authoritarian despot after another stripping the resources of a conquered land, leaving the people helpless, desperate, and generally land-poor and over-taxed.

 

Writing to an early Christian Community of God’s Love in Corinth which had already become a rat’s-nest of factions who fought and scrapped at one another, and who treated strangers, aliens, and newcomers with disdain, if even that. To them Paul makes his plea: “We entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” That is, it is time to remember who we are and whose we are – a Community of God’s Love in Christ. We need to become more God-like once again. We need to become more Christ-like once again. We are only as strong and righteous as the least of those among us. For how we treat those who live at the very margins is how we show our love and respect for the God who is “merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love,” as Psalm 103 sings about our God, and by association God’s Beloved Son, and by further association, We the people of God. There is a rupture in this series of relationships, writes Paul, and it is time for reconciliation – it is time to put these relationships back together.

 

Which is what Jesus is really talking about in this day’s portion from the Sermon on the Mount: performative acts of piety like prayer, alms giving, and fasting, are not meant for public displays which only seek to cover up where we fail love our neighbors who are poor, naked, in debtor’s prison, hungry and thirsting for relief. Save all the performative piety for yourself, He says, and get back to being the Community of God’s Love that seeks to reach out beyond itself and its own needs and get involved in the life of those both in and beyond our community who are aching day-by-day for someone to reach out to relieve them and gather them into the Community of God’s Love.

 

The operant word for Ash Wednesday is “We.” The ashes are meant to remind us that “no man is an island,” we are all a part of a larger reality, a larger community that represents God’s intentions for this world. There are those who intentionally want to destroy such a Community of God’s Love. Ash Wednesday asks us: Do we accept our responsibilities as people of the Covenant? Or, do we side with those who wish to divide and destroy God’s Community of Love? Ash Wednesday issues a clarion call like that which was heard in the 1960s: Either you are on the bus or off the bus. Jesus issues that call every day. The Risen Christ each and every day means to sound the trumpet and call us to return. Not as individuals. That is Santa’s business. He calls us as constituent members of His Community of Love.

 

Earlier this week I ran across a prayer my father wrote for Layman’s Sunday in the church where I grew up, and in which he served as a Deacon and an Usher on Sundays. This was sixty-five years ago, 1961, and yet it sounds as if he is addressing the realities of life we face it today:

 

“We gather today, O Lord, to seek your help…Your wisdom and Your Love. We come to you as lay persons of our church, believing in it, working in it, and seeking to live a Christian life. And so, we pray for Guidance.

 

“As we stumble, help us to find Your path, that we may walk in it. Teach us Your ways that we will be better able to live with our family and fellow man. Teach us to pray, though cynics may mock us or deride us. Help us to understand and meet adversities that without warning may suddenly change our life. Keep us from panic in moments like these.

 

“Give us wisdom that we may reject foolish offers from men of perverted speech. Let us find lasting faith in the House of the God of Jacob.

 

“Remind us that faith is not just attending Church. Or, building a chapel of stone and mortar. That it is not just a group of committees and meetings, or singing or prayers. But that faith is a way of life to be lived each day in our houses, with our children, and with our friends.

 

“Since we are all frail, and easily turned by many distractions and temptations, remind us that Your teachings can be woven into our day-to-day business and commerce. Give us courage to say we are wrong when we are wrong. Give us firmness to do the right thing, although it may not be popular.

 

“Help us to show our children the wonders You have created around us, the beauties of the trees now changing their colors, the flowers bringing joy and comfort to ill ones for whom we offer special prayers today. Help us also to show our children the deep mysteries of the oceans and the challenge of the skies.

 

“And finally, O Lord, help us strengthen our faith, that we can preserve these beauties and protect them and our way of life from those seeking to destroy everything. This we ask in thy name. Amen.”

Everything Changes - Nothing Stays the Same Epiphany 3A

 

Everything Changes – Nothing Stays the Same

Matthew 4: 12-23 comes directly after the Three Episodes of Testing in the wilderness. John has been arrested. Jesus retreats from the region of Judea to Capernaum by the Sea of Galilee. As noted by the reference to Isaiah 9:1-4, the region of Galilee is majority gentile territory with some Israelite towns scattered throughout the region. For Matthew, this is another moment of Epiphany – the light of Christ, the light of the world, has arrived in a land “of deep darkness.” For Jesus, after forty days of testing his new vocation as God’s Beloved Son, sets off on a new mission: ‘From that time Jesus began to proclaim, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”’ No longer a carpenter’s son, he now represents the presence of God’s kingdom. (Matthew alone refers to “kingdom of heaven” to avoid using a name for God which by tradition is not pronounced out loud, because Matthew’s gospel believed to have been addressed primarily to Jewish communities of emerging followers of Christ. One might say he is no longer Jesus; he is now the Christ [the anointed one] of God.)

 

As the Buddha said centuries before Christ, “Everything changes – Nothing stays the same.” The Christ emerges from his forty-day retreat changed, and as an agent of change. It is a change of direction in the life of Jesus, and he invites others to be similarly changed to become citizens of his Father’s kingdom of heaven – his Father’s vision or dream for this world: “of a friendly world of friendly folk beneath a friendly sky,” as Howard Thurman, a Black mystic, preacher, and theologian, once described God’s good creation.

 

As he walks along the banks of the Sea of Galilee, Jesus runs into two sets of brothers: Simon and Andrew, and James and John the sons of Zebedee. They are fisherman. Fishing was a primary vocation in the gentile region of Galilee. Simon and Andrew were actively fishing, while the Zebedee brothers were repairing their nets. Jesus issues an invitation: Follow me and I will make you fish for people. Immediately, we are told, they leave their nets, their families, and everything else that was their life in Capernaum, and followed him. Evidently, this is what it means to repent: to follow Jesus the Christ to live the life of God’s kingdom, God’s vision, God’s dream for this world of God’s own creation.

 

That is, repentance is not confession. Repentance is not about seeking forgiveness. Repentance is to change direction; to be transformed. To repent is to accept the invitation to follow Jesus. To accept a disruption, a change of the way things are and have been; to accept a disruption of work and life. Simon and Andrew are still brothers, but brothers who do the will of God. James and John do not cease being sons of Zebedee, but are now also children of God. All four leave their fishing nets, but they do not stop fishing. They are now in the presence of the kingdom of heaven, and as they now accept this change of their lives’ direction, they are now to fish for people. Their past has not been obliterated; it has been transformed by meeting Jesus and accepting his invitation to follow him. Which is what it means to repent. To follow Jesus and allow our lives to be changed and transformed.

 

And to follow him means to make the world a friendlier place of friendlier folk beneath a friendly sky. Lord knows, we find ourselves living in a world that looks more like the regions of Naphtali and Zebulan – a land of deep darkness. A land of friction and unfriendliness between different tribes of peoples. One can hardly turn on or read the “breaking news” without hearing another story of fear, or violence; stories of families ripped apart; individuals being shot, often randomly; to break down doors without warrant; the search, and seizures of people’s homes without due process. Problems of drug addiction, alcohol addiction, gambling addiction, ripping families apart. Countries seizing territories of neighboring countries with no provocation. Clear cutting of forests which are the lungs of the planet; polluting waterways and the oceans with microplastics and forever chemicals. Children and adults being trafficked around the world as sex-workers. And this just in: penguins in Antarctica having to adjust their mating seasons due to global warming caused in part by there being too many cars on the roadways, and too many planes in the air. The list of deep darknesses is mighty long and mighty dark.

 

When does it become obvious to us all that there are entire systems of societies and of the Earth’s ecology in deep need of Repentance – to find other ways that might lead us to being a friendly world of friendly folk beneath a friendly sky? When do we notice that Repentance has nothing to do with confessing I/we have done something wrong and asking for forgiveness, but rather means to stop doing whatever it is that causes deep darkness in this world and allow ourselves to change, to be transformed, into a people who will live into Christ’s understanding of the kingdom of heaven? Of living lives that are in accord with God’s will, not our own, not that of our tribe, but to become sons and daughters of God’s Dream for a world of kindness and love and mercy and care for others? All others? That repentance is not about believing, but following?

 

This is what Matthew hears in Jesus’s invitation to “repent for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” One day along the banks of the Sea of Galilee outside the city of Capernaum four common fishermen felt the nearness of God’s presence in a young man named Jesus. They left everything that was their life and livelihood, and followed him. And what they saw was a new world unfolding before their very eyes. People learned how to love God and love neighbor. People were healed of all manner of dis-ease. More and more people left their homes, families and livelihoods and followed him into the very presence of God’s world as God dreams, wishes, and hopes it will be. Matthew recounts that day that four fishermen were changed, and set out to change others so that all people might one day know and feel the presence of God in Christ Jesus.

 

Our prayer this day is “to answer readily the call of our Savior Jesus Christ and proclaim to all people the Good News of his salvation, that we and the whole world may perceive the glory of his marvelous works.” Do we hear our prayer and accept the invitation to repent, to change, to be changed, so that all the world that walks in darkness might see the great Light of Christ? For when we let ourselves repent and be changed, everything can change such that the darkness shall not and cannot remain the same. This is the very essence of Christian Hope. And Christian Love, and Mercy, and Justice for all. All means all. For if even one of us is chained, none of us are free. Amen.

Witness John Epiphany 2A

 

The Witness

This is not the same John we see in Matthew, Mark, or Luke. The figure in chapter 1 of the Fourth Gospel is not presented as an Elijah figure. He is not a forerunner preparing the way for Jesus. For heaven’s sake, twice he says, “I myself did not know him!” The narrator tells us that this John who baptizes and purifies with water is primatily a witness. That is, he testifies to what he has seen. And what he has seen of the Word who becomes flesh and blood and moves into the neighborhood paints a distinctive understanding of who Jesus is, why he comes to live among us, and what this means for us. [John 1:29-42]

 

There are three parts to the testimony of John. 1) ““Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” 2) “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’” 3) “I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God.” Lamb+Spirit= Son of God. Who comes, says John, to take away “the sin of the world.” Singular, “sin,” not plural, “sins”

 

This begs the question: What is the “sin of the world”? The late Archbishop of Canterbury William Temple in his Readings in St. John’s Gospel spells it out thusly: “For there is only one sin and it is characteristic of the whole world. It is the self-will which prefers “my way” to Gods – which puts “me” in the centre where only God is in place. It pervades the universe. It accounts for the cruelty of the jungle, where each animal follows its own appetite, unheeding and unable to heed any general good. It becomes conscious, thereby tenfold more virulent, in man – a veritable Fall indeed. And no individual is responsible for it. It is an “infection of nature…it sets us at enmity against God; it is the ‘sin of the world.’” [p.24] This sin is corporate, not individual.

 

What more does John’s testimony tell us about Jesus the Word made flesh? It is kind of surprising. One needs to know that lambs were not sacrificed in the Temple for the forgiveness of  sins, plural, one may have committed. A bull, a goat, or a sheep may be offered, but not a lamb. A lamb is set aside to be prepared for the Passover meal on the Day of Preparation, that is, the day before Passover. And this Passover, or Paschal, Lamb is not a sacrifice for sins, but rather a symbol. Perhaps, THE symbol of the Jewish faith: the lamb is prepared for the family meal to commemorate Israel’s deliverance from slavery in Egypt. It is not a sacrifice for sins at all. As the Passover Lamb, therefore, Jesus has been sent to liberate the world from slavery to “sin,” singular. To liberate us from our self-will, or self-centeredness, which makes us unable to serve the general or common good of all human kind. As the Lamb of God, Jesus has been sent to bring the world into new and fresh contact with the presence of God so that human alienation from God and one another, can end. So that we might serve God’s will, and serve the common good of all persons, all creatures, and creation itself.

 

John further testifies that he knows Jesus is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world because John witnessed the pneuma, the breath, wind, or Spirit of God, descend from heaven like a dove and remain on Jesus. The verb tense is perfect, signaling that this is not a one- time event or moment in time, but rather a continuous state – the Spirit-Breath remains with the Lamb of God, and animates his every intervention to repair the world of its sin; to repair the world of its alienation from God and from one another. To return the world right-side up again so that we all might serve the common good rather than just looking out for ourselves.

 

This breath, like the Word, was with God in the beginning. The breath blew across the face of chaotic and troubled waters, calming and ordering creation as a place of Light and Life. God breathed life into Adam, the first man. It is God’s pneuma, ruach, or breath that gives us life; which animates us; inspires us; makes us whole. This breath, this pneuma, is central to the Fourth Gospel’s telling of the tale. It is on the cross, when Jesus breathes his last breath that we are told, “He handed over his Spirit.” He handed over God’s Spirit-Breath so that we might be animated by the same will of God for the common good of all humankind.

 

It is important that we understand this handing over of the Sprit-Breath of Christ. It is believed that the longtime unspoken name of the God of the Bible is Yahweh. Richard Rohr in his book, The Naked Now, reports that formally, God’s name was not spoken, but breathed. Many believe today that its correct pronunciation “is an attempt to imitate the very sound of inhalation and exhalation.” This is the one thing we all do, every moment of every day. Therefore, we are speaking the Holy Name of God with every breath we take as long as we live. What if we were mindful of this? Rohr also suggests that God’s name is the first word we speak when we enter this world, and the last word we speak when we leave this world.

 

The more one is mindful of this, we begin to realize that there is no Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Daoist, or any other way of breathing. There is no American, African, European, or Asian way of breathing. There is no rich or poor way of breathing. Understanding the nature of the Spirit-Breath of God utterly levels the playing field. The air of the world is one and the same air, and this divine “wind” blows where it will [John 3:8]. Which appears to be everywhere. Eventually, we come to understand that no one religion, no one people, can control this Spirit.

 

As the dove of the Spirit lands upon and remains with Jesus, and from the cross is then handed over to us, God is suddenly as available and accessible as the very thing we do all day long – breathe. The first thing Jesus does when he rises and returns from the dead is to breathe the Spirit-Breath upon the disciples gathered in the upper room. Many of those who teach prayer urge us to “stay with the breath.” The same breath that God breathed into Adam’s nostrils; that Jesus hands over to us; that Jesus breathers on us as His Shalom, his forgiveness, mercy, and love for the common good of all humankind. Isn’t it wonderful and mysterious that this breath, wind, spirit, and air, are precisely nothing – and yet, everything!

 

Keep breathing in this way. Breathe mindfully, and we will come to know that we are connected to all humanity from the earliest cavemen and women, to astronauts, to the entire animal world, and even to the trees, plants, and flowers. And we now are told that the atoms we breathe are physically the same as the stardust from the original Big Bang! Our Oneness with all creation and the entire universe, therefore, is no longer a vague mystical notion, but a scientific fact.

 

Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the Sin of the World! Behold the Holy Spirit-Breath that rests upon him and remains with him. See how he hands over his Spirit-Breath to us all, inviting us to serve the common good of all people, all creatures, and all creation itself. May we breathe intentionally to allow the Spirit-Breath move us past all of our self-interest and self-centeredness to understand our ultimate connection and Oneness with all creation. To serve God and serve Others is the only way in which we can truly serve our own best interests. Amen.

The Baptism of Jesus and Us 2026 A

 

The Baptism of Jesus and Us

To fully understand the scene on the banks of the River Jordan, we need to look at what has been left out of our Sunday lessons between the birth of Jesus, and his baptism, which one needs to recognize, is not Christian baptism. The story in Acts 10:34-43 about Cornelius, is the second description of Christian baptism, and quite possibly the first Gentile (i.e. non-Jewish) Christian baptism. In Acts chapter eight, the baptism of the Ethiopian eunuch who worked for the Candace, the powerful queen of The Kush, ancient Ethiopia, is the first recorded Christian baptism. There is no record of Christian baptism in any one of the four Gospels. Luke’s descriptions in Acts, therefore, are the first recorded episodes of baptism as we think of it in the Church. 

The missing narratives: shortly after the visit of the Gentile Magi, Joseph has a dream warning him to take the child and the child’s mother to Egypt because Herod, the Empire’s appointed King of the Jews, is much vexed at the news the Magi announced of the birth of a child who is to become King of the Jews. One ought to note the irony: Egypt, once upon a time the land that held the Hebrew people as slaves, from which Jesus’s ancestors escaped to freedom to a new homeland, is now considered the safest place to protect the child in the manger. 

And protection is absolutely necessary, as Herod ordered the murder of all the children under the age of two in Bethlehem and the surrounding region – that is, all of Jesus’s cousins, a generation of relatives in the City of David, are slaughtered out of Herod’s paranoia of losing his plum position in the Empire of Rome. And it is not just Herod. We read in chapter two of Matthew that “all of Jerusalem,” the priests and the Sadducees included, were fearful of the news of this child born in Bethlehem, since most of them were complicit with the brutality of the Empire. They were charged with announcing and initiating Government policy, collecting new taxes, and adjudicating those who broke Roman law and were consigned to be crucified. 

Against this background of violence and brutality against the population of Israel, we find John, arrayed in animal skins like the ancient prophet Elijah, baptizing the people of Jerusalem and the surrounding area of Judea; a baptism of repentance – to repent of complicity with the Roman government. To repent of straying from faithfulness to being God’s Servant people as announced centuries earlier by the prophet Isaiah [42:1-9]. The prophetic poetry is ambiguous as to the identity of the Servant. Is it an individual? Or, is it the nation of God’s people Israel? Might it be both? What we do know is that God’s Servant is to enact God’s will of justice, peace, and dignity for all people. God’s justice is to be wrought gently, carefully, caringly. The Servant is so gentle: “a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice.” In other words, God’s justice is to be wrought in ways utterly at odds with the strength, force, and power of the Empire. John is calling for a reset. Calling for a resistance movement based in the mercy, forgiveness and love of God. Calling for the people to embrace their appointed role as God’s Servant people as Isaiah had announced centuries before. 

Some Pharisees and Sadducees had come down to the river. John immediately called out their motives as suspect. Especially those of the Sadducees who were complicit with the regime of violence against their own people. John issues a warning: if they are not sincere in changing their ways, there is One who is to come with his winnowing fork and will separate the wheat from the chaff, and the chaff shall be burned in “unquenchable fire.” It is onto this stage, into this ritual bathing in the river, that Jesus, now an adult, chooses to align himself with John’s movement. 

No one, least of all Jesus, knew what would happen. John initially defers to Jesus. “You should baptize me.” I am not worthy. But Jesus is resolute. Jesus is there to validate John’s call to repentance and resistance to the deep violence of the occupation. Jesus goes down beneath the waters of the river. Then, as he comes up renewed and aligned with the call for justice, it happens. The Spirit, the Breath of God which in the beginning blew across the chaotic waters of creation, returns and settles upon Jesus like a dove. A voice from heaven speaks, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” The Servant Isaiah had imagined long ago, the Servant is now both a people and a man. A man declared at birth to be Emmanuel – God with us. 

I am not certain that there are words to describe what Jesus must have felt at that moment. Or, what John must have felt? Not to mention the crowd who had come voluntarily to participate in the renewal of what it means to be God’s people of justice, mercy, and forgiveness; to stand against the strength, force, and power of the Empire of brutality and violence. What did they see and hear in that moment that the Spirit had returned, and the voice that had declared this young man from Galilee as God’s Beloved Son? One thing can be certain. The Pharisees and Sadducees could suddenly see the winnowing fork in Jesus’s hand. They could see that the jig was up. They could see that there was to be a change in the wind, wrought by the breath and Spirit of the God who was there to initiate a new thing, a renewal of ancient vows and promises. And that it was to be a time of grave decision: Do we answer to Yahweh of the exodus, exile and return home? Or, with Caesar, Herod, and the rule of strength, force, absolute power, and brutality? Witness the number of crosses of those already crucified lining the roads and the hillside outside Jerusalem. 

Like all those people down by the River Jordan that day, look at where we find ourselves today as we are about to renew our Baptismal Vows and Promises. In many ways, circumstances are not so different as they were that day Jesus chose to take a stand against violence; against a regime of strength, force, power, and brutality. We live among citizens in our nation who openly declare, “We live in a world, in the real world, that is governed by strength, that is governed by force, that is governed by power… These are the iron laws of the world that have existed since the beginning of time... rather than international law or ‘niceties.’” All too often, we hear of those who shoot first and ask questions later. Who harass U.S. citizens without warrant. 

In a few moments, we will renew our Baptismal Covenant and Vows. When we do, we will align ourselves with John, Jesus, and all those people down by the river, as well as with Christians like The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, and Representative John Lewis, who practiced a “gentle” and peaceful resistance to support a nation of laws and peaceful protest; to seek justice and peace for all people, and respect for the dignity of every human being. We will promise that with God’s help we will seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves. We will promise that everything we do and everything we say will proclaim the Good News of God in Jesus Christ. These are not easy promises to keep. And promises that somehow have become counter-cultural in today’s upside-down world. Jesus calls us to be the Beloved Community of Love. God’s Spirit, God’s breath, God’s holy wind promises to be with us as we decide whether or not to renew these promises. Promises which have felt no more important than they do today. We pray for God’s Spirit-Breath to give us the strength to affirm and fulfill these promises that represent God’s will for all people, everywhere all the time. We say, Emmanuel, God is with us. Now is the time to decide if we really believe this. Amen.  

Epiphany: The Camel's Story Matthew 2:1-12

 Epiphany: The Camel’s Story [Matthew 2:1-12]

Ships of the desert, my eye! Being a beast of burden is not all it is cracked up to be when old nothing but dust for brains Adam named us camels, and when Isaiah proclaimed that a multitude of us would cover the land of promise bearing peoples and gifts from all corners of the earth to come and see the brightness of the light of God's people shining through the thick darkness covering all the earth. But still, without the bunch of us lugging all the supplies and tents, and yes, those precious if not somewhat odd gifts for a baby shower, the Magi, or the Wise Ones as I like to call them, would never have made it by the twelfth day. Besides, I consider myself one of the lucky ones who only had to carry one of the Wise One's himself, Melchior. 

As it was, by the time we got there, Bethlehem, after being a town bustling and bursting with people and commerce for those few days of the census, had returned to its sleepy, tired City of David after everyone had been counted and had gone home. Which is to say, when we got there, the place was empty. Just a man, a woman, and between them the baby who was to be King. But there I go getting ahead of myself. 

Thank goodness for Omar and Zepho and the other camel boys who actually saw to it that we were fed and watered and rubbed down now and then, while the Wise Ones could hardly if ever keep their heads out of the stars. If they were not gazing at the stars they were talking about them, charting them, interpreting them, and searching for just the one that would relieve them of their endlessly restless, inquiring and yearning spirits. While they searched the heavens and earth for something they kept calling "the truth," the rest of us in their not so little caravan saw to it that life was lived and everyone was taken care of. They often missed the most interesting and exciting parts of the journey, so absorbed and preoccupied were they with their own concerns and interests. Like the mouse who smuggled herself into the saddlebag of Gaspar's camel, Bella. She was a teenage mouse who had had a terrible fight with her parents and run away. But there I go again. I'm getting off the point. 

So, where were we? Certainly not at that dreadful King Herod's palace. That’s Herod, King of the Jews. Oh, there was plenty of company for all of us camels amidst his livestock and barns, and plenty of water and grain and other good things to eat, but even we could sense the terrible cloak of darkness and death that surrounded his entire little piece of the great Roman Empire. And who was this Caesar he kept talking about? He seemed troubled to hear all the Wise Ones talking about the stars and a new King of the Jews and could he give directions to the place where the child lay. Well, no, blustered Herod, but surely you will return to tell me where the little one is so I can go there myself to worship him. It wasn't what he said but how he said it that made even the fleas on my humps crawl with uneasiness. There was a rattling in his throat, and his hands trembled, and the air was as still as death. It doesn’t take a Wise One to know that no king has ever yet bowed down to another king. We all thought, surely there must be another way out of here. And as it turned out, we never did return to Herod as we headed off in a new direction afterwards, which was too bad since there was something compelling about that child. 

On the outskirts of Bethlehem, we decided to make our camp where we ran across the happiest and wildest bunch of Bedouin shepherds you ever did see. All of them talking at once about angels and a baby and Good News for everyone. The Wise Ones smiled. The first time any of us had ever seen them smile! Just then we took the Wise One’s and all the gifts and headed into town to see if it was just as the shepherds had told us. 

When we found the young family, it was night. It was very cold. The odor of the hay was very sweet, and the cattle's breath, like ours, came out in little puffs of mist hanging in the air. Of course, I wasn't supposed to come into the place where they were. In fact, it was such a tiny little manger on the ground floor of the house. There wasn't much room. But we had come so far, traveling for so many years to find something, someone, somewhere, that it seemed possible that we really might have to search no further. I figured it couldn't hurt if I just stuck my head in for a peek. 

So, while Omar and Zepho and the others were unloading the gifts off the back of my cousin, and the Wise Ones were still consulting their charts and graphs to make certain that this truly was the one they were searching for, I stuck my head in. Well, it was a bit surprising to find the scene so ordinary. I don't know what I had expected, but after years of schlepping these Wise Ones and all their gear and supplies all over every-possible-place, I guess I thought there would be crowds, and family, and all kinds of hoopla. I mean, even when a new camel is born amongst the herd, there is more attention and excitement: camel boys doing the midwifery, the rest of us clomping around to get a peek, shouts, cheers, everyone watching the new one try to stand up for the first time.

 

There was none of that in this little tiny place in Bethlehem. The man, the woman, between them the child. But no, just from the glance I caught, even I would have to say "between them, the King." Even I could see that this little child was true-light itself, but it is really curious how little babies like this one cannot even get up on their legs the way we do. They just lie there, so, well, still and vulnerable. Even I could see that even the stars might bow down before this one. Even I could see that he could teach creepy old Herod a thing or two about being a king. Even I could see that the heavens and earth and all creation were somehow about to be made new by the presence of this one baby asleep in the hay. 

It's just too bad the Wise Ones did not seem to see all that. I mean they put their gifts in there, and bowed down on bended knee and all. But then it was back out the door, and up looking into the heavens again, and soon we were being loaded up and herded down the road and out of town. All of us except Bella, that is. Our little mouse companion stayed behind. She just could not bring herself to leave those people alone. She was not going back. Or going anywhere. She was staying right there with him, the one born to be King. She wanted to live the rest of his story! 

Of course, we missed her. Gaspar's camel had come to like the little one. It was some years later that another mouse joined our caravan and started telling some fantastic and wonderful stories she had heard from her great-great-grandmother Bella! Seems that throughout the years many people came to see the child born to be King. Some went running through the streets and all over the world telling others the good things they had seen and heard about this child. Others came to offer whatever gifts they had so that he might bring abundant life to all the world. All came seeking to receive something from him. But once you see him, really see him, you long to give whatever you have, all that you have, to further his life in the world. 

Sometime or another, everyone comes to take a look in that manger. Whenever your time comes to be with him, stop and spend more time than we did. The Wise Ones kept us wandering all over the place, looking for whatever they called "the truth." Somehow, they just could not see that the “truth” is not an idea or a belief, but rather truth and salvation are a person – that child we once saw in Bethlehem. They kept vowing that one day they would return to Bethlehem, but every year they spent more and more time doing everything else but spending time with him before whom even the stars are said to bow down. I don't know what they saw, but I know what I saw. Just that glance, a peek in the door was enough to know that this Jesus reveals to you how much God watches over you and loves you. Even I could see that this Jesus calls us to follow him so we might do something beautiful with our lives and bear much fruit. Even us camels! 

That’s the one thing I saw that night: that the World needs you. God needs you. Jesus needs you. They need your gifts, your light, and your love. Isn't that the funny part of it all? The Wise Ones are off all the time looking at the light in the stars, when the light that is the light of the world is right here in the midst of us. He shows us that. Any camel with eyes could see that! Know, my sister, my brother, that there is a hidden place in your heart where Jesus lives and his light shines! This is a deep secret that even the Wisest Ones overlook most of the time. Let Jesus live in you. Go forward with him into all the world. Let your little light shine, for the light that is the life of the world is still coming into the world through that child we saw that night long ago. 

By the way, did I fail to mention the seemingly little-known fact that Melchior's name was really "Salome," and that it was changed not merely because of the patriarchy, but because of the seemingly strange gift of Myrrh that she brought to the Christ child? Myrrh. A burial spice. Of course, the Wood of the Crib is the Hard Wood of the Cross. I will ask you a terrible question. Is the Truth beyond all truths, beyond the stars, just this – that to live without him is real death, that to die with him is the only life? But, that’s an altogether different story. Or, is it?   

Keep looking at the babe in the manger. Offer him your gifts, and you will see all that there is to know and see! And then some. And then some. And who knows, maybe if we all offer of ourselves as much as we receive from him, we just might one day make it through the eye of a needle! Amen. 

[Thanks, and apologies, to Ted Loder, Frederick Buechner, John Shea, and Jean Vanier whose writings and reflections inspired this telling of The Camel’s Story.]

A Different Kind of Christmas Story Christmas 1

 

A Different Kind of Christmas Story   Christmas 1A

There once was a mouse. His whole world was at the tip of his nose and close to the ground. But one day he heard a roaring in his ears. He asked the other mice, but no others could hear it and thought he was daft. The mouse was determined to see for himself.

 

He followed the roaring sound until a voice said, “Hello!” The mouse was startled. “Who is there?” he asked. “I am raccoon! Where are you going?” “I can hear a roaring in my ears. Where is it?” “Oh,” said the raccoon, “that is the Medicine River. Let me show you where it is.” And off they went to the river. When the mouse saw the river, and could see all of creation reflected on its surface, he was amazed! Then he looked into the water and saw a frightened little mouse looking back. A voice asked, “Who are you?” There, on a lily pad was a frog. “I could hear the roaring in my ears, but did not know about the river.” The frog asked, “Would you like some medicine power?” Oh, yes, said the little mouse! “Do not be afraid. Jump as high as you can, and see what else you can see!” The mouse was scared, but he crouched down and jumped up high, and off in the distance he saw mountains! “Those are the Sacred Mountains,” said the frog as the mouse fell in the water. “Oh, I must run back to my people and tell them about the river and the Sacred Mountains!” “Yes, and now you have a new name! You are Jumping Mouse!”

 

Jumping Mouse returned to the world of mice, but no one believed him about the Medicine River and the Sacred Mountains. And why was he wet? It had not rained. But all Jumping Mouse could think of was going to see the Sacred Mountains, and off he went again. He could see spots in the sky. They were eagles, so he had to be careful so as not to be seen. He came upon a stand of bushes, and there was an Old Mouse. A wise Old Mouse. “This is wonderful,” said Jumping Mouse, “The eagles cannot not see us here.” “Oh yes,” said the Old Mouse, “and from here we can see all the beings of the prairie: Buffalo, Antelope, Rabbit, and Coyote. We can see them and know them all by name! Why don’t you stay here with us?” “I am looking for the sacred mountains,” said Jumping Mouse. “Oh, that’s just a myth. Stay with us.” I have seen them, thought Jumping Mouse. I can never forget them. “I must be on my way,” he said. “Be careful of the spots in the sky. Those are eagles!” said the Old Mouse. But off he went.

 

After a while he came across a stand of chokeberries, and there was much food there to gather, when he bumped into a large heap of fur with black horns. “What are you doing here,” asked Jumping Mouse. “I am Buffalo, and I am dying. My medicine tells me I need the eye of a mouse, but there is no such thing as a mouse.” “I am a mouse,” said Jumping mouse. “I have two eyes. I can give you one of them!” And with that his one eye left and went to the Buffalo who suddenly jumped to his feet, shaking the ground beneath Jumping Mouse’s feet. “Thank you, little brother. I know of your quest for the Sacred Mountains. You have given me life so that I might help others. I will take you to the foot of the Sacred Mountains, and you need not fear the eagles, as you will run beneath me so they cannot see you.” And off they went.

 

At the foot of the Sacred Mountains, Buffalo said, “This is as far as I can take you. Good luck on your quest little brother, and thank you for giving me my life back!” “It was scary,” said Jumping Mouse, “running beneath you with your hooves thundering so. But thank you for saving me from the spots in the sky!” As Jumping Mouse was looking for food, he came across a Grey Wolf. “Hello, Wolf,” he said. “Wolf? Wolf! Yes, that’s what I am, a wolf.” But after a few minutes, Wolf again forgot who he was. Jumping Mouse said to himself, how strange that he cannot remember who he is. “I can help you,” he said. “My eyes have medicine power, and I can give you my one eye to recover your memory. You are a greater being than I am, you deserve it.” And when he said that, his one eye flew over to the Wolf, and now he could remember who he was again. The Wolf had tears in his eyes, but Jumping Mouse could not see for now he was blind.

 

“You are a great little brother,” said the Wolf, “and now that you are blind, I will take you to the top of the Sacred Mountains where there is a great Medicine Lake. Up there, all the world is reflected in its waters. All the people, their lodges, the beings of the prairie. You can see it all.” “O, Please, take me there,” said Jumping Mouse!

 

When they got there, Jumping Mouse drank from the Medicine Lake, and the Wolf described the great beauty of all the world reflected in the lake. Then Wolf said he needed to go. Jumping Mouse thanked him for bringing him to the Sacred Mountain, and as the Wolf wandered off, Jumping Mouse began to tremble. He could no longer run away, and he could sense the Eagles were circling above him. Sure enough, an Eagle dove down and struck him, and Jumping Mouse fell asleep.

 

When he woke up, he could see again, though everything was blurry. A voice approached him saying, “Would you like some medicine, little brother?” “Oh, yes I would, thank you.” “Why then crouch down as low as you can and jump as high as you can.” Jumping Mouse did that, and the wind picked him up off the ground. His sight became a little clearer. The voice cried out, “Do not be afraid, little brother. Hang on to the wind and trust!” Jumping Mouse closed his eyes and hung onto the wind, and the higher he went, the clearer his vision became, until soon he was looking down on the Great Medicine Lake, and he could see his old friend the Frog on the lily pad! “You have a new name,” called the Frog. “You are Eagle!”  I am Eagle, thought Jumping Mouse, and off he flew, free from the ground, able to see the beauty of all creation from high up in the sky! He was Eagle!

 

John gives us a different kind of Christmas Story in which we are invited to become children of God! [John 1:1-18] Like Genesis, John starts, “In the beginning…” and suddenly we are swept into the story of a new creation! It announces that in Christ, God became flesh and blood and moved into our neighborhood! Matthew, Mark, and Luke place the story in time and space in the here and now. John, symbolized by an Eagle, gives us a different perspective – a high-altitude view from before time and space – before creation itself. John wants us to jump as high as we can to see that before time and space, Jesus was the very Word God speaks to bring creation into being. From an eagle’s-eye view, John wants us to see that when one encounters the Word, one experiences God – the Word and God are One.

 

And like that other John, the baptizer, John’s different kind of Christmas story calls us to be witnesses to the Light and Life of the world. No one has ever seen God. It is God the Word, the only Son, who is close to the Father's heart, who has made him known. Seen from John’s eagle-eyed perspective, like Jumping Mouse we and the whole world can be and will be transformed. We become freed from whatever holds us earthbound; from whatever keeps us with our noses to the ground rather than flying free into the world of God’s new creation – God’s kingdom of light and life for all people, all creatures, and all creation itself. John’s story says, come join the journey to full union with God in Christ. God and Christ and we are One. Amen.

Christmas Eve 2025 God Is Here!

 

Christmas Eve 2025 – God Is Here!

That’s how we left it Sunday: God. Is. Here. Where do we go from here? That is the question.

 

Christmas Eve Eve I woke up early. It is dark. Really really dark. Some kind of rain or mist is going on. I feel my way through the dark into the living room and fire up the Lenovo Think Pad one more time. As I was falling asleep last night after baking dozens and dozens of cookies, poet Mary Oliver was describing a black snake. The snake “came like a whip…like black water flowing down the hill./ Watch me it whispered / then poured like black water through the field/ then hurried down, like black water into the mouses hole…” A black snake, like black water, underground with a mouse where it is darker than this Christmas Eve Eve morning, I thought.

 

And Oliver observes, “dear God, we too are down here in such darkness.” Yes, I thought, we are. Like Sisyphus, we try to claw our way back into the light, only to slip once again into the darkness…the Lenovo lights up. Breathe deep. Too much of its blue light can disturb your sleep. Disturb your peace. Darkness can be both disturbing and somehow reassuring at the same time. Calming or anxiety provoking. I open Facebook and my eyes fall upon the following from a lifetime friend and fellow traveler towards the Light and Life of the world:

Then He appeared and the soul felt its worth.

The thrill of Hope, a weary world rejoices…Please heal our world

 

Jesus would call it Tikkun Olan: repair the world. It is what he came to do. Repair the damage we have done to the world he created. God. Is. Here. And suddenly the soul feels its worth. Hope is reborn whenever we bear him, as Mary did, and give him to the World, a weary world, a jaded world, fearful of rejoicing, seeking healing for all that keeps us chained to the darkness. None of us are free, none of us are free, if one of us is chained, none of us are free...until we let his light to shine within...the morning star that knows no setting...He comes, He rises still, He appears in the oddest moments, in the oddest of people we meet, in a manger with shepherds of all people. Do we see him? Do we call him? Do we seek him? Do we ever see him in others? And then he is right here, where two or three are gathered, he is in the midst of us lighting the way home, home to ourselves, our true selves, our loving selves, our light filled selves…we feel our worth, we feel the thrill of Hope, we rejoice, ideo o o ideo o o, ideo, gloria, in excelsis Deo!

 

Google AI reveals: that last part first appeared in a Finnish Song Book in 1582. We don’t know how old it really is, but of course Id-e-o-o-o" is a vocalization from the Christmas carol "Personent Hodie" ("On This Day Earth Shall Ring"), where it leads into the Latin phrase "Gloria in excelsis Deo," meaning "Glory to God in the highest," a joyful chant by the angels announcing Jesus's birth. The "Id-e-o" is meant to mimic angelic singing. He Is Here. Lying in a manger. Or, as Matthew has it, in a house. Some commentators remind us, 2,000 years ago, the first floor of a house might have a manger where the animals would spend the night indoors. Something like those Charleston, South Carolina homes, where the sitting room is on the second floor. The last time I saw The Reverend Frank Mcclain was in one of those homes.

 

Frank+ was my first rector out of seminary. He retired to Charleston, and on a visit, Frank took me to the top floor of their house and said, “Look out this window.” And through a rather small window on the top floor, one can see the place that started it all – Fort Sumter. That’s where it began. When will it ever end? Or, as Pete Seeger would ask over and over again, “When will we ever learn? When will we ever learn….” In the holy darkness of Christmas Eve Eve, I miss Frank. I miss my father Robert. I miss my mother, Patricia. The Holy Darkness of Christmas brings out the ghosts of our past. I miss Missie, Frank’s wife. The last time I saw Missie and the girls, we were sitting in that second floor sitting room getting ready to head over to Frank’s funeral just before Christmas that year. I shared with the family the sermon Frank delivered my first Christmas as a priest in Christ’s One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church. They had never heard it. I re-read it every year. It concludes:

“Christmas, we have often emphasized, has been and is a time of giving. The letters that come in the mail, stack upon stack of them, tend to underline those words of Jesus, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” This is recorded in the Book of Acts and not in the Gospels. That of course is true – and yet, never forget it, Christmas is also a time to receive a gift, wonderful truth.

            “We will each of us receive some special gift tomorrow from someone who loves us. More wonderful even, we will each of us, singly and together, receive a gift from someone who loves us even more, from God.

            “In any of our lives there is a manger, now doubtless empty, cold, malodorous, surrounded by beasts – the heartbreaks, tragedies, and disappointments of our lives. But it is there that you will find the child, new born, if you will look on him and be open to receive God’s gift.

            “It can come to you this Christmas, that gift, that birth within you of the Christ Child, when you become aware of and touch, perhaps only fleetingly, the whole and complete person God intended you to be; that God intends you to be. It can happen when you are alone or it can happen when you are in company. It can happen here, at this present Bethlehem, this Holy Table, when and where you receive tangible evidence, symbols of bread and wine, God’s Body and Blood, God’s life.

            “As in receiving any real gift, your response will be astonishment, humility (Why me?), and deep, restorative joy – to which you can only say Gratia, Thank You, Eucharist, Grace!

            “Be open tonight/today to receive that gift, open-handed, offering nothing but your need, your empty manger. Centuries of experience assure you that God’s gift is being offered, God’s Son, born within you. Arise and go out into the world with astonishment with humility, with joy. Respond in whatever language you may know, Thank you, Eucharisto, Gratia. Your gratitude will show forth – and – a Merry Christmas.”

 

A few days later, back home in Maryland, Frank’s Christmas card arrived, dated just a few days before the heart attack took him home. At the end of the card he wrote, “May your coming year be bright and the kind of world you deserve. With love, Frank/Missie.” Frank knew better than just about anyone I have ever known that God. Is. Here. Immanuel: God is with us. Let God In. Let in The Light! Become the Light of Christ. Help others to see the God who is here!

 

That’s the joke of it all, isn’t it. We wait and wait for God in Christ to return when it seems he never really left. That’s the hook in his final words to us at the very end of Matthew’s gospel, “Lo, I am with you always, to the end of the age!” Whenever we think we are done with Jesus we discover that Jesus is never done with us! God is with us. To the end of the age. The darkness has not overcome The Light! God is here. Jesus is here. Always. Forever. And ever. It’s like what I saw on Facebook: He appeared and the soul felt its worth. The thrill of Hope, a weary world rejoices. Please heal our world, He says! Tikkun Olam, He says! Repair the world, He says! That’s where we go from here! Gloria, in excelsis Deo! God bless us, every one!