Visions Of Angels, 4

"Visions Of Angels"  (part 4)
Luke 2:8-18


Why were the shepherds afraid?  What was it that they thought they saw?  These may sound like stupid questions, but I’m not so sure.  There was a belief at that time that the spirits of the dead hovered around for a time after their death.  These spirits were called shades.  The shades of the dead had the power to inflict harm on living human beings, especially if the shade was a neglected or abused family member.  Or, if the shade was of someone who was not given the last rites of a proper burial, they would stick around for a time and be generally obnoxious to living family members and friends.  Did the shepherds think they were seeing the shade of some deceased family member, come back to disturb them, and that’s why they were afraid?

Or, did the shepherds think they had come face-to-face with God?  If they were faithful Jews (which shepherds usually weren’t), they would have known that no one can look upon the face of God and live.  At least, that’s what God told Moses.  Is that why they were afraid, because they thought they were seeing God, and were about to lose their lives because they dared look?

Or, did they really know they were being visited by an angel?  The suddenness of it all just caught them off guard?  It had to be a startling experience, to see whatever it was they thought they were seeing.  It was dark.  All of a sudden they were surrounded by bright light.  Singing voices.  And a mysterious message about a Savior baby being born.  Would it be the unexpected appearing of the angel that was most shocking to those shepherds on the hillside that night?  That kind of dramatic suddenness certainly could be very unsettling.

It’s kind of like the story about the guy who was walking through the cemetery one night.  He fell into an open grave.  Try as he may, he couldn’t get out.  He just sat down in a dark corner of the hole waiting for morning when the workmen would come back and get him out.  Well, lo and behold, another guy came along and fell in the same hole.  He also tried, unsuccessfully, to get out.  From a dark corner of the grave came a voice, “You’ll never get out of here.”  But he did.

I would assume that it was that same kind of fright that the shepherds must have been feeling at such an unexpected appearance.

II

“Fear not.”  As I mentioned at the outset of this series, time and time again that message had to be spoken to disciples with shaking knees.  When Jesus came walking across the water, the disciples thought they were seeing a ghost.  Jesus said to them, “Don’t be afraid.”

When the women came to the tomb where Jesus was laid and found an angel there, they were told, “Fear not.”  Evidently that didn’t help much because they eventually met the Risen Lord, and he told them the same thing, “Do not be afraid.”

And right after the time when Jesus’ appearance was changed in the Transfiguration on the mountain top, and he met with Elijah and Moses in that shower of light, Jesus had to come to his disciples, who were praying for their lives, and tell them not to fear.

Isn’t it a strange twist that at the most mysteriously holy events, when God makes himself present and visible in such intentional ways, without any attempt at concealment, the singular reaction is fear?  It must be a characteristic of our humanness that we have become afraid of heavenly messengers.

“Fear not: Good News!”  In the Scriptures, Good News always meets fear.  The problem is we concentrate too much on the fear, and miss the Good News.  We understand the fear part, all too well.  A teacher in Harlem thought it might be a good idea to take his city kids out to the country for a weekend at camp.  One of the first activities they organized was a baseball game.

But nobody wanted to play in the outfield.  The teacher found out the reason:  The outfield butted up to the edge of the woods where all sorts of assumed danger waited to pounce on the children.  So the teacher put two kids in each position in the outfield.  One was to play the position; the other was to watch the woods.  And the game went on.

When the disciples saw Jesus walking on the water, he followed his “fear not,” with the Good News, “It is I.”  When the women were met by the angles at the empty tomb, their “fear not,” was followed by the Good News, “He is risen!”  And to the startled shepherds watching their flocks, the angel’s “Fear not,” was followed with the Good News that “...a Savior has come!”

III

Notice that the Good News of the angel to the shepherds has a double emphasis.  The angel first told them, “I am bringing you good news...”  The angel first singles out the shepherds as the recipients of the Good News.  Here is the personal approach of God’s Good News.  It is not, first, just some mass dose, generic Good News, splashed across the internet for anyone to read.  Instead, the Good News comes to individuals, fitting their own special needs and the place they are in.

(pause) Her small voice penetrated the stillness of the night.  It came from the bedroom across the hall: “Daddy, I’m scared.”
Out of his groggy, fuzzy sleep state, the father responds, “Honey, don’t be afraid; Daddy’s right across the hall.”
After a brief pause her little voice is heard again, “I’m still scared.”
Always with a quick insight, the father responds, “You don’t need to be afraid--God is with you.”
This time the pause was longer, but the voice returns, “I don’t care about God, Daddy; I want someone with skin.”

The Good News, spoken first particularly to the shepherds is that God has come as someone with skin--an ordinary person--so that, as the person Jesus, he knows where we have needs, touching our fears and loneliness with compassion.  Good News!  The Savior has come--just for you!  “I’m bring YOU Good News...” says the angel.

But that’s not all.  The Good News doesn’t come and end just with the shepherds.  The second emphasis of the angel’s message is that the Good News will also be “...to all the people.”  The Good News has to start somewhere, with someone.  The little group of shepherds were the beginning point from which the Good News is then broadcasted outward like seed upon the land.

In his book, Lord Of All Life, Ian Burnett tells that James the Fifth of Scotland would, on occasion, lay aside the royal robe of being king and put on the simple clothes of a peasant.  In such a disguise he was able to move freely throughout the people, making friends with ordinary folks, entering in their particular difficulties, appreciating their handicaps, sympathizing with them in their sorrows.  When he returned to be king again, sitting upon the throne, he was better able to rule with compassion and mercy to all the people.

The second emphasis of the angel’s message of Good News is that God has sent an everyday king to deal with the fear of all people, in all places and at all times.  His work of being King is not only for us individually, but will also affect the whole world.  As God in the flesh first touches the lives of a small number of people, so those who have been touched by him will also pass on that touch to others.

To hear and respond to the “Fear Not: Good News!” of the angel’s message means also responding to a mandate that shines through that Good News.  The Good News is a beacon light to:
...care about human problems that most people ignore.
...speak up for the downtrodden who are powerless to speak for themselves.
...call for forgiveness and compassion when others call for blood.
...give of ourselves without asking, “What’s in it for me?”
...be loyal to the Good News of God when others have sold out to the idols, flim-flam, and narcissism of our present day world.

The Good News of the coming Savior must cause us to do something.  To react in some way.  Otherwise it can never be Good.  It can only be News.  Had the shepherds reacted with ho-hum indifference to the message of the angel--which was a choice available to them--all the wonder, excitement, and joy that has become part of Christmas would have been lost.

In the early 1900’s, Alexander Woolcott described a scene he had witnessed in a New York hospital.  It was around Christmas time.  A grief-stricken mother was sitting in the hospital lounge in stunned silence, tears streaming down her face.  She had just lost her only child in the flu epidemic that was searing its way across our country.  She was gazing blindly into nowhere while the head nurse was trying desperately to console her.  The nurse was not making much of an impact until she saw someone who might help.

“Mrs. Norris, did you notice the shabby little boy cooling his heals in the hall next to your daughter’s room?” asked the nurse.
No, Mrs. Norris hadn’t noticed him.
“There...” continued the nurse, “...there is a case.  That little boy’s mother is a young French woman who was brought in a week ago by ambulance from their run down one-room apartment.  They had immigrated scarcely three months ago.  They had lost all their family back in France and they knew nobody here.  The two had only each other.  Every day that boy has sat there in the hopes that she would awaken and speak to him.”

Mrs. Norris was listening now.  So the nurse went on.  “Twenty minutes ago that little mother died.  She dropped off like a pebble in the boundless ocean.  Now it is my duty to go out and tell that little fellow that, at the age of seven, he is all alone in the world.  That he now has no one and no home.”  The head nurse paused, then said, “I don’t suppose...I don’t suppose that you would go out and tell him with me?”

What happened in the next few moments, wrote Alexander Woolcott, was something that you remember forever.  Mrs. Norris stood up, dried her tears, went out to the hall, across from the room where her daughter had just died, put her arms around the boy, and led the homeless child off to her childless home.  In their sadness and fear, and at a time of each other’s greatest loss, they had become a source of joy and Good News to each other.

Can you imagine such a message--the Good News--being lost on dead ears?  Can you imagine such a visitation being lost on bah-humbugness?  Can you imagine anyone who would not want to jump to their feet at such a message and start running, telling everyone who was met along the way what the angels said? Can you imagine anyone, who once accepted the Good News, but then refused, in any way, to spread that Good News around?

One time when I went up to San Francisco, when I was living in San Jose, I saw a store-front funeral parlor.  Only in San Francisco could you see something like this.  The front windows were covered with sun-bleached, beige colored curtains, that were probably some other color at one time.  In front of the curtains was a sign that read, “SPECIAL:  If you are walking around half dead, we will bury you for half price.”  I don’t know how many people took up the offer.

The fact is, the sign described some people very well.  There are those whose half-dead side is making decisions for their half-alive side.  The Good News is that the dead can be made alive, rather than the the other way around.  The Savior has come to bring life, not death.  He has come to lift us to our feet, from being kept down and nearly half-dead by our fear for so long.

IV

That is the message of joy.  Of infectious joy.  Of, as the angel told the shepherds, a message that is “great and joyful.”

Is the angel’s message of Good News really a great joy?  Or is it not?  If it is not, then maybe we should be afraid, and see no hope in ever being relieved of that fear.  If it is not, then maybe we Christians, as Paul once wrote, are most to be pitied.  Maybe we should just give in to our tears and walk around half dead, and let that half etch its expression on our half alive faces.  If it is not a great joy, then we should just take all the decorations down, and plug our ears to all the singing that’s going on around us.  If it is not a truly great joy, then let us forget about any ideas we might have of Jesus being a Savior.  Let us forget about the possibility of experiencing God’s Good News and grace.  Of ever finding new hope for this life.  If the Good News is not really a “great joy,” then nothing is great.

“Fear not: Good News!”  The Savior has come!  May we find life and “great joy” in this Good News.  Let that Good News blaze forth upon us like an angelic starry night, and then radiating, run out to all the world.

Newtown School Shooting

Thoughts about Newtown, Connecticut School Shooting

Genesis 1:1-2 (MSG).  "First this: God created the Heavens and Earth--all you see, all you don't see.  Earth was a soup of nothingness, a bottomless emptiness, an inky darkness.  God's Spirit brooded...above the...abyss."

I think about that description a lot when we are confronted with an event like the shooting of innocents in Newtown.  I think about the world before God.  A chaotic and disturbing world.  A world where there is nothing by which you can get your bearings.  A world where there is nothing solid upon which to stand.  A world where God has not yet arrived.

God is brooding, but has not acted.  God looms over the chaos, but has not yet landed in it.  God is over-shadowing the darkness, but the darkness doesn't even notice or care.

Then God stops brooding.  God speaks and everything changes.

What is troubling is that the order God brings to the chaos doesn't subdue that chaos.  All the levels of  order that were created by God weren't ironclad.

History becomes an ongoing story of how the chaos keeps leaking out, and God must brood again.  God must hover, and then speak in order to recreate order.  Fill the emptiness, again.  Shine light in the darkness, again.  Make something out of nothing, again.  Give the world a solid place to stand, again.

That's what Advent waiting is all about.  It's that certain understanding that the world is going to hell in a hand-basket, again; that God is brooding over chaos, again; and we wait, crying out to God, "How long?"

Finally God speaks, but not like we expect.  Not with a booming, "Let there be light," but a whisper that says, "Let there be a baby. And let that baby be me."  A most mysterious utterance.  God is going to finally and utterly land in our chaotic world.  Maybe now, with the birth of Emmanuel--God with us--the chaos will be completely overcome.  Our prayers, and maybe even God's prayers, will finally be answered.

But even because of God's entrance into the world, in the baby Jesus, the darkness still has it's day through a man named Herod, who has all the innocent, two-year-old baby boys senselessly slaughtered in a deranged effort to secure his place in the crazy, swirling emptiness.  Even with God birthed into our world, the chaos is not stilled.  Did God realize that simply by enacting His plan of coming into the world, it would cause such a deadly backlash to a town and its two-year-old baby boys?

So we have been saved, by Jesus Christ.  But the chaos is still not completely contained.  Friday it popped out again.  Evil had yet another field day, mostly upon innocent, happy, once alive five and six year old children.  The incongruity of the powerlessness of five-year-old children, cringing before the empty-headed power of evil behind a gun almost slays us, who try to comprehend that gap.  One moment they were alive; the next dead.  How quickly eruptive chaos can make us question, and even despair:  will this pre-God world ever change?

Theologians call this the "yet/not yet" of God.  That "yet" God has acted and is acting, and will act upon the chaos, it is "not yet" over.  The final subjection of evil has "not yet" happened.  God has "not yet" finished the work He began at creation.  "Yet," there will be a day.  There will come a day when all emptiness will be filled with God, all nothingness will disappear in the substance of God, all darkness--even the corners--will be fully illuminated with the light that is God, and all that is bottomless will become the solid rock of God.

As the end of the book of Revelation says:
"Now God's home is with his people!  He will live with them, and he will be their God.  He will wipe away all tears from their eyes.  There will be no more death, no more grief or crying or pain."

With the martyred innocents who crowd around the altar of God in heaven, we add our prayers with theirs, "How long?"

Visions Of Angels, 3

"Visions Of Angels" (part 3)
Matthew 1:18-25


I’m going to attempt to be a psychological sleuth this morning.  In other words, I’m going to try and get inside someone else’s head.  No, don’t worry; it isn’t anybody here.  It’s someone from the Bible.  Namely Joseph.  I’m going to try and figure out what Joseph, almost husband of Mary, was thinking when he was deciding to break off his wedding plans with Mary.

It’s a dangerous and foolish task to try to figure out what someone else is thinking.  Just ask your husband or wife.  The minute you think you know for sure is the minute you don’t know for sure.  It’s easy to make assumptions.  And it’s just as easy to be grossly misled by those same assumptions.  Then all of a sudden you’re in trouble.  Like this guy:

The only person who really knows what’s going on is the person whose head is being examined.   Unless you’re the guy in this cartoon:

To attempt getting inside another person’s head with a person like Joseph who is separated by 2000 years, 4000 miles, and vastly different cultures away, is even more laughable.  Especially when the only historical record we have of Joseph is 12 sentences long.    So despite any disclaimers and rationalizations of what a foolish thing I’m about to do, I’m going to do it anyway.  My imagination often short circuits my reason.  Why shouldn’t it do the same while preaching?

My perspective about Joseph shifted this week.  I have always assumed that Joseph never really bought Mary’s story about an angel’s visit.  I mean, come on.  What self-respecting guy is going to believe that the woman you are engaged to was impregnated by the voice of God?  Guys know how pregnancy happens, and it isn’t by voices.

And Joseph certainly knew it wasn’t his child because he and Mary had never, well, you know.  Sometimes the Palestinian culture allowed espoused couples to sleep together before marriage was officially celebrated.  But Mary was from Galilee.  Galilee was the “Bible Belt” of Palestine.  It was the stronghold of the religious right in the country.  They didn’t allow anything like that in Galilee.  So Joseph knew it couldn’t be his kid that Mary was carrying.  It had to be another man.  That’s the only logical assumption Joseph could have made.  I have always thought, then, that Joseph thought Mary’s explanation was a bunch of hooey.

But there’s a problem.  Why did Joseph try to call off the marriage quietly?  Matthew says Joseph was a “man who always did the right thing.”  Well, if Joseph really believed Mary was carrying the child of another man, the “right thing” would have been to have her stoned to death.  After all, what is right is always right.  That’s the “right” penalty for someone caught in adultery.  Even though they weren’t married, cheating on an espoused mate was adultery just the same.  Why does Joseph, according to Matthew’s gospel, not want to “embarrass Mary in front of everyone” even though she has brought embarrassment and shame upon him and his family?

For a long time I have thought that the reason behind Joseph’s actions was that he really loved Mary.  That there are two right things to do here.  The right thing would have been to have Mary stoned, justice-wise.  But also the right thing would be to go easy on her, love-wise.  That’s the conclusion we came to this past Monday night as we were talking about Joseph at our Christmas Stories discussion group.

Yet, the more I thought about it, even that’s a tough assumption to make.  All marriages, at that time, were arranged by the parents of the young man and woman.  The future husband and wife really had nothing to say in the matter.  Joseph and Mary’s marriage was probably arranged when they were children, or near the time of their marriage.  It was more a financial transaction, between two sets of parents, that had very little to do with love.  The bride and groom hardly ever saw each other until the day of the wedding.

Did Joseph know Mary prior to their arranged marriage?  It’s not clear.  Were they even from the same town?  That’s not clear, but has always been assumed.  The story doesn’t say one way or the other.  But when Joseph had to register for the census, he and Mary had to go to his family’s home town, which was Bethlehem.  So was Joseph from Bethlehem, and was only a visitor to Nazareth?  Or maybe had extended family in Nazareth, and that’s how he and Mary were brought together?  It’s not known.

So that’s the possible problem with my assumption.  The proverbial fly in the ointment.  What if Joseph doesn’t love Mary?  What if love has nothing to do with his motivation to put this marriage aside quietly?  Maybe that’s just our modern day romanticism talking more than 1st century, Middle Eastern reality.

So back to the question:  Why doesn’t Joseph exercise his legal rights and have her stoned to death?  There’s got to be something else going on here, in Joseph’s head.  What is it?  What is he possibly thinking?

While I was thinking about this an angel appeared to me...just kidding.  But I did have one of those, “What if…” insights.  And these “What if…” insights usually lead me to one of what I call, “Wing’s Hair-Brained Ideas.”

Here it is:  What if Joseph believed Mary’s story of an angelic visit and being impregnated by the voice of God?  Remember, this has all happened BEFORE Joseph saw the angel in his dream.  So nothing is confirmed or discounted for him at that point.  Joseph has simply decided to end the marriage, but do it quietly so as not to embarrass Mary.  Is he doing all that because he believes her story?

Let’s assume for a moment that Joseph believed she was visited by an angel.  He believed that the Spirit of God had spoken a creative word, like during creation, and she became pregnant.  He believed that she was going to have a special child--a child formed “unnaturally.”

If that assumption is true, then maybe Joseph knew Mary.  If Joseph actually was from Nazareth, then he might have had an idea about Mary’s character.  If he knew her character, and she was like the Biblical record portrayed her, then he would have known she was a devout and pure person.  If that’s true, then it would have made her explanation even more possible and plausible in Joseph’s mind.  There are some people we know we’d believe, even if they told us a wild-hair story, just because of the depth of their character.  Is that what’s going on in Joseph’s head?

If so, then I’m still stuck.  If Joseph believes Mary, or believes her story, or both, then why is he still deciding to quietly call off the wedding?  Why won’t he go along with the pregnancy, just say it’s his child, and stand by Mary’s side?  He does that eventually.  But it takes an angel in a dream to get him to do that.  Why doesn’t he come to that point on his own?  What is he thinking?

So here comes my giant leap into the unknown mind of Joseph.  Are you ready for this one?

Let me start out by asking a question.  If you were a young couple, and your fiancé or new bride became immediately pregnant, and then you found out this baby was going to be a special child of some sort, what would go through your head?

There are some parents, who because of their age or because of some pre-existing medical condition, have an amniocentesis test.  Doctors can tell a lot from the amniotic fluid that the embryo floats in.  Let’s say the doctor discovers your child will have Downs Syndrome, or will be physically handicapped.  All of a sudden you’re faced with being a different kind of parent.  A parent who will need great strength and patience and love and endurance.  Granted, just being a “normal” parent (whatever normal is) takes all of those qualities.  But it seems to me, from the parents I know with special needs children, they have faced a parenting of a different quality.

If you were a young parent-to-be, and you found out you would be having a special needs child, what would go through your mind?  Wouldn’t there be questions like, “Can I handle this?”  “Am I up to this?”  I would guess financial questions come to the surface later.  I would guess emotional questions and fears rise first and fastest.

Now, let’s insert Joseph into that scheme of things.  If he believes Mary’s story, are some of the same thoughts and questions going through his head?  Is he wondering:
If this is a child born of God, conceived of in a miraculous way, what does that mean for me?
How am I going to be handle this child?
If I don’t totally understand how this child came to be, how am I going to ever understand the child when he is born, and grows?
Am I equipped to handle this child and this situation?

If Joseph feels he’s unable to cope with a God-child he can use the whole hubbub of Mary’s pregnancy for a smoke screen for his own anxiety and insecurity.  He doesn’t mind the thought of being married.  He just isn’t sure he can handle being a father of a mystery child who has God mixed up in the whole process.

So he has a way to take care of the whole mess from his standpoint:  simply ending the marriage plans quietly.  It lets Mary off the hook.  And more importantly for him, it lets him off the hook.  He protects the special child by breaking off the arrangement, rather than having her stoned, which would kill the child as well.  Joseph may have decided, until the angel comes in his dream, that Jesus was just going to be too much for him to handle.

And here’s the personal angle to that question:  Is Jesus too much for us to handle as well?  Joseph wanted to be a spiritual man.  He just didn’t want to be THAT spiritual.  When we first become Christians, we may be initially excited about our believing.  But then we really run into Jesus.  We face all that Jesus is going to demand of our lives.  We begin to, alarmingly, realize what it all means to be a Christian.  We begin to ask ourselves questions like:  Am I strong enough to handle this?  Do I have what it takes to really live the Christian life?  It’s going to take a lot of strength, and patience, and love, and forgiveness, and endurance.  Am I up to it?  Or should I look for some way to quietly back away from Jesus?  Or, How can I make it look like I’m onboard, but I just can’t live up to all the discipline a real relationship with Jesus will ask of me?

The Christ child will ultimately be more than any of us want to handle.  The Christ-man, Jesus, will become even more so.  The angel’s task with Joseph is to reassure him he can do it.  He can live up to the task of being Mary’s husband and Jesus’ earthly father.  It must have worked, because Joseph got right up, after the dream, and did what the angel told him to do.

Maybe, for ourselves, we also need that angelic visitation to reassure us that we can do this.  We can be people of faith.  We can accept Christ into our lives, believe in him and shoulder all the demands and changes that will be asked of us.

This Christmas, we not only pray for the coming of the Christ-child.  We also pray, at the same time, for the angel, who will strengthen us to face Jesus, and the birth of our belief in him.

Visons Of Angels, 2

"Visions Of Angels" 2
Luke 1:26-38


One of the things I like about storytelling, and listening to storytellers, is my fascination for the story itself.  I become gripped by the magic of the moment, when story and storyteller and listener (or reader) become one.  When you read a good book, and you become completely captivated by it, don’t you see yourself being in the story?

I may be reading in bed at night, but I’m not there--in bed.  I’m in the story.  I’m with the characters--a silent watcher.  My imagination places me in the scenery of whatever moment I am at in the story.  When I shut off my iPad and stop reading, I sense that I am at the same time, pulling myself out of the story.  I’m disengaging myself from it.  I can’t wait until the next time I pick up the iPad and start reading again.  I can’t wait to jump back in the scenery--become a part of the story again.  Does anyone else find the same things happens with them as you read a book?

I want the same thing to happen to us as we read the Christmas story.  Some of you have been hearing and reading the story for years.  That familiarity can dull our excitement and fascination about what is going on.  We open the pages of our Bible to the story of the birth in Matthew and Luke.  Then we think, Oh yeah, I’ve read this a hundred times before.  Or, someone stands up to read the verses as they were a moment ago, and you immediately think, Oh yeah, I’ve heard this before.  Your little “fascination switch” goes CLICK to the off position.

Maybe part of the problem of why we don’t get pulled in deeply enough to the story is because the details are so spare.  Some stories we come to love and read over and over.  It’s because we know so many details.  We know what people look like.  We know what they love and feel passionate about.  We know the setting of their lives.  We know details.  We don’t just know generalities.  We know particulars.  That’s what makes stories interesting.  Details feed our imagination.  It’s been said, Life is in the details.  That is certainly true about a good story.

But in the birth story of Jesus, we don’t get much detail.  In this one part of the story, where the angel Gabriel appears to Mary, there is hardly any detail.  For example, what details do we find out about Mary?  We find out that she is a virgin.  We find out that she is engaged to a man named Joseph.  Those two pieces of information are fairly intimate details.  Not many of us go around being introduced with statements like, “Hi; I’d like you to meet so-and-so.  She’s a virgin.”  We probably wouldn’t do that.  But that’s how the Bible introduces us to Mary.  If that one detail doesn’t pull you into the “raciness” of this story, it at least makes you raise your eyebrows.

As far as other details, there aren’t any to grab you.  What does Mary look like?  Anybody know?  We don’t know.  Was she short, tall, plump, or with abs of steel?  Did she have a big nose or a little nose?  Straight or curly hair?  Was she big-boned or frail?  Baby-face or a look of maturity?  Did she get her clothes from Old Navy or Goodwill?  We don’t know.

If you go by most nativity scenes, Mary looks to be in her early 20’s, has brown straight hair, and is as thin as a pencil--even though she just ended a nine month pregnancy.  That’s a miracle in itself, at least according to the nativity scene statues, that she lost all her extra pregnancy weight in a matter of minutes after the birth.

Even though the story itself doesn’t give us much detail, we can deduce a few things.  If she was betrothed to Joseph, it meant she was of marriageable age.  A female of marriageable age in that time in Palestine would have been 14-16 years old.  She would have gone through her first cycle to prove she was ready to bear children.  She wouldn’t have been marriage material to any man if she wasn’t physically ready to have children.  Most girls were married by the time they were 16 years old.  So Mary is a 14 to 16 year old, physically ready to have babies.

Let’s get a visual picture of that.  Brittany Whitson is in that age range, so in Palestine, she is of marriageable age.  Look at Brittany.  She is Mary.  Ted and M’kala, are you ready to let Brittany get married?  Bear a child?  What feelings spring to the surface when you envision Brittany as Mary?  Are you getting into the story now?

How many of you women were 14-16 year old girls at one time in your life?  Can you remember what you were like at that age?  From all the 14 to 16 year old girls I have dealt with over the years in youth groups, I find them to be caught in what I might call a “no-woman’s-land.”  They go back and forth from the conflicting feelings of wanting to remain little girls and, at the same time, desiring to be young women.  One minute they may want to sit on their parents lap, but the next they want all the freedoms adulthood dangles in front of them.  One minute they are acting like children, the next they they are sophisticated know-it-alls.  Back and forth they go.

Imagine that describes Mary.  Caught somewhere between the innocence of childhood and the airs of adulthood.  Even though her marriage to Joseph had been arranged by their parents, a wedding may or may not have been immanent.  It could have been a year or two off, and she would still be free to run with her childhood friends; be carefree.  She wouldn’t have to think about the adult world for some time to come.

But with the angel’s visit, all that changed.  No more childhood.  No more fun and games.  No more running around with friends.  In the blink of an eye, with a whispered word, Mary would be pregnant and in nine months go from childhood, to wifehood, to motherhood.  Ted and M’Kala, look at Brittany and imagine her making that transition in nine short months.  Girls, and women, and parents are you now getting into this story?


But let’s not forget about the angel.  Even though Mary is the main character in this story, the angel is an interesting character we wouldn’t want to leave out.  We met this same angel last week.  His name is Gabriel.  Details came out about him in his meeting with Zechariah.

As you will remember, Gabriel stands right next to God and God’s throne in the heavenly court.  We found out Gabriel creates fear in those to whom he appears.  We found out that Gabriel is a messenger angel, a herald of Good News.  Gabriel is sent by God to create clarity and insight for people about what their mission in life is.  And we found out that Gabriel gets a bit of an attitude when people question his message.

Imagine Gabriel’s task.  Part of his mission was to convince an unmarried 14-16 year old girl to have a baby.  Now here comes the hard part.  By telling Mary that she is going to have a baby, is Gabriel giving her a choice in the matter?  Could Mary have said, “No”?  That is a question that Christian thinkers have speculated about for centuries.  Was Mary the first girl Gabriel had visited?  If there was a choice in the matter, how many doors had Gabriel had slammed in his face?

Imagine Gabriel as a tele-marketer:
“Hi!  My name is Gabriel.  How are you today?”
“Fine.”
“That’s good.  I’m calling as a representative of God in heaven.  I just want to take a minute of your time to tell you about a unique opportunity to be an unwed mother.”
(SLAM of phone being hung up.)  Gabriel scratches that name off the list and dials up the next number.

It’s been thought by many theologians that Gabriel had to have given Mary the chance to say No.  It had to be Mary’s decision.  It had to be an act of her free will.  She had to agree, in her heart, to accept Gabriel’s, and ultimately, God’s, proposal.

Just the thought of that is intriguing, isn’t it?  Was Mary the first and only visit Gabriel had made.  Or was Mary one of many in a long succession of visits?  How many “No’s” had Gabriel heard before he finally found a girl who would yield to his proposition?

Or, did Mary not have a choice?  Was she the one God had chosen, and it was up to Gabriel to talk to her until she gave in or was convinced?  That would have been some task, wouldn’t have it?  To convince a teenaged girl that, basically, she will comply and she has no choice in the matter.  14-16 year old girls: How much do they like to be told you WILL do something whether you like it or not?  Parents of 14-16 year old girls:  How do your young teenagers react when you tell them they WILL do this or that, and there will be NO discussion or negotiation?

If Gabriel had any inkling of what a young teenaged girl was like, maybe he was just as much afraid of being in her presence as she was in his.  There is that saying about rushing in where angels fear to tread.  Maybe that’s especially true about facing a teenaged girl.

One of the other problems facing Gabriel in his negotiation with Mary is that he really can’t offer her any safety nets.  What I mean is this.  The only question Mary asks is how it can happen that an unmarried, unsexually active girl can spontaneously become pregnant.  It’s the same question Zechariah asked Gabriel previously.  How can this be?  Both Zechariah and Mary know how sex and pregnancy works.  And they both ask questions about how it’s supposed to work when it can’t possibly work--each for their own reasons.  Gabriel must have thought, “Oh, boy; here we go again.”

Gabriel assures her it can be done.  He told her that great line at the end of his announcement, “For there is nothing that God cannot do.”  (Evidently Gabriel never went to grammar school to learn about double negatives.)  God can, and will, make pregnancy happen.  If God can create the world with words, God can create life in a woman’s womb with a single word.  But this time Gabriel doesn’t strike Mary silent like he did with Zechariah.  It’s evidently different having to face down a teenage girl vs. an old priest.

But as much as God can do, God can’t protect Mary from other people’s mouths.  Or thoughts.  We will find out next week that her fiancé, Joseph, reacts by wanting to break off the engagement.  We can only imagine the reaction of others, like Mary’s parents.  Imagine your daughter comes home and says, “Mom, Dad, we need to talk.”  You can tell this is going to be one of those, “Uh, oh,” moments.

Or what does Mary and Joseph tell the census worker, once they get to Bethlehem.  Remember they went there to register for the census.

Gabriel has put Mary in an indefensible position.  Does Gabriel tell Mary that?  Does Gabriel let her know she is being set up, not only to have the Savior, but also for a life of unrelenting ridicule and mockery--at least misunderstanding?  Did Gabriel say something like, “It’s going to be tough going for a while, but after everyone figures out what’s happened, there will something called the Catholic Church that will worship you and say prayers to you as the mother of God?

In Gabriel’s recruiting of Mary, it doesn’t appear that he tells her the downside of being the mother of the Savior.  Just the good stuff.  Which is usually the way it goes, isn’t it?  When you interview for a job, no one ever tells you all the garbage you’ll have to deal with.  And we don’t ask questions about those kinds of things either.  We want to know about the “benefits.”  That’s what Gabriel told Mary, leaving the other for her to find out on her own.


To her credit, Mary accepts the mission.  Whether she had a choice or not, she humbly and willingly bows to God’s wishes.  She agrees to be the Savior-bearer to the world.  She agrees to be the one who will suckle the God-child: the one who will be the Savior of us all.

This is a wonderful story.  This is THE STORY.  I hope we find ourselves pulled into that story this Christmas.  We aren’t just onlookers to a wonderful story, but participants--characters in the drama that started literally 2000 years ago with a young teenaged girl and an angel’s visit.

Visions Of Angels, 1

"Visions Of Angels, 1"
Luke 1:5-25


We love angels.  Around this time of year, shops selling Christmas decor are stocked with angels.  You can tell they are angels because they have wings, and usually halos.  And the popular angels in the shops are mostly cherubic children--or even infants.  Like Precious Moments angels in baby blues and pinks.  Holy innocents.  Certainly not the flaming sword-wielding, demon crushing militants, as the Bible describes angels.  That won’t do at Christmas time.  Those wouldn’t sell very well.

Nor do any of the angel figurines in Christmas shops look like frumpy old Clarence--who I mentioned in last week’s sermon--the angel in the movie, “It’s a Wonderful Life.”  Nor are the angels like the ones in TV shows like the once popular, “Touched By An Angel.”  Not too many African American, female angels; or ones with British accents.  They’re all porcelain white, and quite harmless looking.  Nothing that you would fall down on your face in deathly fear before, as people in the Bible did when they saw a real angel.

It’s interesting to me that as disbelief in God is on the rise in our country, belief in angels is also on the rise.  Especially belief in personal, guardian angels.  I’m not sure how to make sense of that, other than people like the idea of angels, but not the idea of God.  Maybe people think of angels as going about doing good, but that possibly God is less trustworthy in the “good” department.

What do we really know about angels?  As I’ve been getting at, more people get their sense of the angelic from gift shops, folklore, fiction, and popular media than anywhere else.  There are some church teachings about angels, but even some of that is kind of sketchy.  In Catholic theology there are seven ranks of angels, kind of like in the military.  I’m not sure how they came up with that.  It’s kind of funny imagining the angels marching around heaven saluting each other with their wings.  (Is it two feathers, or three?)

Most of what we know about angels comes from the Bible.  Most of these instances are in individual sightings, visions, and dreams.  That’s what we will take a look at on the four Sunday’s in Advent.  Angel visitations in the Christmas story.  There are five such visitations.  I will look at four of them:  the visits to Zechariah, Mary, Joseph, and the Magi.  This morning, the angel visitation to Zechariah.


First, we have to know Zechariah and Elizabeth’s story.  Zechariah and Elizabeth have been a faithful couple into their old age.  In fact, they aren’t just faithful, they are super faithful!  Zechariah is one of the high priests serving in the temple.  He’s got the religion thing all figured out.  Not only was he religious--he was “blameless.”  No one could blame him for anything.

Unlike Calvin in the cartoon, “Calvin and Hobbes.”  Calvin is so full of blame, he tries to spread some around.  Like in this strip:

Zechariah wasn’t that kind of person.  It’s hard to imagine a blameless person.  Most of us are more like Calvin.

Elizabeth also had a strong religious background.  Her family line traced itself back to the first High Priest in Israel’s history--the great High Priest, Aaron.  So she’s got the best family pedigree, and married to one of the high priests.  Elizabeth is firmly entrenched in old line religion.

Now comes the tension.  Verse 7:
But they did not have children.  Elizabeth could not have any, and both Zechariah and Elizabeth were already old.

Despite the fact that this couple was blameless, faithful, had reached the furthest height of religious activity, and had the most stellar bloodline--despite all that, they had no children.  According to the story, it was Elizabeth’s fault.  Too bad they didn’t have the elaborate fertility testing we have in our day.  Elizabeth may not have had to bear the stigma as the barren woman, and therefore carry the guilt.

Because it’s not just that she could not have children.  What was worse was the meaning that was attached to childlessness.  They called it barrenness.  The meaning that the woman carried was that she had sinned and God was punishing her by not allowing her to have children.  By making her “barren.”

What a disgrace for Elizabeth to have to bear.  That’s what she called it, AFTER the angel visited and she became pregnant:  “The Lord has taken away my disgrace,” Elizabeth says (1:25).

The question then becomes, how could a blameless, righteous, priestly couple be barren and under God’s punishment?  Why do disgraceful things happen to such good people?  Either this couple wasn’t blameless; or, God wasn’t punishing them with barrenness.  Sometimes it has nothing to do with God.  Sometimes life just doesn’t work like we think it’s supposed to.

The final nail in the coffin for Zechariah and Elizabeth was they were old.  Time was up.  The biological clock wasn’t slowing down.  It had come to a full stop.  No more chances to redeem the “disgrace.”  No more time to change the meaning of their story.


By a roll of the dice, Zechariah is chosen to go into the Holy of Holies, the innermost, the most sacred part of the temple, the place where God sits, to burn incense and pray.  By a roll of the dice!  Zechariah won the religious duty lottery!  His powerball number came up.  But is it just by chance?  Is there more going on here than a simple roll of the dice?

The other priests tie a rope around Zechariah’s waist before he goes in.  They do this incase he died in there.  No one else wanted to go in there in case they saw God and died too.  If Zechariah died in the presence of God, they could pull on the rope and slide old Zechariah’s body out of there.  He pulls the curtain aside a little and walks in.

Does Zechariah expect much of anything to happen?  Same old thing.  Priest goes in, lights the incense, prays for the people, walks back out, unties the safety rope.  No big deal.

And we, when we’re getting ready for church--what are we expecting to happen during worship?  Frank or the other ushers don’t tie a rope to anybody when you walk in the front door.  Do we not expect to see something of the awesome presence of God?  What are we expecting will happen?  Say our prayers.  Sing some songs.  Hear some Good News.  Go home.

How are we Zechariah?  Privileged to enter the sanctuary every Sunday.  We don’t even have to roll the dice.  But is there awe-filled anticipation?  Do we wonder, “Is an angel going to show up this morning?”  It’s in the ordinary, routine of our day, even the routine of worship, that God breaks in and angels appear.  It isn’t when we want them or expect them.

And angel does so for Zechariah.  Notice the first reaction of Zechariah:  abject fear.  And the first thing the angel says, “Don’t be afraid…”  It’s the same thing the angel at the empty tomb on Resurrection morning says to the women, “Don’t be afraid.”  This should tell us something about real angels.  The first thing they evoke is fear.  Which lets us know real angels are nothing like Precious Moments figurines.

Secondly, the angel tells Zechariah, “Your prayers have been heard.”  It’s the prayer he and Elizabeth had been praying to have a child.  Remember I said last week, the priest carries the people into the presence of God.  Zechariah was supposed to be doing that, but had also been carrying in himself and Elizabeth’s prayer--their personal prayer to God.

When the angel tells Zechariah his prayers had been heard, was the angel talking about just then?  Or, all the years and years and years previously that Zechariah was uttering those prayers.  Remember Zechariah and Elizabeth were “advanced in years.”  So had they kept praying, or had their praying really stopped long ago?  If so, why now?  Why the angel now?  Why when hope and Elizabeth’s womb stopped working?

And so the conversation between Zechariah and the angel Gabriel begins.  The word in Greek for angel is euangelion.  It means a herald.  But not just a herald--a herald who brings Good News.  Not just news.  Good News.

But look how Zechariah responds to the Good News.  He and Elizabeth will now be parents.  (Whoopee)  Their son will be the forerunner to the Savior of the world.  (Oh, nice)
“How can I be sure of this?” is Zechariah’s first words in response to Gabriel’s good news.
Then comes the first uncomfortable pause from Gabriel.  “This guy wants it in writing,” Gabriel is thinking to himself.  You’ve got to remember who Gabriel is.  We find out in Gabriel’s retort to Zechariah, that this is not just any angel.  This is not Clarence trying to earn his wings.  This is an angel who stands beside God in Heaven.  Gabriel must be thinking:
Do you know who I am?
Do you know where I stand in Heaven?
Do you know who sent me here?
Do you know what kind of news this is?

Those are the rhetorical kinds of questions you don’t mess with.  Like in the book, Lessons Kids Learn, one of the lessons is, “When your dad says, ‘Do I look stupid to you?’ don’t answer.”

That’s the position Zechariah was in, facing the angel Gabriel.  To not believe an angel who stands beside God in Heaven is to not believe God.  If you doubt the message and the messenger, you doubt the one who sent the messenger.  In this case, God  When an angel talks, you listen.  Evidently Zechariah didn’t learn that in priest school.  Which is the humorous irony of this dialogue--a priest gets visited by an angel and doesn’t get it.  His prayers have finally ben answered, and he doesn’t believe it.

Then to further the insult, Zechariah says to Gabriel, “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m old!  And have you gotten a good look at my wife?  She’s old!  Nothing works anymore.  God’s timing is all messed up.”

That’s followed by Gabriel’s second uncomfortable pause.  Gabriel can hardly believe this priest’s disbelief.  Makes you wonder what Gabriel’s expectations were for this conversation.  A lot of glow must have gone out of Gabriel’s halo.  All it took was one human being.  One old man.  One priest, who doesn’t get it and ruins Gabriel’s day.

Gabriel’s patience and understanding, not to mention his initial excitement comes to an end.  He pushes the mute button on Zechariah’s remote control so he can’t say another stupid thing.  No more talking for Zechariah until the birth.  Zechariah is fortunate all he got was the silencer.  Because, like I’ve been saying, Gabriel’s no cutsey novelty store angel who just goes along with anything you do.

Everything goes just as Gabriel heralded it.  John, who becomes John the Baptist is born to the aged Zechariah and Elizabeth.  Gabriel headed back to heaven to stand next to God; that is, until God sends him on another encounter with a human--this time the girl, Mary.  Next week, we’ll see if Gabriel fares any better with Mary, than he did with Zechariah.

I Want You For The Priesthood

"I Want You For The Priesthood"
Revelation 1:4-8


You are all priests.  You probably don’t feel like priests.  You may not have ever thought of yourself as a priest.  And you may not want to be priests.  But you are all priests.  You haven’t gone to seminary.  You haven’t taken the Standard Ordination Exams.  You haven’t taken ordination vows.  You haven’t been installed in a church.  The Presbyterian denomination, or any other denomination for that matter, doesn’t recognize your priesthood.  But you are all priests.

You don’t wear the priest’s collar shirt.  You don’t wear special robes or vestments when you come to church.  You don’t have on big priests crosses, or other liturgical jewelry.  You don’t wear those funny hats some priests wear.  But you are all priests.

Most of you have never had to preach a sermon or lead worship.  You haven’t baptized anyone or presided at Holy Communion.  You haven’t performed a marriage or funeral service.  You may do some informal advice giving to family and friends, but you’ve never heard a confession or done any formal counseling.  You may have never been a spiritual director for someone.  But you are all priests.

“When did this happen?” you may be asking.  It happened the day you gave your life to Christ as Savior.  The day you accepted the fact that Jesus Christ freed you from your sin, forgave you of all the times you passively and aggressively avoided God and God’s will, is the day you became a priest.

Kind of scary, isn’t it?  You thought you were just becoming a Christian.  You thought you were only committing yourself to being a simple believer in the Lord.  But I’m happy to inform you, there was more happening than that.  The act of giving your life to Christ was also your ordination service, so-to-speak, and your entrance into the priesthood.

How many of you knew that?  How many of you know exactly what that means?  How many of you know what a priest does, according to the Bible, so that you know what YOU are supposed to do as a priest?

Well, let’s go through the job description for a priest.  John, in these opening verses in Revelation said that Jesus freed us from our sins so that we--all of us--could serve God as priests.  If that’s true, if you are all priests, then you need to know what that means for how you are to act.  You need to know how the fact of your priesthood should shape your self-image.

First, the priest represents all the believers before God.  When the priest went into the temple to worship and pray to God, he went in not just as himself.  When you come to worship, you probably have the sense that you are basically just bringing yourself--you have come representing only yourself.  But the priest comes into the sanctuary as a representative of the people.

So when the priest prays, he is praying as if he is the mouthpiece for all other pray-ers.  He didn’t talk to God as if he were the only one speaking.  It was like the people were also having conversation with God through the priest.  What a difference this makes in our praying and worshipping.

Some people don’t know how to pray.  Like the little boy who was saying his bedtime prayers:  “Dear God, I’m not praying for anything for myself; just a bike for my brother that I can ride too.”  Some people’s motives get all mixed up in prayer.  Some people want and need to pray for themselves but don’t exactly know how to put the words together to do that.  They need a priest to help them give voice to their groaning.

Bishop Simpson was a person who just played around the boarders of the Christian faith  Sometimes there are people who are narthex believers--they hang around in the narthex but never quite make it into the sanctuary, into the holy presence of God.  That’s the kind of person Bishop Simpson was.

But one time he came home from college on a break.  He decided to go to a revival meeting his church was holding.  He watched as a group of young men went forward and gave their lives to Christ.  Simpson thought that he had already done that, but didn’t feel the emotional fervor those young men were feeling as they made their commitment to Jesus Christ.

He watched as one of that group of young men held back.  The young man was standing near the railing.  It was clear he was wrestling with the possibility of becoming a Christian.  Simpson came up behind the young man, laid his hand on the man’s shoulder and asked him if he’d like to go forward for prayer.  The young man replied he would go if Simpson would go with him.

Together the two men went to the altar and knelt in prayer.  Simpson said a prayer for the young man.  But in that prayer, in which Simpson was carrying the young man who didn’t know how to pray for himself, Simpson was also touched by the holy presence of Christ.  Simpson ended up praying for both of their souls at that meeting, dedicating the young man and himself to Christ and the work of the church.  Bishop Simpson went on to finish college and become one of the great Methodist preachers of the gospel.

That night, Bishop Simpson fulfilled his role and function as priest.  He prayed a prayer that encompassed his life and the life of another who didn’t exactly know how to pray, and needed someone else to do that.  By so doing, it had a profound effect on both of their lives.

In similar ways, the priest approaches God, carrying the people with them, saying for them what they have a hard time saying themselves.  Things like, “I’m sorry,” prayers; or “Thank you” prayers.  Or, “Wow!” prayers.

Generally, the priest is someone who is comfortable in the presence of God.  Most people don’t feel comfortable in the presence of God.  The quietness is unsettling.  They don’t know if they’ve been heard.  Not hearing much in reply is frustrating.  But we as priests have become comfortable with God.  We move in and out of God’s presence daily.  We are relaxed in the quietness of God. Our ears are tuned to the still small voice of God who speaks deeply to our soul and spirits.  As a priest, that is one of your main roles and functions.


Another role and function of the priest is an unidentical twin to the first.  The priest represents God to the people.  The priest demonstrates the character and purposes of God in their own person.  Therefore, the priest drives both directions on the street of holiness.  The priest represents the people before God, and the priest represents God before the people.

This can cause an identity crisis.  Most people have a hard enough time representing themselves before others.  We struggle with our own sense of what kind of character we are.  We live aimlessly, trying to discover what our purpose in the world is supposed to be.  How can we portray God’s character and purpose in our lives when we may not even have a grasp of what our character and purpose is?  The answer is that we find ourselves in God’s self.

The opening chapters in Genesis tell us that we are made in the image of 
God.  There is something of the likeness of God built into every one of us.  It stands to reason that we can only find ourselves by tapping into that image of God that is “in there” somewhere.  Only by finding God will we find ourselves.  Only by portraying that God-likeness that is in us will we be portraying our truest self.

A large part of what is at the heart of the character and purpose of God is serving.  Jesus, when he washed the disciple’s feet, told them that his main role was that of a servant of others.  He told them that that was to be their role and function as well.  The apostle Paul always addressed his letters with the words, “From Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ…”  Here in these verses that open up Revelation, where John says that Jesus has made us priests of God, notice the word he uses:  “...who has made of us a royal house to serve as the priests of his God and Father…”

One of the problems Paul and the first evangelists faced was that the message of serving Christ and serving others was repugnant to Greek culture.  To the Greeks, service was undignified.  Something that was built into the Greek psyche was that people were born to rule, not to serve.  A person served only if it promoted them to a place of authority.  To always be serving others meant those others were ruling over you.  It was a hard message to hear that Christ had come to make any believer into a priest, but by being a priest, that meant servanthood, not authority.

I think our culture isn’t too different from the Greek culture Paul faced.  We also undervalue and underestimate the holiness of serving.  It won’t be long before the Christmas movie classic, It’s a Wonderful Life will be airing on TV.  It’s a great story starring Jimmy Stewart about a man who had used his life serving others, but didn’t think it made any difference in anyone’s life.  A frumpy angel by the name of Clarence gives him the chance to see what his town would be like if he had never lived.  It was a profound statement about the powerful effect on life could have when they take priestly serving seriously.

Mother Teresa wrote:
If I had not first picked up the woman who was being eaten by rats--her face, and legs and so on--I could not have been a Missionary of Charity...Whatever you do, even if you help somebody across the road, you do it for Jesus.  Even giving someone a glass of water, you do it for Jesus.  Such a simple teaching, but it’s more and more important...In the work we have to do, it does not matter how small and humble it may be, make it Christ’s love in service.

To be a priest in this respect is to find your identity in serving.  Serving is at the very heart of God.  It’s part of the image we share with God.  If you serve as a priest of God, representing God before people, it will be in the identity and integrity of a servant.

Victor Daley, and Australian poet, was being cared for in a Catholic hospital while he was dying of cancer.  One of his last acts was to thank the nurses for all their kindness to him.  “Don’t than us,” the nurses said.  “Thank the grace of God.”
With holy perception, Daley replied, “But aren’t you the grace of God?”

In serving others, we are the grace of God.  We are demonstrating the image of God.  We are, as priests, representing God t the people in the holiest ways of service.


You are all priests.  I know you don’t feel like priests.  Now that I have explained a little about what a priest is, you many not feel up to being a priest.  But the truth is, you are all priests whether you feel like it, or whether you want to be or not.  It is your role and function to represent the people before God.  When you go into the presence of God in prayer and worship, you carry the people of God with you.  And you represent God to the people.  In your attitude and character of serving, you demonstrate to others who God is.

Welcome to the priesthood.

Mitey Giving

"Mitey Giving"
Mark 12-37-44


I can’t figure it out.  Why did the poor widow do what she did?  The REB says, “...with less than enough, she has given all she had to live on.”  The TEV says, “...poor as she is, she put in all she had.”  And, from The Message, “...she gave what she couldn’t afford -- she gave her all.”

It has been speculated that the coins were the wedding coins a woman was given when she got married.  A number of coins were woven into a head-band sort of thing, and worn around her forehead at her marriage ceremony.  These coins were an insurance policy of sorts in case her husband died.  A woman was totally financially dependent on her husband, and had no other way to earn money, other than the money her husband earned.  So if he died, she would have no way to earn money.

I remember a tearful news conference, when the PTL ministries and Jimmy and Tammy Fae Bakker were going under.  Tammy Fae was pouring out her heart because they were down to their last $100,000 and she didn’t know how she and Jimmy were going to survive.  I guess what it means to be down to your last two coins means different things to different people.

We know the woman in Mark’s story is a widow.  Jesus identifies her as such.  Are these two coins she is holding her last two “insurance” coins, given to her at her wedding?  She could have kept one.  Should she have kept one?  No one would have thought less of her if she did.  The literal Greek translation of the verse I just highlighted a moment ago, says:  “She gave her whole life.”  Why?  Why would she do that?

There is the story of the millionaire who was sitting in church.  He got up to give his testimony and he said, “I owe the millions I have today to a certain experience I had in church long ago.  I was down to my last dollar.  The offering was being taken up.  As the plate was nearing my row, I had a decision to make.  Was I going to give up that last dollar for the Lord, or hold on to it along with the last shred of security it symbolized?  The offering plate came to me and I joyfully put in the last dollar I had to my name.  I gave it all.  The Lord honored that, and has blessed me greatly since that day; all because I was willing to give all I had.”
At that point, a woman in the back stood up and said, “I dare you to do it again.”

This widow did.  She dared do it.  We know so little about her.  We only know she is a widow.  And she is poor.  Is she a young widow?  Or an older widow?  Does she have children, grandchildren, or not?  We can only guess.

II
And we can only guess why she gave “her whole life.”  With so little detail, we are only left to our own speculations as to what motivated her to do what she did.  Here are some possibilities.

Maybe the widow gave out of her THANKFULNESS to God.  When asked why they give to the church, why they put money in the offering plate, people give this is as the number one reason:  because they are thankful to God.  Maybe, despite how her life has turned out, the widow has never lost the hand of God’s care.  Even when down to her last two coins, she may be acting out of trusting thankfulness.  If I were in her shoes, (I would be a lot smaller), but I might be tempted to think God isn’t caring about me very much.  Not her.

Or, maybe the widow is putting her last two coins in because she’s BARGAINING with God.  Maybe she wanted something from God, and was trying to get what she wanted through this risky form of a bribe.  Like the millionaire in the story I told a moment ago, maybe she’s saying to God, “If I put my last two cents in, then you will have to take care of me; you will have no other choice.”

Or maybe she’s giving all she has out of GUILT.  Is she feeling guilty about something she had done in her life and is trying to show God how repentant she is by putting her last two coins in the offering horns in the temple?

In William Shakespeare’s play, Macbeth, Macbeth’s wife is suffering from the awful effects of guilt.  Out of hopelessness and despair, Macbeth begs the doctor to cure his wife of her guilt.  Macbeth cried out:

Cure her of that.
Can you not minister to a mind distressed,
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,
Burn out the written troubles of the brain
And with some sweet antidote
Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?

Maybe the widow is suffering from just that kind of guilt, and is trying to find any way she can to rid herself of it, even if it means giving up her last two coins.

Or maybe the widow was just IMPULSIVE.  Maybe she did a lot of things without thinking about the consequences.  There are people like that, who don’t have good control over their impulses, and just do stuff without thinking.  They don’t think about the consequences their actions will have on themselves, and others who depend on them and love them.  Maybe the widow just had poor impulse control issues.

Whatever the reason for her actions, it is hard to understand why a poor widow would give up all she had to live on, and put it in the big brass horns in the temple.

III
Maybe we’re looking at this story the wrong way.  Let’s get ourselves in the picture.  There were seven horn-shaped receptacles in the temple treasury.   The offering collected in these brass receptacles went for the temple upkeep and for the cost of performing certain religious rituals.

People would come up and put in their coins (there was no paper money back then) with a clang and a bang.  The courtyard was probably crowded.  People were coming and going from the offering horns.  We almost get the impression that this was a common pastime of watching people put in their offering.  Jesus was just fitting himself in with the crowd of offering watchers.

But what was he watching, exactly?  He’s sitting across from the offering horns.  He had just given the crowd there a warning about the religion scholars and how they act.  Listen, again, to what he told the people about those religious peacocks:
Watch out for the teachers of the Law, who like to walk around in their long robes and be greeted with respect in the marketplace, who choose the reserved seats in the synagogues and the best places at feasts.  They take advantage of widows and rob them of their homes, and then make a show of saying long prayers.  Their punishment will be worse!” (TEV)

Jesus is making a contrast between the religious showmanship and unethical actions of the religionistas vs. the poor they manipulate and steal from.  The Greek literally means, these teachers of the Law were “eating up the property of the widows.”  Isn’t it interesting, then, that in the next scene, it is a poor widow who comes in and puts in her last two coins.  She is the one that Jesus identifies for his disciples.  She is the one he wants to make sure his disciples, and maybe many others sitting around, doesn’t miss.

IV
By pointing her out, Jesus is adding a huge punctuation mark to what he just said to all the people about those who were being taking advantage of by the religious establishment.  The key question that Jesus may want his followers to struggle with is NOT, “Why does the poor widow give her last two cents?”  The key question instead, may be, “Why does the poor widow only have two coins left to her name?”  What or who has forced her into these kinds of circumstances?

Jesus pointed out the wealthy who “gave what they’ll never miss.”  I get the idea, because of what he said to the crowds prior to his people watching at the treasury, that Jesus is not just talking about proportional or sacrificial giving.  He certainly makes that point -- that the poor widow, in proportion, gave much, much more than the wealthy who put in a lot of money.  But because of his comments that set up this scene, Jesus may also be trying to get his listeners to ask the question, “How did the moneybags get all their over abundance of wealth in the first place?”  How many widows did they step on, how many widow’s homes did they take away, or,  how much widow’s property did they “eat up” in order to get their ungodly amount of money?

Again, the question is not why the widow gave everything away?  The question is, “Who is doing what to the widow that reduced her to the point of having so little?”


V
But there is an even deeper level than that one, it seems to me.  There is a further question that Jesus is forcing his disciples to consider by calling them over and speaking privately to them about the widow’s giving.  And that question is, “Who is ALLOWING the widow to be taken advantage of?”  Who is standing by and doing nothing while the widow’s rights are being taken advantage of by the religious leaders, and she is reduced to two coins that she slides together between her fingers, standing before the offering trumpets, and finally throws them both in?  “Who would allow such a thing to happen, and keep happening?” Jesus is asking the disciples.

Jesus was in open praise of the widow.  But his praise was a back-handed slap at the hypocrites who gave large amounts of money, unjustly gained, for the temple upkeep, while neglecting the real human needs right there in front of their faces -- some of those needs which they, the rich, created.

The widow was so poor because she was getting eaten up by the fat cats and then neglected by the religious system that was only concerned about keeping its building shiny and its impotent rituals going.  Everyone ooohed and aaahed at the coins being poured in.  But no one asked the question about how the wealth was gained (except Jesus); or pointed out the human injustice (except Jesus); nor pointed out the human neglect in the distribution of that offering (except Jesus).

VI
All of a sudden, just putting money in the plate has much greater weight than just taking up a few minutes in the worship service.  Putting money in the plate has to do with our motivations for giving.  Putting money in the plate has to do with the manner in which it is given.  Putting money in the plate has to do with how it is that we are gaining that wealth in the first place.  Putting money in the plate has to do with making sure that nothing we’ve done, in our accumulation, has stepped on or taken advantage of helpless others.  Putting money in the plate has to do with making sure that we don’t just give, but that we are paying attention to those around us -- especially the down-and-out -- who are rubbing their last two coins together, and making sure that they are being taken care of, rather than having to make the awful choice of sacrificing everything.

Because Jesus is watching.

Ockham's Razor

"Ockham's Razor"
Mark 12:28-34


William of Ockham was a philosopher back in the early 1300’s.  The school of philosophy to which he subscribed and attempted to perfect was called “reductionism.”  Basically, what a reductionist does, when faced with an issue or a problem, is to reduce that issue to its simplest form.  You don’t get caught up in a lot of details.  Those details, that minutia might lead you astray.  You don’t add on layers to a problem in trying to solve it, thereby making it more complex.  You don’t pay any attention to all the sidecar issues that arise in the problem-solving process.  Instead, you cut away all the extraneous stuff in order to get to the heart of the matter.  Reduce things down to their simplest form.  That is where you will find the truth, according to Ockham’s way of thinking.

Lucy has a way of doing that for all her friends, but mostly for Charlie Brown.  In one strip, Charlie Brown is looking morose, with a wrinkled forehead and downcast eyes.  He’s leaning over a wall, staring off into nowhere.  Lucy approaches him and says, “Discouraged again, eh Charlie Brown?”
No answer.
Lucy continues.  “You know what your trouble is?  The whole trouble with you is that you are YOU!”  Lucy has reduced all of Charlie Brown’s issues, all his troubles, and worries into one simple, but inclusive statement.
Charlie Brown then turned to Lucy and asked, “Well, what in the world can I do about that?”
To which Lucy’s forehead wrinkles, and she replies, “I don’t pretend to be able to give advice...I merely point out the trouble!”

I don’t know what Lucy calls her brand of reductionism, but Ockham called his, “Ockham’s Razor.”  He would attempt to cut away the meaningless layers of argumentation, and find the heart and soul of an issue.  Once that is discovered, unlike Lucy, Ockham felt the solution would be simple and affect all the other issues that were heaped upon it, like so many clothes draped over a bedroom chair that you can’t even see the chair anymore.

Ockham’s detractors called him and his ideas too simplistic.  They felt that the issues and problems we face in life were too large to be reduced to simple terms.  They are too complex.  Life itself is too complex to be reduced from pages to mere sentences, as it were.  Ockham’s philosophy was ridiculed as something for simpletons, whose minds couldn’t grasp the great complexities of life.

What I’d like to do this morning is apply Ockham’s Razor to the church.  But not only William of Ockham’s, but more powerfully, Jesus Christ’s razor.  Jesus’ has a much better ability to cut away at the fat and excess of religion, helping us discover in any time what is the heart and center of our beliefs.  Christianity, under Jesus’ razor, is at its most simple and yet most potent and profound form.

Let’s turn our attention back to what was read from Mark 12.  Jesus is fielding and responding to a question pitched at him by one of the teachers of the Jewish religion.

But we need to take one further step back to see what was happening just before that question was asked.  There was another group of Jewish teachers called Sadducees.  They didn’t believe, in opposition to the Scribes, that there was eternal life with God.  Jesus had been teaching about that topic.

This group of Sadducees came to Jesus with an inane question:  It was the law that if a man married a woman and then he died, his brother was supposed to marry the widow and take care of her and any children she had.  So the Sadducees asked, What happens if a woman marries into a family with seven brothers; all of them die in turn, leaving her to the next brother in line.  When she gets to the heavenly kingdom, whose wife is she going to be?

The response of Jesus to their question leads us to believe that these Sadducees felt their question was of great importance.  It was like if they found out the answer, one of the great mysteries of the universe would be solved.  Nights of worry could end, and the Sadducees could finally get some sleep.

The Scribe--the teacher of the law--had been listening to all this, probably with some amusement at the inflated level of importance to which the Sadducees had raised this issue.  Finally, he cut in with his Ockham’s Razor type question:  “Which commandment is the most important of all?”  That is, “Let’s cut through all this fat and religious gas that is ultimately meaningless, and get down to what’s most important.  In simplest terms, Jesus, what is really expected of us?”

Jesus’ answer:
The first in importance is, “Love the Lord God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence and energy.”  And here is the second: “Love others as well as you love yourself.”  There is no other commandment that ranks with these.  (EHP)

I believe that one of the greatest problems that is faced by the church at large, and congregations in particular is that they are asking and acting upon Sadducee types of questions, rather than the Scribe’s type of question.

Instead of asking questions that get at the simple heart of the matter concerning our mission and goals, we ask the trivial, that serves only to get us lost in the layers of meaningless complexity.  The whole organization of the church and individual congregations is developed around pursuing the trivial and the inconsequential, elevating it way beyond its own level of importance.

I have turned, at different times in my ministry, to the book, In Search of Excellence.  If you’re not familiar with it, it is a book that investigated our nations most successful companies, trying to discover what made them so.  The researchers hit upon seven principles that were found in each company.  One of those principles they called, “Simple Form, Lean Staff.”  Listen to a few of the statements the author’s make:

Along with bigness comes complexity, unfortunately.  And most big companies respond to complexity in kind, by designing complex systems and structures.  They then hire more staff to keep track of all this complexity, and that’s where the mistake begins …
On the other hand, making an organization work has everything to do with keeping things understandable for the people who must make things happen.  And that means keeping things simple …
The organization gets paralyzed because the structure not only does not make priorities clear, it automatically dilutes priorities.  In effect, it says to people down the line:  “Everything is important; pay equal attention to everything.”  That message is paralyzing. (pg. 306-308)

The authors then make a telling statement that capsulizes their thoughts about how the successful companies keep their organization simple:  “One dimension--e.g. product or geography or function--has crystal clear primacy.”

We in the smaller sized congregations have it easier in keeping the organization clear, without too many extraneous layers.  But we, like larger congregations, and the denomination as a whole, have just as much of a problem keeping priorities clear.  We fall into the trap, as the authors point out, of trying to chase after too many priorities at once, telling our people that all these priorities are of vital importance, thereby diluting what is of ultimate importance and confusing everyone who is carrying on the work of the church.

In order to avoid becoming like the Sadducees, dominating by asking too many of the wrong kinds of questions, we need to land ourselves on those singular dimensions of our work which will have crystal clear primacy over everything we do.  We need to hear the question asked by the Scribe, and we need to hear Jesus’ answer.  Above our Lord’s answer there’s nothing more important.  And everything we do much fall in line with his answer.

In simplest terms, and in its simplest form, our faith and ministry must be guided by these two primary commandments:  Love God with everything that is you; and, love your neighbor as you love yourself.  Anything else must be cut away.  All that we do in ministry must be able to be reduced to these two common denominators.  And everything we plan for our future must have it’s starting point and motivation from these two statements of Jesus.


Peter Drucker in his book, The Effective Executive wrote that, “Effective executives do first things first and they do one thing at a time...This is the secret of those people who do so many things and apparently so many difficult things.  They do only one at a time.”

Stephen Covey in his book, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People devoted a whole section of his book to this important fact.  He pointed out that even great musicians such as Bach and Handel could only devote their energies to one piece of music at a time.

Such is the case of Christian ministry as well.  We will find it more productive to focus on certain areas of ministry that need taking care of rather than trying to do something in every area at once.  The way to prioritize is to be guided by the two most important commandments of loving God with all that we are, and loving our neighbor as we love ourselves.

Prioritizing like this, and concentrating on just a couple of areas of ministry may be counter intuitive, or at least feel like it goes against the grain of our multi-tasking society.

It’s like the college student who rushed into the office of his faculty advisor just after mid-terms.  “I need help, bad,” he said, plopping down in a chair.
“What’s your trouble?” the advisor asked.
The student replied, “I just made four F’s and a D.
“Well, what’s your explanation for that?” the advisor asked.
The student said, “I spent too much time on that one subject.”

In our multi-tasking culture, it’s the person who can do so many things at once who is being held up as the ideal.  But in that chase, our culture has also lost the ability to distinguish between the real and the unreal, the necessary and the unnecessary, the important and the trivial, the relevant and the irrelevant.  Along with that comes the growing awareness that in all our business we are utterly lost in a forest of tasks.  And nothing of any substance is getting done.  We’re flunking all our subjects.

If only we could stop, and be still, if for just an instant.  If only we could stop the ceaseless business that goes along with covering too many bases that don’t need to be run.  If only we could silence the ongoing chatter and jabber that comes with doing too much that doesn’t matter and no one really cares about.  If only we could cut through all the deceptive illusions and let the real seep in.  If only we could choose that which could enter our souls and meet those deep places within.  If only we would concentrate on loving God with all that we are, and loving others as we love ourselves.

But that won’t happen until all else is cut away, and we feel the barrenness of our need for that which really matters.