Jesus always met men and women on the level of their need, regardless of who they were or what they had done. He met everyone as a human being, never as a stereotype. Stereotypes were as powerful in Jesus’ day as they are today. Once a label is placed on a person the human being vanishes and the person is reduced to an object of ridicule and scorn. Many labels were given to people in the New Testament; labels like tax collector, Samaritan, prostitute, Roman soldier, and sinner. They all appear in the gospel stories, and every time Jesus came in contact with these people he completely ignores the label and treats everyone without prejudice. Never did these factors blind him to the reality of the human being, the unique son or daughter of God he saw before him. I often wish we could look through the eyes of Jesus and see people as he saw them.  Wouldn’t it be great if we could only threat each other as a child of God just as Jesus did? 

Today we heard another in a series of healing stories.  We are getting to know the routine quite well; Jesus reaches out touches and the afflicted are made well. However there is more to this story; true there is healing. But there is also great faith and joy displayed by the one who was healed. Jesus was important, but the healing couldn’t have happened if the man did not come to Jesus. So let us imitate this man’s story of faith in action and adopt it into our way of coming to God in the midst of our times of trouble or loneliness, or affliction and when those we love are in need of a healing touch. How strong was that man’s faith; just listen to his words once again and you will know it was very strong.  He said to Jesus; “If you choose; you can make me clean.”

What our bible translates “you can” is a form of the Greek verb, dunamai.  Our English word “dynamite” comes from that word.  It is a strong word suggesting real power.  The leper knows Jesus can heal him; he knows Jesus has the ability and he knows Jesus has the power. Though out the scriptures there are reports of God’s people often doubting God’s ability. And haven’t there been times when we also have doubted God’s power in our lives or in the lives of those we love?  When we go to our Lord in prayer do we ever affirm Christ’s dynamite ability to do it – whatever it is we are asking for? When we acknowledge the power of Christ in our lives then we too will have the confidence in his ability to help us.

Another important part of this story that should not be missed is the joy factor. The law in Leviticus was clear: “The person who has the leprous disease shall wear torn clothes and let the hair of his head be disheveled; and he shall cover his upper lip and cry out, “Unclean! Unclean! And he shall live alone; his dwelling shall be outside the camp.” If you had leprosy you lost everything — job, family, place in the community — everything.  The leper who approached Jesus showed his desperation by breaking the law, by coming into the city, and getting close enough to Jesus that he could talk to him.  When Jesus reached out and touched him suddenly, the leper’s desperation turned to joy!  This former leper becomes not just a proclaimer of the good news; he actually becomes the good news.  This uncontrollable sense of joy was not just because he had been healed.  No, it was because he had been made whole; he was freed of that which stigmatized him.  He could re-enter the community, he could go home to his family, get back his job, he could live life again.   Many people are healed from a disease but go back to living the same lives they were living before they got sick.  To be made whole is something else.  It is to be changed, it is to be transformed, it is to know that God is at work in your life.  

Perhaps the shortness of this gospel story obscures its deeper meaning. This is a story about an unnamed leper and I think he is unnamed because any one of us could be him. You see we are very much like this leper. When we are in the midst of crisis, when we are hurting, it is very hard for us to see that God is at work in our life. Perhaps there are times in our life when we genuinely feel that we shall never smile again. Perhaps there are times in our life when we think that our present situation will be our lot in life till then end. Perhaps there are times when we travel through life all alone. But just like our friend the leper, while he was at the lowest possible point, God was at work in his life; in all his loneliness and despair while his flesh was rotting away, long before his healing took place, God had not forgotten him. We can accept the fact that God has the power to heal. But can we accept the fact, in many ways more important, that quietly and mysteriously God was there all along–leading, sustaining, and guiding this poor man. God was with him and by him even when he thought his life was over?  It seems to me that if Mark is telling us anything, it is that God is not just with us in the final victory of life. God is at work all the way through our lives, there by our side even when God may have been the furthest thought from our mind.

Many people suffering from illnesses report that their family and friends become timid about touching them.  When they need most the human contact of a hug, a hand to hold, or a pat on the back, they find others drawing away.  Dying persons suffer even more acute forms of isolation. When they look too ill, even their closest friends stop visiting them.  These subtle forms of social isolation can be most devastating. 

In all the healing stories, we see that it was Jesus who reached out his hand in healing.  But today we know Jesus is not walking among us – so we wonder how we or our loved ones will be made whole.  Well wonder no more; because this day we are all called to be Christ’s out stretched hand to those in need.  It is time for us to step up and put our faith into action; to do God’s work with our hands.

It is time for us to bring some joy to the downtrodden, hope to the hopeless, wholeness to the broken in spirit.  In unexpected ways, Jesus comes to those who are clean and unclean, the mighty and the lowly, the favored and the un-favored and reaches out his hand and offers these simple words, “I do choose. Be made clean.  Let us be the ones to choose to stand in Jesus’ place, to reach out our hands and speak words of comfort and reassurance to those who need to feel the Lord’s healing touch in their lives right now.  Amen.

For me there are times when there is nothing more tempting than to go to a deserted place. Can you imagine what it would be like to find a deserted place where phones do not ring and loud voices all shouting at once do not compete for our attention. A deserted place where we can hear ourselves think, feel our own calmed breathing, rediscover the inner rhythms which seek in vain to slow down our lives. A deserted place where we can listen to the wind rippling through the trees; a deserted place free from our overcrowded calendars, the distraction of television and radio; a place of tranquil rest and blessed retreat. Let me tell you there are days when nothing is more tempting than finding a deserted place.

“In the morning while it was still very dark, Jesus got up and went to a deserted place, and there he prayed.” So often, when we think about Jesus’ ministry, we get this image of almost constant activity; after all Jesus crammed an awful lot of pastoring into three short years.  Someone always seemed to be calling his name, someone always seemed to be at his door, someone always seemed to be at his heels, and they all wanted something.  They wanted him to teach them, to touch them, to heal them, to feed them, to forgive them.  And Jesus met their many needs.  He seemed to be always on the go, always on the way, always “on” – and even when he tried to get away, the crowd always seemed to find him and make more demands. 

Perhaps this sounds familiar to you.  Sometimes it feels to us like the weight of the world is resting on our backs, and we cannot escape the demands of friends, families, coworkers, spouses, and children, all of whom seem to be right in front of us every time we turn around.  In this story we are reminded that there is one activity that cannot wait, one practice that cannot be shoved to the bottom of the to-do list, and that is prayer.  Jesus, no matter how busy he was, no matter how many demands were placed on him, always made time to talk with God, even when he had to get up before sunrise to do it.

Over and over again in the stories we read about Jesus’ ministry, we see that he made time to pray to God by himself, even if it was just for a few minutes, before he came back to the crowds, back to the disciples, to continue his work in the world.  Jesus models for us the activity that nourished him and supported all his others acts of ministry, and in doing so he invites us to do the same.  It is easy to get caught up in the pressures of life that bear down upon us from all sides, and so we do not give our own prayer life the attention it requires, thinking that our time with God can wait: wait until we have done one more thing, made this one more phone call, read this last report, or watched this last news update.

There once was a news item that appeared in the papers after blackout in one city. I don’t know if it was a misprint, a mistake or if it was true, it said: “During the power failure many people complained of having gotten stuck for hours on escalators.” Let that sink in for a moment; how do you get stuck on an escalator? And then remember we can’t go through our every day life with Jesus or God switched off. We won’t make it. There won’t be any power for living. We’ll be stuck on the escalator of life and won’t have the energy or the inclination to walk up or down. We need to spend time in prayer. Prayer is our connection to the source of power in life, which is God.  Jesus knew that. And if Jesus, the Son of God, needed to refuel, to reconnect, to plug in and recharge, what makes us think that we can get along without it? You and I have a source of power and energy just waiting to be tapped. And all we have to do is plug in to that source that is always there for us. 

The reality is that our time with God is the most important thing we do in any given day.  Taking time for prayer does not take away from other activities; it actually helps us do everything else better, with more joy, more patience and care, and with more compassion.  God is who we must return to again and again to get our nourishment and strength.  If Jesus needed to make time to pray, surely we need to make the time; and if Jesus found the time, surely we can, too. Amen.

So that is the setting for this gospel reading with a few more details than Mark would give us.  It was either Friday night or Saturday morning at the synagogue in Capernaum with a least ten men, but probably more, when Jesus walked in.

When those people gathered in the synagogue that sabbath they probably were expecting the usual worship service; some prayers, a psalm or two sung, a reading from the Torah, teaching from a scribe, more prayers and some fellowship time with family, friends and neighbors.  Little did they suspect any thing different would happen but as soon as Jesus walked in things changed.  Jesus entered and to borrow a word from Mark “immediately” he began to teach.  And to their amazement; they liked the change, they liked what Jesus had to say because he taught them as one having authority.

There is a story about a High School teacher who injured his back and had to wear a plaster cast around the upper part of his body. It was form fitting and he wore it under his shirt so it wasn’t noticeable at all. The first day of school he still had the cast on and as soon as he looked at his class roster he realized he’d been assigned to the toughest students in school.

When he walked into the classroom that day it was already rowdy and very noisy. All the students were talking and laughing; acting as if  he wasn’t there at all. So the teacher opened a window as wide as possible and then started working at his desk. Several times, a strong breeze made his tie flip up into his face. Finally, he reached over, picked up the stapler and stapled the tie to his chest in three places and then continued working.  The class immediately quieted down and those students didn’t give him any more discipline problems that entire year. With his actions that teacher made it known that he was in charge; he would be the authority in that classroom forever. That’s the kind of authority Jesus had after teaching in the synagogue that Sabbath. Jesus didn’t have to staple his tie to his chest; all we had to do was speak and the people were amazed at the authority he had.

We have no cue what Jesus said to the people that Sabbath.  Mark doesn’t tell us that either but here is what I think happened; when Jesus stood up to teach he didn’t say, Moses has taught us, or the exodus teaches us, or the prophet Isaiah reminds us, or Rabbi So-and-so has said. No. The scribes taught by quoting the Scriptures and talking about the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.  But that wasn’t Jesus teaching method; Jesus taught something new. God was no longer in the past. God was in the present in the life of Jesus of Nazareth. It was obvious in the synagogue that day that Jesus was a different kind of teacher because he didn’t quote other authorities, he was the authority himself. That was their first clue that something new was happening. But then something else happened; something that really opened their eyes to the authority Jesus had. The man with the unclean spirit appeared; the spirit identified Jesus, called him by name before anyone else in the synagogue knew who he was and Jesus silenced that unclean spirit and he came out of the man.  That’s the kind of authority Jesus has, even unclean spirits obey him.

We don’t really know what Mark meant by “unclean spirit in the man” but can imagine that this is the type of person most of us would avoid because of their strange behavior. If this happened in our sanctuary, the ushers would probably spring into action, and we would all feel a little nervous. But not Jesus; Jesus saw  this as a teaching moment. 

Mark never told us what Jesus taught, but he showed us that Jesus had a power over things that are considered to be unclean and he will help us to fight against the evil that exist around and within us. This battle of good versus evil, right versus wrong, life versus death happens everyday, even among people who gather for worship.  Christ has come to free us from the unclean spirits like prejudice and pride, greed and dishonesty, violence and all forms of injustice.

What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth the unclean spirit wanted to know?  Many days that could be our question too because we are not always sure. We don’t always understand why things are happening; why events and emotions control us in ways we do not want.  But this we can know for sure Jesus stands ready to help us caste aside that which blocks our best efforts, the demons that defeat our best and highest purposes. Christ stands ready with the power of grace, which breaks the power of sin. 

Remember, Jesus did more than staple his tie to his chest; He gave Himself up to be nailed to the cross for our sin and for our sake. I believe Jesus brings his new kind of teaching, his authority into this world to save us and to make us new.  What does Jesus have to do with us? The answer is that Jesus has much to do with us; if only we would let him into hearts.   Amen.

If you see someone running though an airport; you can bet you are seeing a person who is worried about missing his flight.  However if a lady is taking her time strolling up and down the concourse at the same airport, window shopping along the way, you know she has a long layover.  One of the greatest tests of personal patience comes when we are in more of a hurry than the people around us.  If we are short on time as we drive, it’s so frustrating to be behind someone who seems to be in no hurry at all.  Likewise, we may become nervous and even unpleasant if we are in a hurry while the clerk, cashier, or server is functioning slowly, as though they had all the time in the world. 

I’m sure most of you have seen a football game or two lately.  Isn’t it interesting to watch the team that has the ball when they are ahead during the final two minutes?  Those players move so deliberately, taking their time; allowing the seconds to tick away.  But when the team that is behind has the ball during the final two minutes we see players move with some urgency because that same clock continues to move oh so fast.   

This discussion of people, movement, and time leads us to our scripture readings.  In them I feel a sense of urgency because time is ticking away.  The clock is running out on Nineveh, and the people have precious little time to repent before the entire city is destroyed.   And the clock is running out on the disciples.  Jesus’ public ministry has just begun, but he will have only three short years to complete it, and there is no time to waste; follow him now he says, because you may not get another chance if you dawdle.  Don’t hesitate, don’t reflect, the time to act is right now; so drop those nets and follow.

Last week we heard two stories of people being called into God’s service.  We met the boy Samuel and the newly called disciples Philip and Nathanael.  This week we have two more stories of call; the call of Jonah and the call of Simon, Andrew, James and John.  As tempting as it is to talk about Jonah and his big fish story and the fishermen turned into fishers of people, I would like to focus our attention on the one who does the calling; the message that is given and how people respond to that call.  I hope this approach will help you reflect on your story of call.  And before you say to yourself, this has nothing to do with me.  Just listen and trust me you all have been called and you have responded to that call in ways that may still be hidden from you.  

The first words we heard in the Jonah story were; “The word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time.”  Remember what happened the first time; Jonah said no way Lord and took off, refusing the call of God.  But our God is a persistent, forgiving, loving God who can take a little rejection and because of that God does not give up on us.  From Jonah we learn something about ourselves and our relationship with God – something that is as true for us in the twenty-first century as it was for the Hebrew people of many generations ago.  We learn how patient God is with us and how God continues to call us and coax us back, even when we are on the run from God as fast as our feet will take us.  We learn how God shows mercy, even changing God’s mind to save us when we ask for forgiveness.  And we learn how God calls even the most reluctant of us to speak God’s word and do God’s work and how God does great things through us, sometimes even in spite of ourselves.  

For those of you who heard my call story last week; remember I said “no” for five years.  I was like a modern day Jonah, stubborn, going on my own, even going in the opposite way from God, but that didn’t stop God from sending people to deliver his message over and over again. In bible study last week we came to the conclusion that our call is from a persistent God.  Let me bring you in on the conversation we had by inviting you to think about a time you had this  feeling you should contact another person or do something and that feeling wouldn’t go away until you did; that my friends is your call from God which will not go away until you answer. 

And if God will take rejection and continue to follow up on his intended purpose, why can’t we.  In our last outreach committee meeting, we discussed our call which is to invite others to “come and see” life in this faith community. Every time we brought gifts to others in our community, a brochure of our church and an invitation is given.  This outreach to the unchurched continues to be a work in progress; have we been rejected, have our invitation been declined, you bet.  But have we stopped telling our story and inviting; of course not. This isn’t hard core evangelism, this is an invitation given to one family or one person at a time.  Our goal is to get the word out and let the Holy Spirit do the rest.  Still wondering about your call; well you are all called to invite others into this community of faith.  Will you answer your call today?   If not today, how about tomorrow, remember the word of the Lord comes a second, third, or as many times as the Lord knows is necessary.

When we read these texts, they remind us that we do not always have all the time in the world. For some there will not always be a tomorrow on which to choose what we are going to do with our lives. Situations change, death comes, destruction comes, and moments of decision come, sometimes when we lest expect them.  In both these stories the time is now; time for action, time for decisions to be made; time for repentance to happen;

Speaking of time, reading the Gospel of Mark is like living with an alarm clock that will not be silenced as it continues to declare the time and at the same time demands some response.  Markers of time fill the verses; today we are propelled into a time when John has been arrested.  And then Jesus comes and speaks: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near.”  The kingdom of God that Jesus announced was not made up of monumental buildings and great cities.  God’s kingdom is seen in our embrace of God’s rule in our lives through repentance and faith.  Calling the fisherman to discipleship, Jesus calls them into a new way of being.  And that is our call too.  We are all called to be workers in God’s kingdom, to find a new identity in Christ.  And we can do this without having to leave our nets, our places of security, our families, or our way of life. We do that by living out the gospel message of love for neighbor and for self.  We do that every time we offer a drink to the thirsty, food for the hungry, shelter for the needy, clothing for the naked, welcome to the stranger, care for the sick, visit to the lonely and imprisoned and even inviting others to worship with you. Remember when you do these things to one of these people, you serve Jesus.  That my brothers and sisters in Christ is what you are called to do. By doing any of these things you have answered your call to be a worker in God’s kingdom.  And the time to do it is right now.  Amen.

We are now into the time after Epiphany; we are between seasons. Christmas with its excitement and glitter is behind us, and the sober experience of Lent followed by the glory of Easter will be here before you know it. This is the time in the church year when we get to revisit all those Bible stories about Jesus starting his ministry, making his way into the lives of all those unsuspecting Galileans, offering them the life-transforming opportunity of becoming his followers.

These days of Epiphany are called Ordinary Time.  This is a time to reflect on the very ordinary ways that God wants to enter into our lives, and by doing so, if we let God in; God will make our ordinary lives into extraordinary lives.

The young boy Samuel was living with Eli, his mentor and teacher. This was a rather ordinary situation in those days, yet something extraordinary happened when God called Samuel.  Jesus’ appearance at the Jordon River was so ordinary that John the Baptist had to tell the people who he was, and then something extraordinary happened when Jesus baptized the people with the Holy Spirit.

We are not unlike these biblical people. We do not always look beneath the surface, so we often miss the extraordinary in what seems ordinary. We do not hear the voice of God in the voices of others calling us, we do not recognize Christ in the thoughtful people with whom we work, the honest people with whom we do business, the understanding people who help us in simple ways; the ordinary people with whom we live; we do not consider the sacrifices we make for our children or giving of ourselves to aging parents to be anything but ordinary; but in all these things we and others are pretty extraordinary people.

I never thought when our son-in-law Erik kept putting the thoughts of seminary into my head; his was the voice of God calling.  I never thought when Sister Bernice Hughes, my co-worker at the nursing home, encouraged me to walk in her shoes and become the Director of Pastoral Care after her retirement that she was part of God’s plan.  When Dave, my supervisor in Clinical Pastoral Education abruptly said to me one day, “Barry, if you want to go any further, if you want to get rid of the roadblocks that confound you, stop what you are doing, go to seminary, get ordained and quit your complaining,” I never thought that it was God’s voice, sounding a lot like Dave, which was setting a new direction for my very ordinary life.  I never thought that when my wife Bobbie said, “Yes, let go, you can do it,” that she too was speaking God’s words that would fulfill God’s plan. I’m sharing this very true story with you today because I am living proof that when you allow God to enter in, when you listen to the voice of God spoken though the mouths of others, then what you considered to be very ordinary becomes extraordinary.

The two call stories we heard remind us that it is not the particular choice of occupation that makes a call; rather, it is the will of God that makes the call.  God calls us to a wide variety of ministries in the world; calls do not come just to clergy-type folks.  It does not matter how old we are; when I was fifty years old I thought, “You got to be kidding.”  But at age fifty-five I finally said yes. God even calls the young, just remember the call of the boy Samuel.  It doesn’t matter how faithful we are; God even calls those on the fringes of our churches.  And it doesn’t matter what our past is or where we have come from; God calls us into a future in which we surely will see God at work in ways we could not have imagined.

In the gospel story we meet Nathanael. We were told that Jesus saw Nathanael sitting under a fig tree; this might seem to be an insignificant detail in the call story of this disciple but actually it is very important.  You see a fig tree is about fifteen feet tall and its branches spread out about 25 feet in width like an umbrella, creating a space that is almost like a private room. If someone wanted to get away from the chaos of a one-room house he or she would go out and sit under the fig tree. It was there Nathanael found quiet to contemplate his future. I feel a kinship with this relatively unknown disciple of Jesus, because after each encounter I had leading me toward seminary I would withdraw to my own fig tree to try to make sense of what was going on in my life  And let me tell you five years under a fig tree is a very long time.

And I wonder how many of you have taken a fig tree retreat while pondering questions like: What is the meaning of my life? Am I happy? Where do I fit?  Am I living the best life I can live? I think there are a lot of us Nathanaels, sitting under fig trees, looking for something to complete us, to make our ordinary lives, extraordinary.

From stressed-out fisherman to disillusioned farmers, from self-important government officials to distrustful lawyers, when Jesus began his ministry he encountered all sorts of folks like us, people who were not, in fact, living their best lives now or then, people who needed some hope for the future, something more to believe in.

It took him awhile but Nathanael finally figured it out. For Nathanael and for me our calls were life-changing experiences. But a call doesn’t have to be so dramatic.  Perhaps your call may is to be the good neighbor you already are to the person next door, or to be a companion to someone who is lonely, or to be the helper to assist a friend or family member.  What you are doing today or what you will do tomorrow may be precisely what God has called you to do.   Nathanael learned his lesson and I learned my lesson: It’s not about me; it’s not about you. It’s about God. And the lesson for all of us to learn is to let go and let God lead us along the path God sets before us. Believe and follow; that’s how you turn an ordinary life into an extraordinary life.  Amen.  

The Gospel reading we heard actually begins in the very same place as the one we heard for the Second Sunday of Advent. Only five weeks later we find ourselves right back where we started; right  back in the wilderness. Right back in line waiting for what John offers: forgiveness for our sins and a thorough dunking in the grace of God. And, yet, even as we’re going under again, we know that sooner or later we’ll be right back here holding our breath for a miracle. After all, that is the way it has always been. Why should we expect it to be any different this time around?But then Mark gives us our answer. For although these two readings are similar, they are not the same. On the Second Sunday of Advent, the Gospel reading ends with baptisms by John. It ends with us shivering in the wilderness with nothing between us and God except John and the Jordan. But here, on the other side of Christmas, Mark keeps going. Just when it seems that the story is over; just when it seems that we will never get out of the wilderness, never get away from John, just as the question forms once again on our lips we get our answer. We ask again “Now what?”  And Mark answers “Now Jesus!”

A mother was at home with her two young daughters one lazy afternoon. Everything seemed to be just fine until the mother realized something strange. The house was quiet; too quiet. And she knew a quiet house in the daytime can only mean one thing: the kids are up to something. Walking into each of the girls’ room and not finding them there, she began to get worried. Then she heard it: the sound of whispering followed by the flushing of a toilet. Following the sound, she soon realized where it was coming from. It was coming from her bathroom. Whispers, flush. Whispers, flush. Whispers, flush. Poking her head into the room, she was able to see both of her daughters standing over the toilet. Whispers, flush. One of them was holding a dripping Barbie doll by the ankles and the other one had her fingers on the handle. Whispers, flush. Wanting to hear what her daughter was saying, she slipped quietly into the room. Whispers, flush. And this is what she heard: “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and in the hole you go.” Flush.

This might sound like a far fetched story; but you know something it is not – because this is my story, this is your story, this is our story. We know it is our story because we know what it feels like to have life grab us by the ankles and dangle us over the waters of chaos. And we know that this happens in spite of our faith. We even know that, at times, it happens precisely because of our faith.

All you have to do is look at Jesus. What was the first thing that happened to him after his baptism? The Spirit whisked him away to be tempted by the devil. That’s why I think Mark tells the story of Jesus’ baptism the way he does–as an intimate encounter between himself and God and not a spectacle for everyone to see and hear. I think Mark tells it this way because he wants us to know what baptism meant to Jesus before we try to figure out what baptism means for us.

So what did baptism mean for Jesus? It didn’t mean that God, his Father would keep him out of trouble. He found that out even before he had a chance to dry off! It didn’t even mean that things would work out just the way he had planned. No, it seems to me that what Jesus’ baptism meant to him was that when he found himself in trouble, he wouldn’t find himself alone. It meant that even when things didn’t go his way, he would still have his Father’s blessing and the Spirit’s company.

And isn’t that what his baptism means to us too? Unlike baptisms by John, Jesus’ baptism means that we are not alone in the wilderness. It means that God’s love for us doesn’t depend upon us. It means that God’s grace doesn’t wash off. The baptism of Jesus means that whenever we find ourselves in a hole, we can be sure that in the hole Jesus goes with us

When Jesus came out of the waters of Baptism he was affirmed as God’s beloved Son.  When we are baptized, we also are affirmed by God. The love God has for us is like nothing we have ever experienced before.  There is nothing we can do to make God love us any more.  And there is nothing we can do to make God love us any less.  God loves us because we are God’s children.  You can rest in the assurance that through our baptism, you are God’s son.  You are God’s daugther.  We are all God’s precious children.  With us, God is well pleased. Amen.

This evening we heard about two biblical senior citizens and the lesson they teach us about the nature of faith. Our lesson leads us away from the stable in Bethlehem and places us in the Jerusalem temple where Mary and Joseph brought Jesus to be “presented to the Lord.”  

There are reasons why we hear about these two people right after Christmas nearly every year. The first is the irony that, while Simeon could not die until he met the Savior in person, we cannot really live until we meet the Savior. Oh, we can journey though life, happy enough, perhaps. We can be successful, and comfortable, and joyous people, but we cannot be at peace until we know that the Savior has come to love us – one by one – and bring us into the Kingdom of God.

We see in this story of Simeon and Anna, evidence that the religious life is not a brief sprint, as we sometimes presume, but it is a marathon. In an age of instant gratification, where pursuit of passion may last several weeks or maybe months, these people spent many years seeking God’s blessing.  

Simeon had been waiting for a lifetime for the coming of the promised Messiah. Waiting is a familiar experience which we talked about all through Advent as we waited for Christmas to arrive. However, this evening I am talking about a different kind of waiting. It’s not like waiting in line to check out at the supermarket. This kind of waiting is waiting to reach a goal or waiting for a “dream” to happen. Children wait to be grown-up. Teenagers wait to meet the “right” boy or girl in their lives. Young adults wait to graduate from college. Couples wait for their child to be born. Others wait for retirement. The longer we wait with nothing happening, the more impatient and discouraged we become. 

It is never easy to wait for anything of importance –for children it is hard to wait for Christmas, for adults it is hard to wait for the plane carrying the one we love, or for the morning to relieve the sleepless night, or for the healing word in a bitter argument, or for the toilsome task to be done.  It is never easy to wait.
It is hardest of all to wait for God. Not many can bear its discipline. Not many can attain its delicate balance of action and hope. Not many can achieve its deep wisdom. Not many can endure its long and dark hours. But waiting for God is not like sitting in a darkened theater, idly waiting for the movie to begin. Waiting for God is more like waiting for an honored guest to arrive at our home. There is much work to be done; everything must be made ready. Every sweep of the broom, every setting of the table is done in anticipation of the needs and wishes of the one who is to come.
Simeon and Anna were waiting for God to come, but they were not passive in their waiting. Simeon was full of devotion and did what was just. Anna kept the lights burning at the Temple with her ceaseless worship. They waited, but, while they waited, they did what was necessary.
Simeon and Anna did not wait because “there was nothing else to do,” but because they had hope. Therefore their waiting was not without activity. They worked and worshiped, performed acts of justice and prayer. While they waited, they defied the darkness by serving God, because it was for the light of God that they waited. They did what they could, and they waited.
And God did come to them. Who knows what they were expecting, but surely it was not a fragile baby brought into the Temple by two young parents who were eager to obey the ritual law of purification, but who were too poor to afford the sacrifice of a lamb and brought with them instead the acceptable substitute, a pair of birds. A man, a woman, two birds, and a baby. Can this be the heralded and hoped-for coming of God; is the Messiah really here?
It is hard to wait for God. There are some, who wait for God passively, and there are some who impatiently refuse to wait, but the hardest part of waiting for God is to recognize and accept God when he comes and how he comes. We pray for God to come and give us young people to fill the pews, and God comes, not bringing more people but a new mission for us to do.  We pray for God to come and heal, and God comes to us at the graveside saying, “I am the Resurrection and the Life.” We pray for God to come and console his people, and in the front door of the Temple walk two new and uncertain parents carrying a pair of birds … and a baby who will die on a cross.

Simeon had been to the temple hundreds of times without finding his hopes fulfilled. I can picture other people coming up to Simeon and saying to him, “Give it up, old man. You’re never going to see any messiah in your lifetime. Forget your dream.” 

There probably were times when Simeon did feel like giving up on his hopes. However, Simeon held on to his hope. And by doing that he teaches us something about the nature of faith. At those times when he felt like throwing in the towel on his dream, when he felt like he was at the end of his rope, he didn’t give up; he just kept on keeping on, even though the rest of the world called him a dreamer. Simeon kept his vision. And he did live to see its fulfillment! That’s something I think we can learn from him. I would call what Simeon had “trusting patience.”  Too often we are tempted to “give up” when we don’t see something happen immediately.  Simeon models for us how to wait with patience. One of the things that derails our hopes and dreams; something that breaks up relationships of all kinds is a lack of patience.  Can you learn from Simeon and Anna and patiently wait for God to answer your prayers?

The God who came to Simeon and Anna will come to us, too, defying our expectations even as he comes to meet our deepest needs. Until He comes, like Anna and Simeon, we do what we can; we do what is necessary  … and we wait patiently. Amen.

Tonight we find ourselves once again before the Christ child lying in a manger in Bethlehem of Judea, not Pennsylvania.  Part of the wonder of this night is the possibility of the meeting of two worlds, the coming together of time. In a little while we will sing, “The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.” Though we live so long after those events in Bethlehem, tonight we find ourselves at the manger. Once again, we see the holy family in the stable, the mother tired, but radiant; the breath of the animals visible in the cold night air. We hear the lowing of the cattle and the rustle of straw. But most of all, we gaze in wonder at the baby, this long-expected child.
I often wonder what I would say if I was at the manger that night. What could I add to Mary’s contented sighing and Joseph’s protective, “There, there, little child”? With all of our children, it’s not just their infancy, but their futures we imagine and dream of and long for. But with this baby, this little one named Jesus, we have seen his future. We have glimpsed what lies ahead for him and what it means for us. So, what do we say to him as we take our place by his manger tonight?
Can you imagine picking up the infant Jesus and saying; Little Jesus, let me hold you now. On this holy night, when you are a newborn baby, let me cradle you in my arms. Let me hold you and keep you warm. Now, while you are small and vulnerable, let me watch over you. Jesus, I want to hold you now, because many times in my life, you will hold me. Each one of us could hold this holy child and say to him; Rest your tiny hands. For though you are the King of kings, you will touch no silk, you will carry no gold. You will grasp no earthly scepter, sign no imperial decrees. You will use your hands for far more precious works like touching a leper’s wound, wiping away a widow’s tear, blessing and breaking bread, and giving it to your friends; your hands, now so perfect, so tender, so tiny, will someday be wounded for us.
Sleep well little baby we would say;. Rest your tiny eyes; for someday you will look at the world and you will see the pain and loneliness and ache that humans bear. You will look at us and see us just as we are, with all our sins. You will look and see the Christ within each one of us, and you will try to teach us to see you in us.
Quiet now, little baby; rest your tiny mouth. For someday from your mouth eternity will speak. Your tongue will summon the dead to life. Your words will define grace, pronounce blessings, teach, and paint pictures with words so we too might see our eternal God the way you know God to be. Your mouth will speak forgiveness to those who wrong you, will invite us to paradise to be with you forever, will send us forth in your name to all the world. Your words will echo down through centuries, bringing meaning and hope to our lives.
Rest now, tiny child; rest your infant feet; for someday you will walk many miles to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives. Someday you will walk on the water of a storm-tossed sea. Someday your feet will be anointed with oil by a woman who prepares you for death, and your feet will bear the same nail prints as your hands. Rest your feet now, for someday millions will follow in your footsteps.
And little baby, with your little heart, how much love you will show. Rest now; and let us hold you on this holy night, for someday, you will hold us. Someday we will feel lost and lonely. Someday we will wonder – is this all there is, what does it mean, what am I here for?
Then you will come to us. You will not be a helpless infant then. When you come to find us, you will come as our Wonderful Counselor, our deliverer. You will tell us that you searched for us. You will call us each by name. And when you find us, you will rejoice. You will invite us to your table and nourish us with your very self. You will remind us that we belong to you; we are yours.
Little baby, let us hold you on this holy night, for someday you will hold us. Someday we will feel deep sadness and sorrow. Something will happen in our lifetime that grieves us so deeply that we may wonder where you are. But you will come to us, then, not as a helpless baby, but as the Prince of Peace. You will remind us of the promises of God, of the strength of hope, of God’s deep loving kindness, God’s steadfast love. You will hold us close, and if we are quiet enough to hear, you will whisper to us that all will be well. All manner of things shall be well. You will tell us that you are here for us always, not just when we are empty enough to know we need you. You walk beside us, offering us your peace every day.
Baby Jesus; let us hold you on this holy night, for someday you will hold us. Someday we will grow old or sick, our bodies will fail, and it will be time for us to rest from this world. Then you will come to us, not as a vulnerable baby, but as Mighty God, Everlasting Father. You will welcome us into eternal light and life. You will welcome us to a heavenly feast prepared since the beginning of time, a home and a place for us.
You will do all of these things for us at great cost to yourself. You will teach us the meaning of giving, all that we have and are, on behalf of goodness and love, no matter the cost.
But that will be someday. Tonight we adore you as a baby. We welcome you as a helpless, vulnerable babe, who had no place in the inn, so you could prepare for us mansions in heaven; who became poor, so we could become rich; in whose weakness is our strength. This is the night, the wondrous night when the creatures hold our creator. This is the night of grace, when the Lord of heaven and earth stoops down, reverses roles, and allows us – the finite – to serve the infinite God.
And so, little Jesus, on this one night, let us hold you.
And let us whisper now the thanks that will be yours for all the years to come. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you for loving us. We love you too. Amen.

The father didn’t really react to the wise man or try to correct what he heard, but those words certanity got his attention and he though to himself, “now that gets to the heart of the Christmas story:  God loves us for who we are, our gold–where we are at our best; our circumstances–where we might be now and even our mud–where we are when we are most human. God chose an ordinary human being–Mary–to be the vessel through which the Son of God would be born.  God can take our gold, our circumstance, our mud, and do something glorious with it.  

Did you ever wonder why God choose Mary to be the mother of Jesus?  Mary was just an ordinary person; not rich or from a well-known family. It almost seems like she would be an unlikely choice to give birth to the savior.  Mary was so plain, so ordinary, so much like the rest of us. And that’s the answer, isn’t it? The flesh that became Jesus came from the body of one who was just like us. The body that gave birth to him, the body that nourished him, was just as plain and ordinary and vulnerable as our flesh.

Mary lived in a remote village far from the busy religious center of Jerusalem, she had no hint that she was destine for this God- given role.  The tendency to think that leading unassuming lives in out-of –way places isolates us from the extraordinary is disproved by Mary’s surprise visitor.  The selection of Mary to be the mother of Jesus is an occasion to cause us to leave the world of predictability and open ourselves up to the unexpected and the unimaginable.

The awareness that we are not fully in charge of our destiny flows throughout of lives.  Startling news – whether joyful or sorrowful – frequently raises the question that Mary voiced, “How can this be?” Mary’s question grants us permission to take the time to adjust to astonishing news, the good and the bad, when it comes our way

What is truly amazing to me about this story of Mary and Gabriel is that she only asked “How can this be,” and that is all she asked.  I sure we would have asked several other questions like: Will Joseph stick around? Will my parents still love me? Will my friends stand by me, or will I get dragged into town and stoned for sleeping around? Will the labor be hard? Will there be someone there to help me when my time comes? You say the child will be king of Israel, but what about me? If such questions occurred to Mary, she did not ask them. According to Luke, she listened as the angel told her how it would all come to pass, and then came her turn to speak. It was going to happen, that much seemed clear, but still she had a choice – whether to say yes or no, whether to take hold of the unknown life the angel held out to her or refuse was still the choice Mary could make.

Would she be “the God bearer,” who consented to carry, to give birth to, to nurse and raise the Son of God. Only one person was ever drafted to do that, but still it is hard to hear her story without hearing more than a little of our own.

There is a lot of talk these days about all the choices we have, and about how it is up to each of us to choose our own lives. But more often than not, they seem to choose us. Our best laid plans are interrupted by life’s own plans for us: by sudden illness and surprise babies, by aging parents and the economy. Terrible things happen and wonderful things happen, but seldom do we know ahead of time exactly what will happen to us. Like Mary, our choices often boil down to yes or no: yes, I will live this life that is being held out to me or no, I will not.

If you decide to say no, you simply drop your eyes and refuse to look up until you know the angel has left the room. Then you go back to whatever it was you were doing, and you pretend that nothing happened.  

Or you can decide to say yes. You can decide to be daring and listen. You can decide to take part in a plan you did not choose, doing things you do not know how to do for reasons you do not entirely understand. You can take part in a thrilling and dangerous scheme with no script and no guarantees. You can agree to smuggle God into the world inside your own body.

Deciding to say yes does not mean that you are unafraid; it just means that you are not willing to let your fear keep you locked in your room. So you say yes to the angel. You say, “Here I am; let it be with me according to your word,” and by saying that you become one of Mary’s people, one more person who is willing to bear God into the world.  Perhaps Mary’s words deliver God’s Christmas wish for us; that followers of Christ will believe that nothing is impossible with God and that we will invite the Holy Spirit to work through us so miracles will happen.  Amen.

Waiting is something we do not like to do. Waiting is foreign to our society. It seems unnatural. We hunger for immediate gratification. The idea of delayed satisfaction is a stranger to our thinking. The symbols of our unwillingness to wait are all around us. Fast food chains are blooming because we don’t have time to eat. We stand in lines or drive up to a window, gulp the food down in five minutes and then get back to the rat race. In kitchens all over America there are gadgets to get the meal prepared quickly. When we become sick we want to be made well now, not later. Medicine, doctors, pastoral care and love are often rejected if they are not swift enough to suit us.
But the truth is that, though we do not like waiting, waiting is a part of living. We must wait for payday, for a coffee break, and quitting time. But there are also very serious matters for which we wait. Some wait for health to return, some for the assistance check to arrive, some for marriage or remarriage. We wait for peace. A scared child waits for the coming of morning, and a scared adult awaits death. And an expectant mother waits for delivery. 

During these weeks of Advent we are in the season of waiting.  Here in the northern hemisphere, people wait as the days become shorter.  As the darkness grows, we wait for the return of the sun, the return of the light and warmth. As Christians, we also wait.  We wait for the birth of the Christ Child, the return of the Son, the Light of the World—just as John waited in his time for the coming of the Messiah. Our earthly waiting mirrors our spiritual waiting. 

So we have this paradox before us; we are caught between waiting and action, for we are called to do both.  Even in this time of quiet, of waiting, of anticipation, the world is also waiting.   The Jewish people were tired of waiting that’s why they sent the priests and Levites to interrogate John, “Who are you they wanted to know; are you the one we have been waiting for?” They wanted their promised ruler and king and when John denied he was the one, they knew their wait had to continue. Waiting can be very frustrating; it doesn’t matter what you are waiting for, who you are or where you are; waiting is often difficult

Just as John carried out his ministry while people waited for Jesus, we must remember that waiting does not put a stop to action.  Often we think that we must either be contemplative or active, busy, and doing.  Yet we need both.  In fact, some of each is necessary for a rich and balanced life.

Most of us live pretty unbalanced lives in so many ways—we work too much; we eat poorly; we don’t exercise or we are obsessed by it; we allow too little time for rest, play, or prayer; and on and on the list goes.  We live in an unbalanced society that equates doing and busyness with self-worth.  And the irony is that this time of waiting comes at such a busy, stressful time for most of us—the holiday season.

Perhaps for us this is the greatest lesson of Advent, and the greatest challenge. This is the time of year that the natural world slows down.  The light fades, the days grow shorter, lakes and streams slow and freeze, animals and plants hibernate and wait for spring.  We are invited to slow down as well.  Our bodies want to slow down, to sleep more.  But with all our modern conveniences, we pay little heed to the rhythms of nature—and besides, it’s holiday season and there’s too much to do!

So one important part of Advent is to learn how to slow down and enter into this more measured time of year, to enter into the waiting and the quiet contemplation.  .

And yet we know that even in the midst of what is to be a more unhurried time, the world still cries out in need.  The hungry still need food, the naked still need clothing, the sick still need our attention, the poor and the downtrodden still need justice.  That is the heart of our call, and the heart of this season.   

How do we begin to meet these needs?   In order to answer that question, we need Advent and other times of quiet contemplation where we can go deep inside and hear the whisperings of the Spirit as it calls us to our own individual and communal work in the world.  Advent serves as a reminder of this need to take time out from the usual clamor of our lives.

The season of Advent is one of those times, a time of dark and quiet and preparation.  Take advantage of this gift of time—don’t let all your time in the next couple of weeks be totally caught up in the frantic holiday busyness.  Find some time to reflect on John’s call to repentance—which is about turning around, turning back to God.  In that process of turning around, if you are willing to listen, you may hear more clearly the promptings of the Spirit deep in the quietness of your heart, and receive a clearer vision of how you are called to live out the words of the prophet Isaiah to bring freedom to the captives, sight to the blind, and good news to the poor.  And may the Advent season help you find that essential balance between being and doing, between action and contemplation, so that one may inform and nourish the other. Amen.