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David Orendorff        John 1:1-14          December 25, 2011

John says, “And the Word became flesh and lived among us…”  What can that possibly mean? How does a word become flesh?  The “Word” is a translation of the Greek Logos.  Logos means much more than a collection of sounds to be spoken or read.  The Logos is the will, purpose, design and logic of the universe.  It is natural law and moral law.  The Logos explains everything.  When the Logos becomes flesh it is God’s purpose, meaning and design become human to live as one of us, and with each of us; become flesh to dance in joy with us and to suffer with us, even to die in suffering that we might live in grace.

That God chose to be born as one of us is as great a wonder as God choosing to die for all of us.  What is very likely our earliest Christian hymn, recorded in Paul’s letter to the church in Philippi, says it this way:

Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God,

did not regard equality with God

as something to be exploited

but emptied himself,

taking the form of a slave

being born in human likeness.

And being found in human form,

he humbled himself

and became obedient to the point of death -

even death on a cross.[1]

No other God has chosen to let go of being divine in order to live as the people live.  No other God has chosen to be a baby, then a child, then an adolescent and finally an adult in order to live as the people live.  No other God has chosen to laugh and cry, rejoice and suffer to live as we live.  No other God has become human in order to die with the people.  No other God has loved as our God loves.

Ramesh was a man who looked upon Christmas as a lot of humbug.  He wasn’t a scrooge.  He was as kind and decent person, generous to his family, upright in all his dealings with others.  But he didn’t believe all that stuff about God being born as a person.

On Christmas Eve the snow began to pour down and the flurry was getting heavier and heavier.  Hearing a pounding on his front window Ramesh went to see the cause.  Below the window he saw a flock of birds huddled miserably in the snow.  They’d been caught in the storm and in a desperate search for shelter had tried to fly through his window.

“I can’t let these poor creatures lie there and die,” he thought, “but how can I help them?”  Then he remembered the barn.  It would provide a warm shelter.  He put on his rain-coat and tramped to the barn, opening the doors wide he turned on a light.  But the birds didn’t come in.  “Food will bring them in,” he thought.  So he hurried back to the house for bread crumbs, which he sprinkled on the snow to make a trail into the barn.

To his dismay, the birds ignored the bread crumbs and continued to flop around helplessly in the snow.  He tried shoeing them in the barn by walking around and waving his arms.  They scattered in every direction - except into the warm, lighted barn.  “They find me a strange and terrifying creature,” he said to himself.  “And I can’t seem to think of any way to let them know they can trust me.  If only I could be a bird myself for a few minutes, perhaps I could them to safety…”

Just at that moment, the Church bells began to ring.  Ramesh stood silently for a while, listening to the bells pealing the glad tidings of Christmas.  Then he sank to his knees in the snow.  “Now I do understand,” he whispered.  “Now I know why You were born as one of us.”[2]

One more Christmas thought:  We don’t really know what day or year Jesus was born.  December 25 was chosen by the Roman Emperor Constantine as the day to celebrate Jesus’ birth in 336 CE.  Constantine’s choice replaced several older customs in various cultures of celebrating the return of the sun to longer days after the winter solstice.  A few years later Pope Julius I declared December 25 the official birthday of Jesus.

I like the mystery of Christmas day. It means to me that any day and any year is the birth of the Logos, God become flesh, among us.  Today is the day of God with us.  And tomorrow, and the morrow following, is the day of God doing what no other God has done, become a person with us so that we might know God’s love and come to trust God through his presence with us as Jesus.

The mystery of Christmas day means that the person next to you, the one you see at Safeway, the homeless women with her shopping cart, or the rich man in his BMW (like me), just might be, and very probable is, on some day of some year God’s Logos.  It means that we celebrate not only the birth of Jesus as God with us, but that we celebrate God with us in each other.

Merry Christmas, Shalom and Amen.

[2] modified from a story  by Bro. John Singarayar SVD  http://www.turnbacktogod.com/god-dwelt-among-us/

 

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David Orendorff                  Luke 1:26-38       December 18, 2011

The girl at the window waits. Like all of us she sees not only the grace of the world, but also its poverties. There are wars that rage in the land, and in the soul of the broken, wounded and mentally ill. There is hunger, racism, sexism, and ageism. There are the inequities of the rich and the powerful. There are the tears of the dying and those who love them. The girl at the window waits and wonders if there is Christmas in her.

Three thousand five hundred years ago Miriam waited and wondered. Miriam was the sister to Moses and Aaron. She was a poet and prophetess to the Hebrew people. And she was the one many believe began writing down the oral history of her people, which eventually gave us the Bible. It is Miriam who wonders, as they flee Pharaoh and the slavery of Egypt, if Pharaoh’s army will destroy her people. It is Miriam who, when all hope is lost, sees that Pharaoh’s army has been covered by the sea. So it is Miriam who leads the singing:

Miriam: “I will sing to the Lord,

for he has triumphed gloriously;

the horse and its chariot he has thrown into the sea.

The Lord is my strength and my song,

and the Lord has become my salvation;

this is my God, and I will praise God,

my father’s and my mother’s God,

and I will exalt God.”[1]

Three thousand years ago Hannah waited and wondered. Hannah was barren for many years and tormented by her husband’s first wife, who had many sons. In her despair Hannah wept, would not eat, and prayed, “O Lord of hosts, if thou wilt indeed look on the affliction of thy servant, and remember me, and not forget thy servant….” Finally Hannah had a son whom she named Samuel, meaning “he belongs to God.” And Samuel became a wise peacemaker for the Hebrew people in the awful time of the Philistines. In her joy Hannah sings:

Hannah: “My heart exults in the Lord;

my strength is exalted in the Lord.

My mouth derides my enemies,

because I rejoice in they salvation.

There is none holy like the Lord,

there is none besides thee;

there is no rock like our God.

Talk no more so very proudly,

let not arrogance come from your mouth;

for the Lord is a God of knowledge,
and by God actions are weighed.

The bows of the mighty are broken,

but the feeble gird on strength.

Those who were full have hired themselves out for bread,

but those who were hungry have ceased to hunger.

The barren has borne seven,

but she who has many children is forlorn.” [2]

Two thousand years ago, another girl waited and wondered. She too thought of the world’s poverties and suffering. She was named for Miriam and the granddaughter of Hannah. Her name was Mary. She thinks of the news brought to her by the angel Gabriel. This is no easy time for Mary. She is unwed. Her fiancé is skeptical and considers leaving her. Her family and village can hardly be expected to believe a story of angels, Spirit and God’s impregnation.

Mary, too, finds in herself a song to sing to God. It is a song that comes to her from Miriam and from Hannah. It is a song given to her by generations of God’s servants and by God’s own grace. For in Mary is to be born the answer to the world’s poverties. Mary’s song is a song of redemption sung before redemption has come, before the child is yet born. For Mary knows from her namesake and her grandmother that God will come.

Mary:      “My soul magnifies the Lord,

and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,

for he has seen the poverty of his servant.

For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed;

for God who is mighty has done great things for me,

and holy is God’s name.

And God’s mercy is on those who fear him

from generation to generation.

God has shown strength with his arm,

God has scattered the proud in the imaginations of their hearts,

God has put down the mighty from their thrones,

and exalted those of low degree;

God has filled the hungry with good things,

and the rich God has sent away empty.

God has helped his servant Israel to remember his mercy,

as he told it to our fathers,

to Abraham and to his posterity forever.”[3]

We sing Mary’s song of salvation at Advent to remember that, whatever window is ours, God is coming. It is a song as old as the human race and as fresh as each new baby. It is a song of God’s promise to be born among us, to live with us, and to take us home. We too are pregnant with God. In us is born God’s promises of compassion, justice, and peace.

Shalom and Amen.

[2] I Samuel 2:1-5

[3] Luke 1:46-55

 

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David Orendorff   Isaiah 61:1-3     December 11, 2011

When Jesus began his ministry he went to his home synagogue in Nazareth[1] and, when handed the scroll of Isaiah to read, he chose to read the verses from Isaiah we just read. Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. They were all looking at him. As the one who read the scripture, he was to be the first to reflect on it. After a time of silence Jesus spoke, saying, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

It was an audacious thing to say, for it was the announcement that not only was Jesus guided by the Spirit and anointed by God, but that the Spirit was upon every person in the room; that God had anointed each one there to bring the good news to the oppressed.

At first they spoke well of him and were amazed at the grace of his words. Then they got to thinking, “How can Jesus be full of the Spirit and anointed by God; after all, isn’t he Joseph’s son?” That is to say, isn’t Jesus just a person like we are people, for they did not believe that “just” people would be full of the God’s Spirit. So their doubts rose to the truth of what Jesus spoke. When Jesus made it clear that the Spirit and the anointing was true not just of them, or not just of Jews, but was true of every child born, even those of another religion, and even hated enemies, they became angry and drove him out of town (not in a limo) to a cliff over which they intended to throw him.

What Jesus says has been true from the beginning of time and space. The Big Bang is the first birth and it is full of Spirit and anointing. God becomes flesh in every subsequent act of creation. God becomes flesh in the birth of every baby. You are the stuff of stars and God made flesh. The Spirit of the Lord God is upon you; you are anointed to bring good news to the oppressed and to bind up the brokenhearted.

We Christians have a tendency to think that Jesus was exceptional and only talking about himself as God’s child. We can be heard to say; “Well, I’m not Jesus, you know.” While it is true that we are not Jesus, we are made in the image of God and therefore when we look in the mirror we see Jesus as God formed the Christ in us. And when we look fully into the face of any other, we see the Christ in them.

An early and foundational song of Bear Creek is “Weave” by Rosemary Crow. The final stanza and chorus go:

A moment ago still we did not know, Our unity, only diversity.

Now the Christ in me greets the Christ in thee in one great family.

Weave, weave, weave us together,

Weave us together in unity and love.

Weave, weave, weave us together,

Weave us together, together in love.[2]

Christmas comes as a holy celebration every year to remind us that God is born with us, in us, and among us. Because this is so easy to forget, we tell the story again and again-that we and every one we meet is God made flesh; that the Spirit is upon everyone, and that together we proclaim good news to the oppressed, brokenhearted, captives and prisoners.

A little Christmas story from Beverly Bartlett came my way and reminded me of how simple it is to be the Christ; so simple that in a child we see God present.

It was just a few more days until Christmas in San Francisco, and the shopping downtown was starting to get to us. I remember crowds of people waiting impatiently for slow-moving buses and streetcars on those little cement islands in the middle of the street. Most of us were loaded down with packages, and it looked like many of us were beginning to wonder if all those countless friends and relatives actually deserved so many gifts in the first place. This was not the Christmas spirit I’d been raised with.

When I finally found myself virtually shoved up the steps of a jammed streetcar, the idea of standing there packed like a sardine the whole way home was almost more than I could take. What I would have given for a seat! I must have been in some kind of exhausted daze because as people gradually got off, it took me a while to notice that there was room to breathe again.

Then I saw something out of the corner of my eye. A small, dark-skinned boy-he couldn’t have been more than five or six-tugged on a woman’s sleeve and asked, “Would you like a seat?” He quietly led her to the closest free seat he could find. Then he set out to find another tired person. As soon as each rare, new seat became available, he would quickly move through the crowd in search of another burdened woman who desperately needed to rest her feet.

When I finally felt the tug on my own sleeve, I was absolutely dazzled by the beauty in this little boy’s eyes. He took my hand, saying, “Come with me,” and I think I’ll remember that smile as long as I live. As I happily placed my heavy load of packages on the floor, the little emissary of love immediately turned to help his next subject.

The people on the streetcar, as usual, had been studiously avoiding each other’s eyes, but now they began to exchange shy glances and smiles. A businessman offered a section of newspaper to the stranger next to him; three people stooped to return a gift that had tumbled to the floor. And now people were speaking to one another. That little boy had tangibly changed something: we all relaxed into a subtle feeling of warmth and actually enjoyed the trip through the final stops along the route.

I didn’t notice when the child got off. I looked up at one point and he was gone. When I reached my stop I practically floated off that streetcar, wishing the driver a happy holiday, noticing the sparkling Christmas lights on my street in a fresh, new way. Or maybe I was seeing them in an old way, with the same open wonder I felt when I was five or six. I thought, “So that’s what they mean by ‘and a little child shall lead them….’”[3]

Play Dayna Manning’s version of “It’s In Every One of Us”[4]

Christmas is not in cards, or gifts, or carols, or candles, or trees. Christmas is not a date on the calendar. Christmas is a part of every now and its good news, its promise, is fulfilled in your hearing; is fulfilled in you and every person that lives or has lived. The Spirit is upon you, and you are anointed to proclaim good news. You are Christmas because God has made you so.

Shalom and Amen.

[2] For a copy of the song go to http://www.memphis-umc.org/Library/Documents/weave.pdf

[3] Beverly M. Bartlett, “A Christmas Story,” from Chicken Soup for the Woman’s Soul, (Health Communications Inc. Deerfield Beach, Florida, 1996), pp.205-6

[4] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GdwtZIc8grg