Sunday, December 27, 2009

The Work of Christmas

Christmas meditation by Carrie Eikler
Colossians 3:12-17

By a show of hands, who got what they wanted for Christmas?

Now--and I don’t mean to get anybody in trouble here--raise your hand if you got what you really wanted for Christmas. Not as many, huh? Maybe you didn’t raise you hand because that’s a trickier question than it sounds. Maybe you had to pause and ask what do I really want?

Maybe, you did want that iPhone you got, but what you really want is your mother to be free of her cancer. Maybe you did want that WVU Sunggie under the tree, but what you really want is to feel happy again. Maybe your child did want that Zhu-zhu pet or Nintendo Wii, but maybe what they really wanted was your understanding. Or maybe you did want to hear from all your family and acquaintances through their family Christmas letters, but what you really wanted was to trade your 142 Facebook friends in for one true friend who you could really confide in.

So, did you get what you really wanted for Christmas?

On Christmas morning it is easy to get what we want under the tree. At least, it’s easy to be satisfied with what someone has guessed we wanted. It is not so easy to wrap up those things that our hearts really yearn for. And there’s the difference: the difference between our wants and our yearnings. Our yearnings seem to take a lot more attention than our simple wants. They seem to come from a different place within us than where our materialistic desires come from.

What do you truly yearn for? Is it to be relieved of your deepest fear? [cloud] Is it to get rid of everything that distracts you from a full and faithful life? [sun] Is it to finally come into balance with God, and God’s deepest yearning for you? [world] Or, as we would have explored last Sunday had the weather not been so bad, is your deepest yearning some illumination of a new path? [star] What is the breaking in and busting out you long for?

I think if we explored those yearnings we’d see they occupy a different level of desire than our wants. We might see a common theme running through our yearnings and the yearnings of others. We’d see a yearning for relationships, for healing, for friendship, for faith, for happiness without all the trappings of the wrappings. Our yearnings come from our soul. If we try to address our yearnings, and the yearnings of this broken and blessed world, we discover that it takes work.

Today, the work of Christmas begins. The anthem today emphasizes this point. Jim Strathdee wrote the song the choir sang, in response to a Christmas poem by Howard Thurman, a civil rights leader and theologian. In case you didn’t catch all the words of this anthem, hear them again: “When the song of the angels is stilled, When the star in the sky is gone, When the kings and the shepherds have found their way home, the work of Christmas is begun.” [1]

And according to the Thurman, the work of Christmas looks something like this, as the song suggests: “to find the lost and lonely one, To heal the broken soul with love, To feed the hungry children with warmth and good food, to feel the earth below, the sky above! To free the prisn’er from all chains, To make the powerful care, To rebuild the nations With strength of good will, To see God’s children every where! To bring hope to every task you do, To dance at a baby’s new birth, To make music in an old person’s heart, and sing to the colors of the earth.”

Paul, in his letter to the Colossians knew about this work, too. Christmas as we understand it and celebrate it certainly didn’t exist in his time. But if he had words for us, in these days following Christmas 2009, he would likely encourage us to return those sweaters from LL Bean, or those pants from Banana Republic, or pajamas from Target. Trade them in for work clothes, work clothes that help us meet some of those yearnings of our hearts, and the world: clothe yourself with the work clothes of compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Strap on a pair of work boots, that prepare you to jump into the dirty work of forgiving those who have hurt you, and for asking for forgiveness yourself. Wrap yourselves in the Snuggie that is big enough for more than just you, and wrap others up in it, in love and warmth.

Today the work of Christmas begins--The work to address the yearnings of our lives and the world, not simply the wants. And it’s not just God’s work. It’s God’s gift to us to be a part of this work. Christ came to the earth, through a lot of hard work, to show us the ways, the tools, the clothes to put on so we can begin to fulfill those deepest yearnings.

The anthem this morning began with that promise: “I am the light of the world! You people come and follow me! If you follow and love You’ll learn the mystery Of what you were meant to do and be.”

What a gift that is. Now, the work of Christmas is begun.





[1] “I am the Light of the World” words and music by Jim Strathdee, in response to a Christmas poem by Howard Thurman entitled “The Work of Christmas”

Sunday, December 13, 2009

What Should We Do?

sermon by Carrie Eikler
Luke 3:7-18, Zephaniah 3:14-20
Advent 3

Two doors down from our house are our neighbors, Steve and Sally. Some of you know Steve from the construction work he has done for the church. He drives a grey pickup truck that has the remnants of his construction jobs in the back bed. Sally has an old beige car. Nothing too impressive. But soon after we moved onto Center Street, I noticed Sally had an unassuming looking bumper sticker on her car. It is so small you almost have to be right on her bumper to read it. It states, simply, “I poke badgers with spoons.”

For the longest time, I didn’t quite get this bumper sticker. I found out Sally, like myself, was from Illinois, so I thought maybe it was some reference to a University of Illinois allegiance. Our neighbors to the north, the University of Wisconsin are the UW Badgers, so maybe she was making some comment about sports rivalries. When I finally got up the courage to express my ignorance, I asked Steve one day as he was tinkering in his yard: “Sorry Steve, but what does ‘I poke badgers with spoons’ mean?.” To which he replied:

“Well, you know about badgers right?” I said, “No not really. Aside from the University of Wisconsin, I know nothing about badgers.” “Well,” he explained “Badgers are the meanest animals in the world. They’ll bite your face off. So if you poke badgers with spoons, you are pretty darn mean yourself.”

Supposedly that explanation was enough. Sally, who I found to be a fairly pleasant person, was expressing to those driving around her…not to mess with her? That she’d bite your face off because she was so mean she could torment badgers with silverware? All in all I thought it pretty funny, though a bit bizarre.

But recently I discovered that the phrase “I poke badgers with spoons” is actually a line from Eddie Izzard, a stand up comic. Eddie grew up in the church and from an early age he apparently heard his fair share of the doctrine of original sin. He didn’t quite get it though. After all, those words together, original sin, are not mentioned anywhere in the Bible. He assumed it meant that priests were bored with the same old confessions, and they just wished someone would confess something interesting, some original sin. So he came up with something he bet no one ever confessed before: Bless me Father for I have sinned, “I poke badgers with spoons.” [1]

It’s true, there’s probably not much original sin out there anymore, the way Eddie interpreted. But lack of originality does not mean that we are each free of our own unique sinfulness. Those dark deeds, or tendencies, or actions that slowly but surely separate us from God and those we love, even separate us from our own selves. We are unique in how destructive forces affect each us. And John the Baptist confronts us with this.

For John, preparing the way for Jesus means getting in our faces and telling us to shape up. For those who gathered around him, he confronts them with names, calling them children of snakes, a brood of vipers. We might question the divine choice to send John as an ambassador, inviting people to join Jesus. But, he had their attention, they gathered around him, being baptized—purified. And then those baptized--and maybe even those who weren’t quite sure they were ready to wade into those waters--they ask the $10,000 question of any terrified, new convert: “What should we do?”

Three times it is asked in this scripture. And John refuses to give a one-size-fits-all prescription for salvation. No simple-in-words, but vague-in-application “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and your neighbor as yourself.” Nothing like our contemporary endorsement to have a “personal relationship with Jesus Christ.” John is not big here on generalities. He is intent on specifics.

To the tax collectors, he tells them “Collect no more than the amount due to you.” To the soldiers, “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusations and be satisfied with your wages.” Even when he addresses the entire crowd, he is specific: “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.”

We might shrug John the Baptist off. After all he’s not Jesus. He’s just a wild and wooly prophet. He’s not “the way,” right? But Luke makes it clear that he is here to prepare the way, to get people ready to receive what Jesus would bring. I wonder if the people hearing him were ready to receive it. After all this time, I wonder if we are. We certainly aren’t ready to hear someone like John point out each of our sins, calling us to turn around, to repent.

But then, the real things that point us to the sins in our lives are no less scary than this red-faced preacher. In fact, maybe they are scarier because we are confronted with the consequences in a real way. Broken communication and taken-for-granted attitudes threaten marriages. Addictions point to deeply broken parts of people’s lives. Separating our bodies from activity, good food, and loving attention has brought on a myriad of health issues that our human species has never had to deal with. We fight wars so we may have luxuries that we’re convinced are necessities, leading us to believe the gospel of the Prince of Peace… is nothing but a hoax.

All this points to something broken, something amiss, something that needs repentance. And it’s scary—wild- and-wooly, red-faced-preacher, John the Baptist-type scary. While it’s easy to ignore people on the TV, or in the ancient Bible stories, or on their soapboxes outside the Mountain Lair on University Avenue telling us to repent, it’s not so easy to ignore the “fruits of our brokenness.”

And as we hold a bushel barrel of all those fruits, we shake our head ask, “What should we do?”

***
This week the eyes of the world have turned to the cold and snowy Scandinavian countries for two monumental occasions. The first occasion, the granting of the Nobel Prizes for which our own war-time President accepted the Nobel Prize for Peace. And the second occasion, the gathering of the world’s most powerful politicians in Cophenhagen, at the UN Climate Change Conference, where nations seek to reach a comprehensive climate agreement.

There are many voices represented at this Conference. Some will not want climate change policy to affect nations’ right to produce and therefore, pollute. Some think it won’t do much to really address the problem. But the world has quickly been made aware that the earth is warming, and humanity’s behaviors has had something to do with it.

Copenhagen stands as a decisive moment for international cooperation. which prompted Prince Charles, the Prince of Wales, to write an article in the most recent Newsweek magazine. I never would have guessed the future king of England to be an environmentalist, but apparently Prince Charles has taken seriously the threat of tropical deforestation, and its contribution to climate change.

Regarding the cooperation that we see in Copenhagen, Prince Charles writes: “While initiatives like this will need to be a part of the solution, they are not, I believe, the whole answer. In some ways the climate [challenge] is not first and foremost due to an absence of sound policy ideas or technology, but more a crisis of perception. As we have become progressively more separate from Nature…we have become less able to see our predicament for what it really is—namely as being utterly out of balance, having lost any sense of harmony with the earth’s natural rhythms, cycles, and finite systems.” [2]

I think Prince Charles, as strange as it may seem, has a good understanding of John the Baptist’s call. Maybe sin is being utterly out of balance with God’s intention. Have you become separated from God’s hope for you? Where is our sense of harmony with the divine desire to move us through the rhythms, cycles, and systems of incarnational love? How are we to repent, to turn from sin? Can we regain balance and unity with God? What should we do?

Well, I can give you the easy to say, hard to apply answer: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your strength, all your mind, and you neighbor as yourself.” But I bet if John the Baptist was here, he’d pop up behind me, pointing over my shoulder at each of you…and at me, saying “You, Carrie, do this.” “You, Mike, do that” “You, Sue, this is what you’ve got to do,” poking us with spoons, the volatile, holiday-weary, uniquely sinful badgers that we are.

The call to attend to each of our own out-of-balance relationships with God--our sinfulness--is terrifying. Artist Jan Richardson reflects “Forget fire, forget winnowing forks, forget threshing floors: amid our daily lives, is there anything more unsettling than receiving a clear word about what it is that we’re meant to do in this world? Is there anything that risks taking us deeper into our insecurities, into our fears, into the dark unknown / than when someone who sees and recognizes and knows us…challenges us to be the person whom God has created and called us to be? And is there anything more full of wonder and hope?”[3]

John the Baptist brings hope in the midst of terror…a reason to rejoice. As Richardson says “This, finally, is what John the Baptist, this preparer of the way, is offering to his hearers: wonders. Possibilities. The invitation to be [welcomed] into a relationship with God’s own incarnate self. As ever, John in his fierce fashion is pointing to—making the way for—the One who comes. And this One comes not for the purpose of terrifying us but of loving us.”

Rejoice. Repent. Today we light the pink Advent Candle, reminding us to rejoice, Christ’s coming is near, the way is being prepared for us.

So what is it in your life that is out of balance, out of harmony? How is sin manifesting itself in your broken relationships, broken health, broken environment of home and church? And take a clue from John the Baptist. Being vague doesn’t help us get to the heart of our brokenness. Take a spoon and poke that very real, very angry badger that is the sin that most affects you this day.

Use the cut out of the Earth to dwell on the balance that you need to bring you’re your life, the sins you need to turn from. Feel free to write them down on the Earth or leave them blank--take them with you, or leave them for our Cosmic Collage. Settle in now, and begin poking.


Prayer
God, bring us back to you. Help us find the harmony you intend for us. Reconnect us with your hope and your intention for our lives. We repent. We rejoice. And we bring these prayers to you, in the words that your son Jesus taught us: Our Father...

[1] Ortberg, John. “Living by the Word,” Christian Century. December 15, 2009
[2] “Green Alert” Newsweek. December 14, 2009.
[3] Jan Richardson, “The Advent Door” www.theadventdoor.com

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Prepare

sermon by Torin Eikler
Second Sunday in Advent
Malachi 3:1-4 Luke 1:68-79

It’s the dark of night, and a brilliant terrorist of sorts exults as the moment he has been planning for draws near. He has maneuvered all the right people into place, and the items he has been searching for are almost in his grasp. Years of work and preparation are coming to a head, promising to bring him the power to plunge the United States and, indeed, the whole world into chaos. Soon … very soon, his masterpiece will be complete, and he will become the greatest warrior in the battle between light and dark. An apocalypse is coming, and he will be the one to tip the balance toward evil and destruction.


I suppose that summary could depict any number of recent movies or books – and, sadly, even some events in real life today. But, what I am actually describing is the overall setting of the newest thriller to come from the pen of Dan Brown, the author of The Da Vinci Code. I’m not talking, here, about Angels and Demons – the movie that recently came out on DVD (though I am excited to see that). I am referring to The Lost Symbol. It is the eagerly awaited third installment of the adventures of symbologist Robert Langdon which came out in book stores about a month and a half ago. It is, as you might expect if you’re familiar with Brown’s writing, a bit of a cliff-hanger filled with mysterious writings, clever plot twists based on misinterpretation, and good deal of mystical symbolism.

But, while all those little details are what makes the story engaging and fun to read, the truth is that the deeper theme of the book is one of preparation … preparation for an apocalypse, or if you prefer, a revelation. There is, as seems to be a running theme in our world, a sea change coming – a time when a profound truth will be revealed and humanity will be transformed. In what amounts to a moment on the timeline of history, we will come to understand ourselves and our world in a new light, and a new age of light – a golden age – will come on earth.

Does that sound at all familiar? It should. Not only is that the theme of the book of Revelation, it is also embedded, as Dan Brown points out (can you feel the irony here), in the teachings of Jesus as recorded in all four of the gospels. But even more to the point, the words of both prophets this morning envision just such a time coming – Malachi at some unspecified time in the future and Zechariah at the very specific moment of Christ’s birth. And the implication is, in the words of Isaiah and John the Baptist, that we need to “prepare the way of the Lord.” We need to make straight the crooked paths of the wilderness, fill in the valleys, clear away the hills and mountains, and smooth the rough patches so that the way is clear for the Word – the truth and power of God – to burst into our world.

It has always seemed strange to me – that prophetic call to prepare. There’s really no way that we can do what’s asked of us. We can’t really knock down the all mountains or fill in the valleys, though humanity has done a lot of that over the years. And even if we could smooth out the rough patches and prepare a nice straight path in the wilderness, there is very little chance that we could find the right wilderness. And besides all that, the power of God is more than enough to change the face of reality on its own. Clearly, all the imagery is a metaphor for something else – something we can prepare.


As it is advent, this seems like an appropriate time to share one particular story of preparation. Less than a year ago now, Carrie and I were anxiously awaiting the arrival of our second son. We had been through nine months – well really eight months, I suppose – of waiting with all the excitement of pre-natal visits that slowly reveal the wonder of a new life through the sound of a heart beat and, eventually, the vision of a small person moving around on a green and black screen. We knew that the tell-tale signs of Alistair’s arrival would be coming any day, and though we knew that some pretty important things needed to be done before we left for the hospital, we resisted the urge to pack things up in readiness.

With Sebastian it had been very different. After months of readiness classes, we arrived at the time we had been told to get everything packed up in preparation. So, we packed up two bags: one filled with clothes, tooth brushes and other necessities and one with all sorts of balls, candles, and other things to help with focus and comfort during labor. We got the baby seat properly installed in the car. We spent hours preparing a play list on our laptop so that Carrie would have just the right mix of energetic and relaxing music in the background. We even packed a couple of our favorite DVDs just in case there was a bit of down time in the progression of labor.

Then, we waited… and waited… and waited. (pause) Five weeks later, we called the doctor to report fairly regular contractions (this was the second time we called), and he told us to go on in to the hospital. We stayed there even though things were not all that far along because we were only a couple of days from the point where we’d have to have labor induced anyway, and about 23 hours later, Sebastian was born. In all that time, we had only used one of the things we packed – the music.

So, as the time of Alistair’s birth drew closer, we both kind of felt like with one son already demanding our attention, we didn’t really want to have a whole lot of energy tied up in anxious waiting. We knew what to expect, after all, and there was still lots of time to pack up and get ready.

Oh yes, we knew what to expect, and we were completely caught off guard when Alistair decided to come nearly a week early! Over-confidence and the distractions of life left us with nothing packed. No labor helps ready. No music cued up. And, the car seat was still in the attic. But there are times when we are in control and times when events control us. So, while I threw a few things in a bag for Carrie, my mother helped get her into the car. Just two hours later it was all over … it had just begun.

In hind sight, I suppose we had everything we needed. We had pre-registered at the hospital. Our parents were coming turns to help with the time of adjustment and recovery. In any case, there wouldn’t have been time to use any of the things we might have brought anyway. And, we had the most important thing ready at the drop of a hat – a space in our hearts and minds for the new baby that was about to burst into our lives.


And, of course, that’s the key to the prophesies as well. There is no need for us to pour over books trying to figure out where to lay a highway. There is no need for us to change anything around us. What is asked of us is that we look inside ourselves and prepare the way for God to burst into our hearts and our souls – to lay wipe away the things that stand in the way and bridge the chasms that divide us from the One who brings the light of salvation to “those who sit in darkness” and new life to those who dwell “in the shadow of death.”

But all this is nothing new. We already know the true meaning of the Baptist’s call. If we’ve been paying attention, we’ve heard about it every Advent since we can remember, and even if we haven’t, it’s not all that hard to figure out with just a bit of curiosity and thought. And, my guess is that our familiarity with these words is one of the biggest mountains standing in our way.


Yes, we all know that we are meant to prepare ourselves for the coming of Christ into our lives. And, I’d venture to say that we even know what that means. If not, we were reminded by Zechariah this morning that we need to remember the promise of salvation, repent, and be forgiven of our sins. What that means for each of us is different, and we each have our own ways of getting our souls ready. But, every year as we prepare for the coming of the baby in the manger, we hear this reminder and it rolls right past us. We know what to expect and there isn’t any urgency. There will be four Sundays of Advent with the appropriate candles and our favorite Christmas hymns. There will be a Christmas dinner with a play staged by the children – with some help. The longest night will come and go, and we’ll gather for Christmas Eve to honor the coming of Christ. Then, Christmas will come and go, and it will all happen again next year. It’s important to us, but so are other things.

So, we let ourselves be distracted by all the other parts of life. We get our Christmas tree ready. We get ready to bake all the special things that are traditional for us. We make our plans for the time we will spend with family and the parties we’ll go to with our friends. We make space for the end of the semester push and the special activities that go along with it. We buzz around shopping for presents. Sometimes, we feel like we should be doing things a little differently, that we should focus on something more spiritual. But, we think we’ll find time for that in the midst of everything else that really must be done if we are to stick to the schedule.

And yes I know that all this is nothing new either. This picture of the business of life crowding out the presence of Christ is common fodder from the pulpit, and we are all (Carrie and I included) used to hearing (or saying) it and going right on with our lives.

But, here’s the thing – and I hope we’ll all still our minds enough to hear it this time. What we are celebrating at Christmas is amazing. God came down to earth, not clouded in glory or shining with power, but as a human baby. God became human – lived and died along with us so that the world could be made new through the power and faith of each one who believes. And that such a thing would happen surprised everyone … even those who had been preparing the way. Even John the Baptist who was born to testify to the coming of the Messiah sent his disciples to ask if Jesus was the One because things were not going as expected.

The voice of the prophets, the voice of the one crying in the wilderness, the voice of Jesus, the voice of the Spirit speaking in our inner ear. Some shout. Some whisper. But they all come to disrupt our lives, to break into the routines and traditions that numb our perceptions as they carry us along. They surprise us – ask us to stop for a moment and look at our lives and ourselves and see that this is not all that we are meant for. They call us to prepare the way. This time around, let’s listen.

We’ve already started. Last week Carrie helped us clear away some of the brush that clogs the way when she invited us to write down the fears that hold us back on storm clouds so that they could be swept away by the breath of the Spirit. In your bulletins this week, you’ll find a sun symbolizing the light from on high breaking into our lives. I invite you to use this as a focus for prayer during our time of waiting worship. Write on them if you wish … or not. Feed into the light the heavy mountains and the dark valleys that keep you from God. Offer them up for the power of its heat to burn away everything unworthy. The promise we have is that the work will be done for us, that God will make straight the path if we will just take the first step.

Let us keep silence together as we open ourselves to the refiner’s fire and be made pure so that we are ready – ready for the Prince of Peace to burst in on us and lead us down to path to what we are meant to be.