A Christmas to Remember

The Second Sunday after Christmas – Year A

January 5, 2014

The Rev. Christopher L. Caddell

Merry Christmas!

Yes, I’ll admit to it.  I’m enough of a church geek that it is still Christmas to me - at least for a few more hours.

Last week while my family and I were travelling, I went to the post office to mail something.  Only a few days after Christmas day, I wished the clerk a Merry Christmas, and you would have thought I said something in another language.

After stammering and looking at me cross-eyed, she was able to squeak out, “Happy New Year.”

I just smiled and went on my way, but honestly it was closer to Christmas than to January 1. 

As I left, I’m sure she thought I was the one who had a mental lapse.

Nevertheless, consider this your friendly public service announcement that “The Twelve Days of Christmas” is not just a Christmas song, that Christmas is a season that begins on December 25^th, and that there really are 12 days of Christmas!

And if that leaves you counting in your head, today is the twelfth day and marks the end of the Christmas Season.

We still have Christmas hymns, Christmas vestments and decorations, and though it may not seem like it, a Christmas gospel.

Matthew’s Christmas story does not end on a happy note.  The serene scene that we get from Luke of shepherds and animals surrounding the Holy family in a stable does not appear in Matthew.  The angels do not join in the heavenly host singing praises to God.  Instead, Matthew’s story revolves on two royal responses to the news of a new king – Herod and the Magi.  One comes to pay homage and offer gifts; the other seeks to destroy the newborn child.

Instead of ending this season with the peace-filled scene of angels and shepherds, the Incarnation is interrupted by panic and a rapid departure to a foreign land. Herod has heard of this new king’s birth, and he is not about to be challenged – him or his lineage. 

It is not a part of the Christmas story that we like to remember.  I doubt you’ve ever received a Christmas card that depicts it. 

However you imagine the message shared with Joseph in his dreams, what is clear is that God moves Joseph to take some fairly drastic actions.  When you think about it, all of what we know of Mary and Joseph has them responding to God in ways that probably never crossed their mind.

Mary is asked to bear a child that will put not only her reputation – in a world where reputation is everything – but also her life in a very perilous situation.  Joseph is asked to go through with a marriage that also puts his reputation on the line.  Then they are both uprooted, first with the flight to Egypt, then the hope to return home to Israel, and finally the eventual settlement in Galilee. 

No matter how you look at it, the Christmas story, for all that we like to romanticize about it, is a story about real life, real hardship, real ministry in the name of Christ. Joseph and Mary, as the very first who were tasked with bearing Christ did not find an easy journey ahead of them.

I will confess that sometimes I don’t take this seriously enough.  It is, after all, not where I want to go after experiencing the joy of Christmas.  Sometimes I choose to hear it as simply an historical account of the hardships faced early in the life of Jesus.  Other times I choose to write it off as a rhetorical device used by Matthew to used to identify Jesus with Moses and the Exodus.

And while one or both of those may be true, neither view challenges me to weave this story into my own story.  Neither stance moves me to consider how God may be calling me to bear Christ in the world.  And yet, if we allow it, it is what this story does so very well.  If we allow it, this story to goes well beyond “just being about Joseph and Mary,” or a literary allusion to the Old Testament.  If we allow it, we just might find in this story a piece of our own life and calling as Christians.

The Church teaches that its ministers are lay persons, bishops, priests, and deacons (BCP 855).  And though it is lived out differently, each of these orders are tasked with the same ministry – “to represent Christ and his Church”

In other words, much as Joseph and Mary did, The Church exists as the bearers of the Incarnation today.  We represent Him, bear Him, and carry Him with us wherever we go.

How we do that will differ from person to person, but when we are living into it fully, it will include:

• ·      Bearing witness to Him through our words and actions
• ·      Carrying on the work of Christ in the world
• ·      And participating in the life, worship and work of the Church

Ending the season on this note reminds us that Christmas and the Incarnation are not meant to draw us to the manger so that we can stay there and bask in the glory of a newborn child.  Christmas is not simply about the receiving of a gift. The shepherds don’t do it.  The wise men won’t do it.  Even Joseph and Mary don’t have the luxury of staying in place to enjoy this gift.

Christmas draws us in so that we can witness the birth of the Messiah but then pushes us out so that we can take our place in the work of carrying that child with us.  And though that may seem a difficult task, God equips us with both the message and the individual gifts to the work in ways that often seem impossible and take more effort or skill than we think we have.

As Christmas comes to a close, I invite you to listen to how is God calling you to bear Christ in the world and in His Church. Recognize it or not, respond to it or not, the call is there for each and every one of us.  

A Light Has Shined

Eve of the Nativity of Our Lord, Year A

December 24, 2013

The Rev. Christopher L. Caddell

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has shined” (Isaiah 9:2).

These days we no longer live in a world where one can experience the complete and absolute absence of light very easily.  Artificial light rules our nights as well as our days.  As soon as the sun goes down the streetlights come on drowning out the darkness and the night sky, and the glow of the city lights can be seen from miles away.  We would need to travel a long way if we ever wanted to experience what true darkness looks like.

Or perhaps not –

When I was a sophomore at Texas A&M, I registered for a class that had the amazingly original course description of “Geology for Civil Engineers.”  Despite its mundane sounding title, it turns out that it happed to be my favorite class and one that left a lasting impression on me. 

The class was taught by Professor Christopher Mathewson – a man who was, we all agreed, older than many of the rocks that we studied.  As long as anyone could remember Professor Mathewson had been teaching this class.  And as long as anyone could remember, Professor Mathewson had been taking his class on an extended field trip.

For three days we traveled around central Texas looking at different rock and soil formations.  We spent time at the Highland Lakes and Barton Springs.  We went to Enchanted Rock and ended our trip on the River Walk in San Antonio.  Yet, the most memorable part of that trip for me was our stop at Longhorn Caverns. 

We had a private tour that day, and as we descended deeper and deeper into the caverns, we learned what most people learn when visiting the caverns.  We heard about the different formations, about when the caverns were formed, and how they were discovered.  But as our group arrived in one of the larger chambers, Professor Mathewson confessed that he had something up his sleeve.

He pulled out a large heavy sack and asked us to place anything and everything that we had that might give off light – flashlights, cell phones, even watches with glow in the dark hands.  All of this was placed in the sack, and then he told us that the lights were going out.

A few seconds later our entire class was sitting in complete and total darkness.  It is an experience that I will never forget.  We sat there for a long while.

As Professor Mathewson continued to talk, our eyes continued to adjust.  After what must have been a good fifteen minutes we began to think we actually could see – that was until we reached out to touch our neighbor or the wall, only to find that what we thought was there, was not, and our eyes were playing tricks on us.

We were in complete and utter darkness.  It is not something I can say I have ever experienced before or since.

And just as this whole scenario started to become really uncomfortable, Professor Mathewson did something that surprised us all.  He struck a match, and an amazing thing happened.  From that small tiny flame we could see everything – the walls, the floor, the ceiling, the faces of those around us. 

The light emanating from this single, small flame was enough to overcome a vast cavern filled with darkness.

Even in a world filled with artificial light, we still experience darkness and shadow.  The realities of our own lives and the world around us do not always match up to what we hope they would be.  

Things get broken. 

We get hurt. 

We hurt other people. 

We may even hurt ourselves.

The gap between what is and what ought to be sometimes seems to be widening, rather than coming closer together.

Then again, Christmas reminds us of a different reality.

At face value it is an ordinary story. Mary and Joseph were nothing compared to Caesar Augustus, the ruler of the known world.  Bethlehem was dump in the shadow of cities like Jerusalem, Caesarea Philippi, and certainly Rome.   And a baby being born was nothing more than a common occurrence – another peasant in a vast empire of people.  An ordinary Jewish family, traveling to a very ordinary outpost of the Roman Empire, going through the very ordinary process of having a baby.

Nothing about this story should have captured the hearts and imagination of the world. Nothing so insignificant should have ever made a difference then, much less make a difference in the vastness of space and time that separates this night from that.

And yet, it does.  The seemingly ordinary story of the birth of a small child has endured because from it shines forth light.  It is the light of God’s promises being fulfilled, the light of a Savior being born, the light of Emmanuel, the light of God dwelling with us.

We come back to this story again and again, year after year because in it we see the beginning of our salvation.  It is not just an historical event that occurred in Bethlehem, but one that reminds us of how God works in our life now, tonight, in this very place.

God is not forceful or imposing.  God does not overpower the creation or us.

Instead, God quietly shines light into the shadows and darkness, and invites us to look if we want to see it.

This is how God works, then and now. 

To the world it may seem insignificant.  It may even look to others as if we are naïve. Yet it is there if we only care to look.

I’m not sure how much geology I learned down in the bottom of Longhorn Caverns, but what I did learn left a lasting impression.  Contrary to how we might think of it, light and darkness are not equal and opposite realities.  Light holds far more power than we tend to think.  Just the smallest, seemingly most insignificant amount of light – whether it is the strike of a match or the birth of one small child – holds the power to destroy darkness.

The candles that we will light later tonight are symbols of that reality.  They remind us that God is breaking though the darkness even if it seems to be in insignificant ways.  No matter how vast the darkness seems it only takes a small glimmer of God to begin to dispel the darkness.

Merry Christmas!

May you leave here knowing the true gift of Christmas –  

That hope is eternal,

That light will always overcome the dark,

And that in Christ we see true Light that has come down to shine in our hearts.  Amen.

Could It Be I Was Wrong?

Matthew 11:2-11

When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?" Jesus answered them, "Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me."
As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: "What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written,

`See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you,

who will prepare your way before you.'

Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he."

Another Year, Another Chance

It seems a bit strange to talk about a new year before the end of November, yet here we are. The end of the Season after Pentecost has past and the beginning of Advent is just around the corner, and as far as the church calendar goes, we are entering a new year.  It is a prime example of what the church seems to do so very often - speaking about and doing things that are strange to those looking in from the outside, and even, from time to time, a few of us on the inside as well.

It is the Church's New Year, however, and it is a time when we reset the clock, so to speak.  We return to the start of the Christian narrative and move back to the beginning of the story.  But where does that story begin?  One might think that the beginning would be the birth of Jesus with the shepherds or the wise men visiting the Holy Family.  Or perhaps it makes better sense to back up a little and start with the angel's visit to Mary and her subsequent visit to her relative Elizabeth.  Or maybe, like Mark's gospel, our year should begin not with the story of Jesus' birth, but rather with John the Baptist announcing that the Messiah is coming.  All of these would seem to be good beginnings and they will, in time, be a part of the story.

Yet none of them are where we begin our new year.  None of those stories are the place where we say, 'It all starts here.'  Instead, every year, on the First Sunday of Advent, our readings have Jesus speaking to his disciples about things that seem to be pointing to an end rather than a beginning.  They are apocalyptic and have Jesus speaking about the last things, the end of the age.  "About that day and hour," Jesus says, "no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father" (Matt 24:36).  Jesus goes on to tell his disciples to remain vigilant precisely because they do not know when the time will be fulfilled.  "For the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour" (24:44b).  A strange place, indeed, to begin the story.

Then again, perhaps it is not so strange.  Jesus' conversation with his disciples certainly has elements of the 'end of the age,' but the focus is on the disciples themselves.  Ultimately, Jesus is telling his disciples that they should not worry about the timing of it all, but rather should concern themselves with being prepared.  Jesus' words echo true for us too, and preparing oneself for the appearing of Christ is exactly what this season of Advent is all about.

It is also where the Christian story begins - with you and with me.  The story begins with us preparing our hearts and making room for Immanuel to come and dwell.  From there we are able to enter more deeply into the mystery of the Incarnation and beyond through the entire church year.

It is another year bringing with it another chance.  Advent comes with a fresh start and a new opportunity to delve deeply into the mystery of God.  Take that opportunity.  Slow down.  Pray.  Read and meditate on Holy Scripture.  Pray.  Come to worship.  Pray.  Participate in an outreach project.  Pray.

The joy and wonder of Christmas in your life is completely dependent on your own readiness to receive it.  Are you ready?