Jesus was born into a dangerous and unpredictable world

As we wind up Christmas this week, we are reminded that the world Jesus was born into is a dangerous and unpredictable world. Jesus’ mere appearance, even as a helpless infant, reveals the conflict between good and evil and the lengths God goes to both defeat evil and rescue us from sin—and the lengths evil will go to maintain its hold on us and creation.  So, in this conflict, where light and dark collide, Jesus is a displaced person. He is a refugee.

According to Matthew’s Gospel, as soon as news of this newborn “king of the Jews” reaches Herod, the Roman appointed King over Judea and Palestine, does whatever he can to kill off the competition. He tries to trick the Magi into disclosing Jesus’ location by saying that he wants to worship him, too.  In fact, Herod wants to kill the regent king. But the Magi are warned in dreams to take the long way home, Herod orders that all the infant boys 2 years old and younger be killed to be sure that this king will never grow up.

But Jesus and Mary are saved because Joseph listened to an angel in a dream to flee to Egypt. Just like Moses being launched in a basket to avoid the massacre of Jewish babies by Pharaoh a thousand years before, God intervenes—with the help of caring, faithful people—to save Jesus. In Moses’ case, Moses’ sister Miriam made sure that Moses is found by Pharaoh’s wife and then contrives to be his nanny. For Jesus, Joseph rescues Mary and Jesus by fleeing to Egypt taking the same road that the Magi would use to find Jesus themselves. They are not alone because the way that God rescues us from the depth of human sin and evil and leads us on an exodus from death to life, from sin into righteousness, will be through the cross and resurrection.

We don’t know if the massacre of the innocents really took place because there is no other record except here in Matthew—not even elsewhere in the New Testament. I think that instead of writing history, Matthew is trying to make a rhetorical point to make sure we get that Jesus is a new Moses. Just the same, we do know that Herod routinely killed off his opponents, even his own sons, to preserve his seat of power.

Besides, human history is filled with just this kind of cruelty. The roster of human atrocity, even in just the last century and a half, is too long to recite. The Gospel reminds us that Christ is born into a world that equates power with cruelty. And it is into this kind of world that God intervenes.

When horrid, unjust, and just plain evil things happen—even close to home—we are tempted to fight evil with evil. It’s natural to us. And often people use the tools of evil-- violence, aggression, revenge, hatred-- to get their way and then tell us they do it for God. So, history or not, Matthew’s account about Herod’s massacre has the ring of truth to it.

Anglican priest Joy Carol Wallis writes, in an essay "Putting Herod Back into Christmas:"

Herod represents the dark side of the gospel. He reminds us that Jesus didn't enter a world of sparkly Christmas cards or a world of warm spiritual sentiment. Jesus enters a world of real pain, of serious dysfunction, a world of brokenness and political oppression. Jesus was born an outcast, a homeless person, a refugee, and finally he becomes a victim to the powers that be. Jesus is the perfect savior for outcasts, refugees, and nobodies. That's how the church is described in scripture time and time again - not as the best and the brightest - but those who in their weakness become a sign for the world of the wisdom and power of God.

Notice how God chooses to fight evil. God chooses to push back evil by doing the exact opposite of what evil does. And more than that, God comes to us precisely at the moments when we are least strong, least capable, and the least in-charge and confronts evil and defeats it. God-in-Christ is born and walks among us precisely to minister to our greatest hurts and our deepest wounds. God shows us divine power and reveals our essential dignity in the midst of our weakness.

If there are moments or times in your life when you feel yourself, outcast, Christ has come for you. If there are periods when you have been afraid, Christ has come for you. If there are times when you are uncertain as to which path to take, Christ has come for you. If there are moments of deep grief or unresolved sadness, Christ has come for you.

Our epistle today picks up on this: Ephesians 1:3-14 is one long sentence. In it, Paul the apostle or one of his followers, shares a blessing, reminding us that because of what God has done in Jesus Christ we are adopted into and made part of God’s new reign. Not because of anything we’ve done but because of what Christ has done. The work of this rescued, refugee infant rescues us from our sin, our brokenness, our fear and makes us into a new people.

The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King once wrote about the lengths that God has gone to restore us to proper relationship with God. He says that the Christ’s incarnation is a real, practical confrontation with evil but one that does not resort to evil to overcome it. He says that the cross, in particular, is:

"the eternal expression of the length to which God will go in order to restore broken community. The resurrection is the symbol of God's triumph over all the forces that seek to block community. The Holy Spirit is the continuing community creating reality that moves through history. He who works against community is working against the whole of creation."

What drives God’s resistance to sin and evil? Love! God’s divine (agape) love for us and for all creation is what compels God to address the heart and depth of our hurts. This is why King advocated non-violent resistance as the way to end injustice.  Nonviolent resistance brings an end to hate by being agape in action—God’s divine love made real.

One of the little details about Matthew’s Christmas story I love is the detour the Magi had to make. I’ve never been to the Holy Land, but if I read my Bible atlas correctly, the Magi walked a circuitous and unexpected path. You see, Israel and the holy land exist on this narrow strip between the Mediterranean Sea and the Arabian desert. Everyone going from Africa to Asia Minor or Europe had to walk on this little strip of land with the sea on one side and mountains on the other, and beyond the mountains, desert. Everyone who wanted to travel on land between the Nile Delta and Africa and both Asia Minor and Persia had to walk this way. It's a kind of land bridge between two continents, sometimes also called The King's Highway. It appears to have been the same route walked by Abraham two millennia before Jesus, and it explains a lot as to why the holy land has been such contested real estate for so many generations.

To get to Bethlehem, they would have had to taken an off ramp and climb the hills. According to Matthew, they went to Jerusalem first to get permission (and directions) from Herod and then had to back track a bit to find Jesus in Bethlehem. 

So, imagine that they may have walked with the moon on one side, and this strange star on the other hanging over the mountains. To choose to follow the star to find this new-born king, meant taking a new path, off the beaten track, and exploring a strange new country. Imagine that journey. Their circuitous journey makes me think about the strange, unpredictable journeys that we have lived.

We also live in a dangerous, unpredictable world. Christmas reminds us that the struggle between light and dark, death and life, fear and faith takes place in the everyday places where ordinary people choose to walk the narrow path of love, dignity, hope and community instead of choosing to circle the wagons in fear. Christmas reminds us that God is with us every step of the way. Our God comes to us as a refugee who will go to the cross, and in that very journey God rescues from death, gives us the power to embrace life and discover the love and presence of God dwelling among us every day.

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Scripture for the Second Sunday of Christmas, January 4, 2026

St. Chad's Episcopal Church, Tampa, Florida 

Learn more about the Diocese of Southwest Florida here

Imitating the Logos Everyday

They say that in some cultures and in some places, taking a photograph of a person is thought to take a piece of the soul away from the subject. I don’t know about that, but I have noticed that when one sees a well-done portrait or photograph of a person, something of the personality, something of the essence of the subject is captured and communicated through that image.

This is what the Gospel of John means when he uses the word “Word” to describe Jesus Christ. When Jesus is described as “the word,” we are seeing translation of the Greek work logos. “Logos” is more than vocabulary. It’s not the hint in a crossword puzzle. Instead, “logos” is the very image, the exact, real presence of the subject. in this case God’s own self who is made present, visible, and real to us. John is saying that Jesus is the perfect expression of the Living God.

Imagine a time before photographs, a time before movies, television, or even newspapers. All we had were each other’s words. The Gospels were invented in an age when the written word was nearly magical because it had the power to actually represent the presence of the writer. People who could write had an important job because they had to transcribe the speaker’s words exactly, with no interpretation, editing, or comments, not even footnotes. And the people who could read had an equally important job… they were conveying the living presence of the writer to people who might be far away in time or distance from the writer.

So, for example, when Paul wrote his letters to the churches, he was in a way sending himself, his voice, to those early churches. Even the Gospels were more than written records of the comings, goings, and teachings of Jesus; hearing about Jesus from Gospels was like sitting around the campfire hearing the story. This is why in Jewish tradition the scrolls of the Hebrew Bible are so important even after the invention of the printing press: they are the record of the first people who told The Story, written out by hand as it was spoken the first time.

The Gospels kicked it up a notch from the Epistles because they are meant to convey what it was like to see, hear, and experience Jesus just as if you were there in person seeing Him for the first time.

So when John uses the word “Word” in the first chapter of John’s Gospel it’s much more than a clever pun. The writer carefully chose this word to talk about Jesus. Jesus is the perfect Logos, the perfect Word, but without transcription error.

John says the Word does two things in Jesus Christ. First, the Word was made flesh and lives among us. Second, the Word brings light where there was darkness.

And he says that people who hear the word and recognize the light…who believe in Jesus…receive power from God to become God’s children…and we continue to witness to the Light and communicate the Word.

What does it mean to reveal the Logos, the Word, to the world?

Let's start with Christmas. We are celebrating the generosity of God, and entering into that generosity is the key to keeping our spirits up when times are down.

If you look at the history of the Church, we find Christians and Christianity are at their very best when they entered into generosity, which gave them the power to move heroically and confidently through difficult times.

Think about it. Have you ever wondered how it was that the Christian church grow so fast in its early years? It wasn’t because Christians all had one set of clear doctrines—they were centuries away from agreeing about how to talk about God, and still were working out the implications of Jesus’ incarnation, death, and resurrection, and the Church was centuries away from deciding what books would be included in their scriptures. Some people think that the Emperor Constantine had enough of all the different expressions of Church in his empire, but by the time Constantine converted… or semi-converted in the year 313 (because it’s not clear that he was ever baptized and if he was, it was probably on his death-bed) Christianity had become so widespread throughout the Empire, that was he merely bowing to that fact. In other words, he was counting votes.

Still, even with official recognition, there was a lot that had to be worked out... the Church had no single creed, no unified liturgy, no agreed upon Scripture. The funny thing is that, even with all that imprecision, the Church grew so much that the Roman Empire effectively shrugged and said “Well, we can’t beat ‘em, so we’ll join ‘em.” How come?

I believe that Christianity grew so fast mostly because Christians were known for their unusual compassion for those around them, especially toward those who were not members of their faith. From the Book of Acts onward, we see that they raised money on one continent to aid those on another continent, never for a moment presuming to think that mean little thought, that charity begins at home. They knew that charity begins when we help people that we not only don’t know but might not even care for, just as the Good Samaritan did for the injured stranger, just as Jesus did by leaving his heavenly home for our sake. 

Around the year 250 a plague struck Alexandria, Egypt, and killed more than half of the population. People who could afford it, got out of Dodge as fast as they could—except the Christians. In a time of panic and danger, they stayed in town and cared for the sick and dying, and some of them paid for that generosity with their lives. And what happened? People joined the church.

Throughout the empire, Christians were known to patrol the garbage dumps, but they weren’t looking for antiques or things to salvage and sell. Those dumps were where people placed infants they didn’t want, and the church got a reputation for saving lives that others had put in the trash. And people joined the church.

Again, in the Alexandrian community, those who lived on the church’s dole would often go entirely without food one day a week so that they, too, would have something to give others showing how generosity begets generosity; and, along the way, people joined the church.

It turns out the Word is not merely spoken it is imitated. The way we encounter the Word made flesh is to imitate the Word made flesh.  And the way we imitate the Word made flesh is to do acts of kindness, mercy and generosity—especially when times are hard, even to people we don't know or who are different than we are.

Throughout my ministry I have seen that in action in parish communities just like this one. I see here how you gather up unused or surplus food from I-don’t-know-where, and then open the doors, put up a sign and give it away. My last parish, St. John's in Clearwater, hosts a group called Good Neighbors who does this on a county-wide scale. They gather food that stores and restaurants would otherwise throw in the dumpster and sends it feeding programs, community meals, and shelters in Hillsborough and Pinellas County. I’ve seen churches where members fan out to deliver meals on wheels, who tithe their pledges to a different community mission or charity every month, who bring in boxes of books to give to kids who don’t have books of their own to read. I’ve seen parishioners in churches just like this take their beautiful poinsettias to their homebound and shut in members or to nursing homes to give to people who have no one to give them a Christmas gift or visit.

The list can go on and on, and it will because time and again, we discover and demonstrate the Word made flesh by imitation. Our prayer, our worship, our study, our life together and the way we care for each is how we find Him dwelling amongst us. And the more we imitate the Word made flesh, Jesus Christ, the more we ourselves find ourselves living in Christ’s image, becoming a reflection of God’s love who then practically and usefully share the presence of God to others.

As baptized people, as followers, friends, and apprentices of Jesus Christ, we are a living picture that shows off the very substance of God to a hurting, waiting world.

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Scripture for the First Sunday after Christmas, December 28, 2025

St. Chad's Episcopal Church, Tampa, Florida 

Learn more about the Diocese of Southwest Florida here

The Word is Best Spoken When Imitated

It is said that in some cultures and in some places, the taking of a photograph is thought to take away a piece of the soul of the subject. 

Which is why, if you ever find yourself among the Amish of Central Pennsylvania or Southeast Ohio. they tell tourists not to take snap shots or videos of the locals. 

Well, I don’t know about that, but I do know that when one sees a portrait of a person that is done well you’ll see that the artist has somehow captured in pigment and paint something of their personality, something of the essence of the subject. 

So when the Gospel of uses the word “Word” or “Logos” in describing Jesus, it is much more than simply a phrase. Nope. John’s Gospel is saying that Jesus is the very image, the perfect expression of the Living God, in human form. Not a disguise, not a ghost, nor a projection… Jesus is the living fullness of God and the fullness of humanity in a single person, undiluted. 

Jesus is the fullness of God and the fullness of humanity in a single person, undiluted.

John’s Gospel says that since before Creation, Jesus is the perfect expression of the living God and in his distinct identity co-equal and of the same substance as the Father and the Holy Spirit,. That’s why the Gospel of John deliberately echoes the opening line of the Book of Genesis in what Deacon David just read for us. 

Whew!

But wait! There’s more! John’s Gospel came from an age where the written word was seen as having such power as to actually represent the presence of the writer, so John chose his words carefully. Jesus is the perfect Logos, the perfect Word, but without transcription error. And the Light that Jesus brings into the world did not stop with Jesus. 

When John says that the Word was made flesh and lives among us, that the Word brings light to where there was darkness, he is talking about not only the person of Jesus but the work of the Holy Spirit through the continuing witness of the people who believe and follow Jesus. Like you and me and everyone else who is a follower of Jesus.

Yup. You and me and all Christians everywhere reveal the Logos… the Word… of God! 

What does it mean to reveal the Logos, the Word, to the world? What does it take for people to come to belief and know the life that Christ brings? How is the Gospel communicated especially in hard times?

It turns out that we Christians are at our very best when we move heroically and confidently through difficult times. The season of Christmas celebrates the generosity of God, and entering that generosity is the key to keeping our spirits up when times are down.

Have you ever asked yourself why it was that Christianity grew so fast in its early years? It wasn’t because the emperor Constantine semi-converted in the year 313—Christian numerical growth had already happened, and he merely counted heads and bowed to that fact. It certainly wasn’t because Christians all had one set of clear doctrines—those first Christians were centuries away from agreeing about how to talk about God, and what books were in their scriptures. Yet in the midst of incredible religious imprecision, the Church grew like wildfire. How come?

The reason that Christianity grew so fast was mostly because Christians were known for their unusual compassion for those around them, especially toward those who were not members of their faith communities. The Book of Acts shows us how they raised money on one continent to aid those on another continent, never for a moment presuming to think that mean little thought, that “charity begins at home.” They knew that charity does not begin at home. It begins with helping the people you don’t know and might not even care for, just as the Good Samaritan did, just as Jesus did by leaving his heavenly home for our sake. 

The first Christians let the gospel train them, as St. Paul said in Titus 2:14 (which we read on Christmas Eve), to be a people zealous for good deeds. That’s a religious way of saying that they were really and truly into serving the world, the whole world. They knew that God’s taking flesh in Jesus for the sake of the whole world wasn’t an event in the past. It was the pattern for their own lives every day. 

What does that look like? Cast your mind back to about the year 250 when a plague struck Alexandria, Egypt, and actually killed more than half of the population. The people who had resources got out of Dodge as fast as they could—except the Christians! In a time of panic and danger, they stayed in town and cared for the sick and dying, and some of them paid for that generosity with their lives. People joined the church.

Throughout the empire, Christians were known to patrol the garbage dumps, but they weren’t looking for antiques. Those dumps were where people placed infants they didn’t want, and the church got a reputation for saving lives that others had put in the trash. People joined the church.

Again, in the Alexandrian community, those who lived on the church’s dole would often go entirely without food one day a week so that they, too, would have something to give others. People joined the church. 

In 1873, a group of Episcopal nuns from the Sisterhood of St. Mary went to Memphis, Tennessee, to start a school for girls at the Cathedral. Instead they landed in the middle of an epidemic of yellow fever and so they began to care for the sick. Yellow fever returned in 1878, this time with a vengeance. While everyone who could fled the city, the sisters stayed behind to continue to minister to the sick. Sister Constance and six other Sisters of St. Mary, and a number of Memphis clergy ministered to the victims of the deadly disease. More than 5,000 people died, including several clergy and laity along with Sisters Constance, Thecla, Ruth, and Francis. Known as the Martyrs of Memphis, they are commemorated in the Episcopal calendar every Ninth of September.

It turns out the Word is best spoken when it is imitated. If you want to encounter the Word made flesh then we must imitate the Word made flesh. And the way we imitate the Word made flesh is to do acts of kindness, mercy and generosity—especially when times are hard! 

I know a parish… can you guess which one?... that routinely takes over a laundromat in a less than fashionable neighborhood of our city, to wash the clothes of people who don’t have even the small change to do that for themselves. You know who you are.

Once a month, another group of Christians, Episcopalians and other flavors of Jesus’ people, gather in parking lot across of the Clearwater City Hall at Peace Presbyterian Church, to provide a free breakfast and a boxed meal to the homeless and anyone else who shows up… no questions asked. 

Sometimes this parish turns your sanctuary into a Carpenter’s workshop (get it?) so that church and community volunteers can build, assemble and deliver beds so that children in the Tampa Bay area who are currently sleeping on the floor can have a cozy, comfy bed of their very own, along with the bedding, mattresses, and even teddy bears to go with them.

Nearly every parish in this county, and many across the Diocese, have adopted a local school, as you have adopted Sandy Lane Elementary School, a local Title I school. The backpacks, school supplies, coats, uniforms, and classroom supplies and the messages of gratitude that you provide to the teachers and staff, along with the staff luncheon you put on, are a tangible support and “thank you” to the teachers, educational professionals, and staff at that school.

The list can go on and on, (just look at the website!) and it will. In a parish known for generosity and caring, we discover that in our prayer, our worship, our study, our life together, that the way we know the Word made flesh to be dwelling amongst us is when we imitate the Word made flesh in great and small ways, every day. And the more we imitate the Word made flesh, Jesus Christ, the more we discover a life full of grace and truth and light.

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Scripture for The First Sunday after Christmas, Year C, December 29, 2024.

Website for Holy Trinity Episcopal Church, Clearwater, Florida

Here is the livestream of the December 29, 2024 10 a.m. liturgy at Holy Trinity, Clearwater, Florida.

Here is a reflection on the Gospel for 1 Christmas C, John 1:1-18 by Bishop Nicholas Knisely of Rhode Island.

God pitches a tent among us

The most amazing thing is tucked away inside the Gospel of John. Did you catch it?

Most of us have heard this majestic and abstract poem from John’s Gospel, filled with mystical and evocative images like, “The Word became flesh and lived among us.”

Okay. So?

The image of God dwelling among us is beautiful and a bit abstract, but what does it mean? What kind of dwelling? A castle? A Frank Lloyd Wright house like Falling Waters? An ante-bellum mansion?

We can imagine all kinds of dwelling places for God —but what about a tent? That might have been the preferred residence of a semi-nomadic people in the ancient near east. What kind of dwelling do you think God would prefer?

A small-town paper in another city recently reported on the growing population of homeless people in their community. The paper reported how the word got out about a local storefront ministry that serves hot breakfasts and lunches seven days a week, and a 90-day transitional housing program they run. The trouble is that people came from miles around pitching tents on vacant lots, and hanging out all day waiting for their next meal. Predictably, many local residents and small business owners were unhappy. Either they were concerned that there wouldn’t be enough food to go around, or, more often, they were afraid that this wave of homeless folks might send the wrong signal and hurt business, especially right before Christmas. So the idea of anyone pitching a tent in that town—except for scouts in the backyard—was viewed with suspicion and the police were called.

In Matthew and Luke, we heard how Jesus was born. John’s Gospel says that the Word became flesh. The idea of God Almighty pitching a tent among us may seem strange to us. Because this isn’t a Good Sam camping center and Jesus isn’t driving an RV. No, in Jesus the Eternal Word became flesh, and that means that the perfect expression of God’s whole self was also fully human—and the idea that God, the creator and sustainer of the universe, would need to have a diaper changed, or go hungry, or need a bath is, frankly, shocking.  

John’s Gospel tells us that the Word, the Logos, was in the Beginning before Creation dwelt among us— and that the logos dwelt—lived, camped out, worked with and interacted with ordinary people every day.

How would you feel about the Christ showing up in our backyard and asking us to pitch his tent right next to our house. I don’t know about you, but that makes me feel a bit… vulnerable.

I remember a long time ago going on a camping trip as a teenager with my Baptist youth group. I shared tent with three other boys in the group and soon, instead of sleeping, we were having a frank conversation about life in our high school and the questions we faced, the uncertainties we felt… the girls we liked. The next morning at breakfast, the youth pastor said to me quietly as he was flipping pancakes “You know, I could hear you four talking last night.” I suppose I ought to have been embarrassed; but if I was, I don’t remember feeling that way for very long. Because that conversation cemented friendships that has survived geography and the decades.

Another thing about tents: they are always a bit dirty, no matter how careful you are about keeping your shoes outside. After a few days of wrapping up the same tent and hiking or biking to the next place, it can get a little well… ripe.

Dirtiness and exposure. We might want to put on our Sunday best to come to church, but when God comes to dwell among us, he is okay with a little dirt and some vulnerability. Jesus would not do well on social media because has a lot to learn about managing his reputation!

The problem for us though is just that--- vulnerability and with it how to be interconnected and appropriately intimate. A recent cover story for The Atlantic explored the steady delay and decline in intimate relationships (not just marriage) among younger people. We live in an age and culture where self-sufficiency and independence are upheld as attainable goals. If you lack a cup of sugar, don’t bother your neighbors, just run to the super store. Don’t know how to fix something? Pull up a YouTube video on your smartphone. Need a ride to the airport? Don’t ask a friend Uber  instead, all you need is your credit card. Small-talk optional.

Genuine intimacy is risky. It means that we’ll be exposed, with all our anxiety, imperfections, short-tempers, and quick assumptions for all to see. Nope, in our culture, we will either say “No, thank you. I’ll take care of myself” or else pay a professional to provide for our physical needs.

Contrast this to what God does in Christ. Later in the same verse, when St. John tells us that the Word, the logos, the Christ, Jesus, has come to pitch his tent among us, he says that we have seen Jesus’ glory—and it is full of grace and truth. Grace and truth. Imagine: the majesty of God in street clothes.

Which leads to our second discomfort: It’s hard enough to entertain the idea of Jesus pitching a tent in our backyards, it is even harder to let his Spirit take up residence in our hearts,

But, as Paul says in Galatians, we need the assurance of Christ’s grace—the loving confidence and relief that comes from knowing that God sees us exactly as who we are—but through the divine lens of mercy, loving-kindness, and unconditional love.

And that assurance of God’s grace, of God’s desire to be with us—no matter how much we fear being exposed, being caught with metaphorical dirt under our nails, no matter how much we want to hide because of our shame, our guilt, or just the fact that we are imperfect, never measuring up to the person we’d like to be—that assurance is the greatest gift we can receive. It is the gift of the Incarnation, the gift of Emmanuel – God-with-us. That is the gift of Christmas. That is why God is born a fully human person.

The invitation of the Christmas season is to accept the gift. To enter into, as we did at Baptism, a lifelong process of growing more comfortable with God, ourselves, our living, and our relationships, “Just as I am,” as the old hymn says.

Once upon a time, I was a church that had a small Saturday night service. One  cold rainy night a person showed up at church looking for food and help. He was drenched and scruffy looking. He lived in a tent that he pitched on the Delaware River, but his tent was washed away in the rain. I was at a loss as to how to help. So, while I was thinking about phone numbers, and whom to contact, and how to access this or that agency, three of  our Saturday night worship regulars got to work. They invited him to a restaurant for food, one of the group went into her trunk and gave him a tarp to rebuilt his tent. Others found him dry clothes from our donations pile to the local clothing bank. Maybe it wasn’t the best casework on the planet, but I will never forget their spontaneous and pragmatic compassion. It was as if Jesus showed up unannounced and dwelt amongst us… and these folks passed the test.

The Feast of the Incarnation, Christmas, show us that Jesus pitched his tent in the middle of the messiness of the human condition, and here he lives our struggle, our uncertainty, our finitude, our sin, our truth. And through his incarnation, death, and resurrection he shows us—welcomes us—as Jesus’ brother, or sister, as adopted children of God.

God in Jesus pitches his tent among us and dwells with us, so that we may dwell with him, become homes for the Holy Spirit, and welcome all kinds of people from every possible place and situation into God’s kingdom.

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Bulletin for Worship for 1st Sunday of Christmas, December 31, 2023 at St. John's, Clearwater, Florida.

Here are the Scripture Lessons for the 1st Sunday after Christmas, December 31, 2023.

Here is a video of the Sermon at St. John's, Clearwater, Florida on December 31, 2023.

Here is a video of the Liturgy at St. John's, Clearwater, Florida on December 31, 2023.

The fullness of God meets the fullness of humanity

There is a story that has been making the rounds for years now, and it’s popped up on the internet again. Maybe you’ve seen it?  According to the story, a church was having a Christmas pageant, and the boy who was playing the innkeeper was not the sharpest kid in the congregation -- but he was well liked, so they chose him to play the innkeeper.

The idea was that this boy would listen to Joseph explain his need for a room.  Then he would respond, "Sorry, but all our rooms are full."

Everything went just fine at first.  The boy listened as Joseph made his plea for a room.  "Sorry, no rooms," he said.  He listened again as Joseph spoke of Mary, who really needed a good rest after her long journey.  "Sorry, no rooms," the boy said again -- but with a bit less conviction.

And then, when Joseph and Mary turned sadly to depart, the boy's conviction crumbled altogether.  "Wait," he said.  "You can have my room."

I love that story.  You have probably heard it before.  What you might not know is that it is a true story.  The boy's name was Wally.  The story first appeared in Guideposts in 1966, and has been charming people for nearly fifty years and Guideposts has reprinted the story a number of times since.

There are other reasons why I love that story for a couple of reasons. First of all, it is a moving story. I can just imagine that kind-hearted boy trying to turn away Joseph and Mary.  I can imagine how difficult that must have been for him.  I can imagine him crumbling under pressure -- offering the only thing that he had to give -- his own room.  I can imagine the rest of the kids and the Sunday School teachers trying to figure out what to do once Wally took the play in a whole new direction.  I can imagine some of the adults being upset because Wally didn't follow the script. And I can imagine other adults sitting in the pews wiping tears from their eyes as they witnessed one of those special moments that we are privileged to see only now and then.

While boys like Wally can't be counted on to follow the script, they can be counted on to do the right thing.  They can be counted on to give us at least a fleeting glimpse into the kingdom of heaven.  A moment like that one comes only rarely -- and fleetingly -- and then it lingers on in our hearts as it reminds us what God was doing at Christmas.

I’ll bet Joseph and Mary wished Wally was their innkeeper! The Government of Rome, the occupiers of first century Palestine, launched a census. Everyone had to go home to their home city. We hear that when Joseph took Mary to Bethlehem, he found “no room in the inn.”

I always have to put aside a mental image of what “no room at the inn” meant. In my mind’s eye, I see a buzzing neon sign on a motel just off the interstate. Mary and Joseph were turned away because the inn would not accept someone as low-class like poor Joseph.

You know what seems strange? Joseph is going to his home-town, right? How come no one in the family put him up? Some scholars looked at that question, and it seems that none of Joseph’s relatives let him in because they were offended that Joseph and his pregnant girlfriend showed up on their doorstep.

I tend to want to make my mental pictures of Christmas as pretty as postcards. But then, I have never had to spend the night in a barn. It would never occur to me to put a baby in a pile of hay that animals eat from. I think of shepherds as something like gentlemen farmers when in fact they were the truck-drivers and migrant workers of their day. And I have never had my parents or relatives tell me to go away because I was disgrace. Jesus was born to poor parents, in the wrong part of town, without a place to call home.

Jesus was born in this way not because of bad luck but because God is up to something. God is near us. No matter what we’ve done, or what happens to us, or what kind of life we’ve led, God is with us. God makes a home in human flesh, so that we can be at home in our own skin. God is with us.

If you take anything away from our encounter with the infant Jesus, that is what I want you to hear, that God is with us.

Are you feeling far away from the goals you set for yourself? God is with you.

Do you look for meaning and dignity in your work? God is with you.

Are you alone? God is with you.

Are you struggling with an addiction or love someone who is? God is with you.

Are you tired of more month left at the end of the money? God is with you.

Do you find yourself feeling down, or distracted, or without energy for life? God is with you.

The strange thing is that very often, God is with us through people who have found out the hard way that God is with them, too.

The AA sponsor.

The soup kitchen client who is now the soup kitchen volunteer.

The woman who survived violence who helps other women.

The cancer survivor who drives cancer patients to their treatments.

The person who drives meals to people who cannot get out of their homes.

All these people live out Jesus’ name, Emmanuel, God is with us, in their own lives.

 

People who have found themselves changed by God don’t keep it to themselves very often. They either tell people or they show them how God is changing them.

It makes sense to me that the story of Joseph and Mary stuck in a barn and Jesus being born in a feeding trough, of shepherds being the ones to hear the news of God-Is-With-Us, comes from the Gospel of Luke. Because it is from Luke that we hear of what kind of Church Jesus left behind. A church that went out into the world; a church that cared for widows and orphans; a church that banded together to feed hungry people half-a-world away when that really meant something. I wonder if the Church of Luke and Acts did this because they knew that Jesus was born homeless and poor, if they remembered the nativity stories because they Jesus in the poor and homeless?

At Christmas, the fullness of God is one with the fullnees of humanity, and is born in the poorest of surroundings! At first glance, it makes no sense whatsoever, until you see  God-With-Us in the poorest face and sees the dignity of humanity it each person, no matter where they come from or their situation.

The story of Wally and his cracking under pressure to let Joseph and Mary in is a picture of conversion. It is a story of a heart changing in the face of God-with-Us showing up on the doorstep. It is a story of a person who looks deep into the eyes of sadness and knows no other course but to respond with compassion.

It may not be in the script, but it is how God works.

The moment we look, look deep into Christmas and discover in the cold and poverty and loneliness of the manger God-With-Us, we are changed. We discover that in Christ God is there to change our hearts, to make us whole, and to give us the power.

When we look deep into the manger and find the Christ, we find that Christ has found us, too. And we are able in His power to touch other hearts seeking after God, like us.

There was no room in the inn, but even still God in Jesus makes room in our hearts. God is With Us. Making room. Changing hearts.

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Bulletin for Worship for Christmas Eve, December 24, 2023 at St. John's, Clearwater, Florida.

Here are the Scripture Lessons for the Third Sunday of Advent, December 24, 2023.

Here is a video of the Sermon at St. John's, Clearwater, Florida on December 24, 2023.

Here is a video of the Liturgy at St. John's, Clearwater, Florida on December 24, 2023.

Answering our cry for help

If you spend any time on social media, and look beyond the cartoons, the cat videos, and the memes, you will find bite-sized human stories.

I once read a status update from the friend of a friend… a 17-year-old young woman who seems to have the whole world right before her— she has friends, she is a good student, she is a musician and an athlete, and is about to begin the college safari.  Yet her status update seems to came out of the fog like an SOS.

It reads: “I feel as if the weight of the whole world is on my shoulders.”

Another time, I ran into another old friend on Facebook who told me that the job he worked in for that last decade or so has just disappeared. Poof! Now, here he is, in his early- to mid-fifties, on the hunt for work. He says on his status that he is trying to see this as an opportunity and not as a setback, but it is not easy.

And nearly every day I read a new prayer request for a person facing surgery, some crisis, or transition, or for a person grieving a loss.

These electronic cries for help are quiet cries for hope in a life filled with uncertainty.  You do not need a computer or broadband to find this theme in human experience. It’s been in art and literature, even Scripture, since the very beginning. In fact, it shows up whenever people of faith look around at the world they inhabit.  Today’s scriptures included.

But there is a response, and, in fact, an antidote in today’s Scripture. In fact, if there is a common theme in today’s lessons, it is this: that we are called to rejoice in the midst of uncertainty.

All of the Scripture and music in today’s Lessons & Carols, tell us that the promised Messiah is coming—and that they should get ready.

Advent is a season of rejoicing and anticipation. We are being reminded to rest in God, because God has done, and is doing, great things for us, that God is with us now, and God’s future is always unfolding.

The challenge is to rise to the occasion without forcing the issue.

To that seventeen-year-old friend of a friend, I would point to John the Baptist, who carries the voice of the anointed one but is comfortable enough in his own skin to know that he is not the messiah. I would say to her, you have so much ahead of you, the one thing you don’t have to worry about is being the Messiah. You are not there to save the world, let alone your parent and loved one’s images of you. You are called to be the best “you” that you can possibly be. That is more than enough voice that prepares God’s way for us.

To the one who feels that life is becalmed if not beached, I would direct them to the scripture, music, and songs of hope, of faith that we heard today. Especially to those looking forward, to the words of Isaiah bringing words of hope and comfort to a people displaced by war and turmoil. But especially, I would point to the relationship between Elizabeth, mother of John the Baptist, and Mary, the mother of Jesus, who when they realize that God is doing great things in both of their lives break out in prayer and song as they discover the nearness and greatness of God in their lives.

Advent reminds us that God always meets us where we are, as we are, and exactly at the point of our greatest need. And that God who meets us, is ready to walk with us through all of life, no matter what it brings us, and not only bring us home, as the full person that God made us to be… ready to serve, ready to love, ready to follow and walk with Jesus every step of the way. Today, we have heard the story of God’s saving work, of how God meets us where our need is the greatest, and how God in Christ accompanies us to the fullness and richness of life promised in the coming of Jesus at Christmas. This is what we await, and this is what God does for all of us every day.

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Bulletin for Worship for the Third Sunday of Advent December 17, 2023 at St. John's, Clearwater, Florida.

Here are the Scripture Lessons for the Third Sunday of Advent, December 17, 2023.

Here is a video of the Sermon at St. John's, Clearwater, Florida on December 17, 2023.

Here is a video of the Liturgy at St. John's, Clearwater, Florida on December 17, 2023.

Out of sync and yet deeply connected

 

We followers of Jesus are, generally speaking, out of sync.

If you don’t believe me, look around over the next few days. Christmas came on a Saturday, so I expect that it may take a day or two, but the rest of the world is moving on.

Soon the greeting will move from “Merry Christmas” to “Happy New Year,” if it hasn’t already.

Outside the church, the Christmas music is mostly gone; the gifts have been given unless you are from a tradition or culture that does this part on the Epiphany. Starting tomorrow I expect that we’ll see the curbs lined with trees and wreaths waiting for the removers to pick them up with the trash.

But we’ll be here… hanging on for two whole Sundays before the Feast of the Epiphany arrives on January 6^th. We will still be surrounded with greens and poinsettias, or if the flowers have gone off to homes and the homebound, we’ll still be singing [lots of] Christmas carols.

So, what is it? Are we stubborn, simply out of sync, or is something else going on?

Well, we are out of sync. And, yup, something else is going on because we’ve never been more connected!

The Gospel of John says that the Logos, the very Word and perfect expression of God, Jesus entered the very same world that he spoke into existence!

But the world did not notice. The gospel says that Jesus came to his own people, the ones God picked out of all the tribes and nations and peoples of the earth, and they did not know him either.

It was as if God and humanity and creation were not in sync with each other.

Well, in fact, it’s true. This creation is out of sync. And so is humanity. We are all out of sync. You don't have to look far: the news channels, the internet, and the papers will all tell you. I could give you a litany of all the things that are wrong with the world right now; all the evil, all the neglect, all the corruption. We could compare notes. But I don't need to. We all know it's there. Ironically, that appears to be the only thing in sync.

Here is the good news. Rather than let us stay out of sync, God has done something about it. God has come among us as one of us to put us back in sync with God and each other and creation.

John's first chapter is his nativity story. I’ve heard it called “the Nativity Story for grown-ups!” There are no stars, no babies, no magi, or shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night. Instead, there is a poem. A hymn. A meditation on what God is up to.

It’s a poem because what God is doing is beyond our imagination! Sure, it all happened in history, and it all takes place in the same cosmos as ours! The One God, who spoke all things into being is now one of us. God became human without diluting either his divinity or his humanity, so that we might be truly, and wonderfully alive. God draws near to us, so that we may draw nearer to God.

John's nativity story is not without a birth though. What is born is us. Check out Jesus’ conversation with Nicodemus in John chapter 3. What’s born is us!

When we see Jesus, we see the very face of God. And when we see Jesus, we see the very face of humanity. And when we see Jesus among us, and witness his grace and his truth, we are changed. We are born to a new life.

And that is not all. After meeting God in Christ and having been changed, we witness to what we know. The Gospel talks about John the Baptist who was not the Light, but told us about it, because he is the model of the Christian. One who has faith, who has seen the Christ, who tells what he sees and hears.

The world has moved on. For most people, Christmas is over. For us, who are baptized followers of Jesus in word, sacrament, service, and community, Christmas is never over! In fact, as Blessed St. Benedict of Nursia says, “Always, we begin again.”

We are always seeking after Jesus, the one who is the fullness of God and the fullness of humanity in one person!  We are always seeking to be changed by this new relationship with God; we are always serving Christ in the people God gives us, especially in the faces of the poorest, the loneliest, the most unlovely among us.

To the world, followers of Jesus always seem to be out of sync. And that's okay. Because in Christ we are in sync with God and we are more and more deeply connected with what God is doing in the world.

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Bulletin for the First Sunday after Christmas found here.

A video of the Liturgy may be found here.

A video of the sermon may be found here.

A gift carefully chosen

Have you ever gotten a gift you really weren’t too sure about? You smile and show it around while you are thinking about the returns line.

Now, have you ever received a gift, like for Christmas, that didn’t seem to hit the mark when you opened the box and yet it turned out to be one of the best things ever?  That’s happened to me from time to time, and once these gifts became an occasion for change and blessing. Let me tell you about it.

When my kids were younger, they gave me ties. Now I don’t know about other men, but I am very particular about my neckties. I don’t wear them very much these days, but when I was a chaplain and director of pastoral care who went to work in a hospital every day it was part of the uniform of a middle manager so most days I wore ties. Now I have to say I am pretty conservative when it comes to ties. I felt that I had to uphold the dignity of my office. But my kids, well… they had different ideas. Maybe they wanted me to loosen up. I don’t know.

My son picked ties which were, well, sneaky. (Or should I say “crafty?”) They looked from a distance like an old school tie or something pretty basic but up close you’d find that they had Bugs Bunny or some of the other Warner Bros. cartoon characters on them.

Now my daughter went in a whole different direction. One tie had hand imprints in different bright primary and secondary colors on a navy blue background as if a child were finger painting, and included was the script “I love my Daddy.” (No fool she!) Another one had a hospital theme. It was of the Three Stooges dressed as doctors. Which no doubt sparked confidence to every patient who saw it. But the one I remember the most was The Christmas Tie. It was bright red and had images of Santa, reindeer, candy canes and Christmas wreaths, and… it was musical. If you squeezed it, it played “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” And once it started, there was no stopping it.

Now that December when I was going to work, she’d look at me and ask me if I was going to wear the singing tie. Yes, ma’am, I’d say. Now I could have worn it out the door and then changed it, but you know that…well, that’s just not right. So I sucked it up, put on The Christmas Tie and went to work.

Now a hospital chaplain’s job is to visit sick people, to listen to their stories, pray with them and bring them some measure of comfort and hope by helping them tap their source of strength and hope. And, as I said, I always wanted to put on a dignified, stable face on my ministry. But it is hard to do that when your tie has Daffy Duck or the Three Stooges or would suddenly burst out with “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”

But you know what? A strange thing happened. These ties, they made patients and co-workers smile. Doctors, nurses and other co-workers would ask me what tie I was wearing that day. And I will never forget the smile on the face of the otherwise very lonely older man when, in the middle of a very serious prayer, I bumped my tie and “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” started playing.  His family told me it was the first time he laughed in ages—but because of the music or from my startled expression, I don’t know.

My kids were right about these gifts.  They taught me something very important about life and about the life of faith.

Christmas is a time for gifts. And gift giving is a very important job. You have to think about not only what a person needs but what suits a person’s personality. Getting a gift—even one that doesn’t seem quite right—is one of those moments when you know if the person who gives you the gift really knows you. It is also information: a gift carefully given tells us a little about the giver and how they see us.

A very wise priest who taught me when I was in seminary told me that “gracious people accept gracious gifts graciously.” I’ve never forgotten that lesson. Even if the gift does not seem quite “right” at first, it is still a gift and is to be accepted graciously.

Do you know why we give gifts at Christmas? All those Christmas gifts wrapped in pretty paper or found in stockings or exchanged at offices and classroom are more than just a custom. They teach us something. First, they teach us that gift giving is not merely a transaction, it is an act of generosity. For the Christian, the gifts we give point us to another gift. The gift God gave in Jesus Christ.

When we hear the story of Jesus’ birth from the Gospel of Luke, we discover that God is paying attention to people that most of us would sooner forget. The manger was a gift…an act of kindness by someone who decided that if the inns of Bethlehem would not open to Mary and Joseph…not because they were full, but because Mary and Joseph were not “our” kind of people. Someone had to open their heart a little bit to put the very pregnant girl and her husband up for the night.

And the shepherds.  They got a gift also. When the angels and heavenly chorus announce to them the Saviors birth, they are being given news despite the fact that they work in a job that puts them outside the boundaries of acceptable religious life. Instead of appearing to kings and priests, the angels go to everyday, working people, the poor and the outcast.

The gift of Jesus is that God is with us. Not far away in the some corner of cosmos tuning in every now and then. But with us right now, where we live sharing with us all the struggles of daily living.

The gift of Jesus is that he is God-with-us, a King over all Creation and at the same time joining us on the human scale. God shares what we experience: all the hope,  all the setbacks, all the hurt, all the relationships, and all the love. In Christ, we see and know that God participates in all of life with us. And because he would grow up and give himself to death on the cross, he will give us the gift of life with God forever. So with Jesus we have a new gift: purpose, hope, and holiness.

So if it is true that a gift carefully chosen tells us about both the giver and the gifted, what does God’s gift of Jesus tell us about God and humanity?

For one thing, God’s gift of Jesus tells us not only that God loves us, but that humanity is worth loving. Heaven knows we are capable of great evil—like Newtown or the firefighters who were ambushed in Rochester today—and we live in a world that can be predictably unpredictable—which we learned again through Hurricane Sandy. But for all that, we are also capable of great nobility, have great creativity and can be loyal. We are a bundle of contradictions, and the gift of Jesus tells us that God loves us so much that he joins us in all of that and helps us through it. God both knows our deepest failings and our greatest possibility.

Also, we find that God knows that our faith is sometimes faltering and inconsistent but that God meets us where we need God’s help the most. We may not know that we need God’s gift of Jesus. But God gives the gift anyway.  

I think that if God were to add stocking stuffers to the gift of his Son, it would be as the novelist Oren Arnold suggests: "To your enemy, forgiveness. To an opponent, tolerance. To a friend, your heart. To all, charity. To every child, a good example. To yourself, respect."

Jesus is God’s gift to us. And if you accept that gift, there will come moments when you will know that Gods gift comes to you over and over, just what you need just and just how you need it, And then something marvelous will happen. As you live the gift, you will find yourself giving the gift back and becoming the blessing God knows you to be. 

Isaiah 62:6-12 
Titus 3:4-7 
Luke 2:(1-7)8-20 
Psalm 97