andygoodliff

Wonder of the World: A Christmas Sermon

In the year 4 BC if you had the money and if you had the time, you could have visited all seven wonders of the world: The giant pyramid at Giza, the hanging gardens of Babylon, the statue of Zeus at Olympia, the temple of Artemis in Ephesus, the mausoleum of Halikarnassos, the Colossus at Rhodes, and the Pharos Lighthouse of Alexandria. This was a known list that was written about.

Each one was a wonder. Each was something astonishing to behold. Each was a testament to human ability to imagine, create, and construct. Each was funded and ordered by those with immense power and wealth.

The giant pyramid at Giza, was the oldest, the largest, and the only one you can still visit today. It was a tomb for a Pharoah. Imagine the effort by so many, for the benefit of one man. The hanging gardens were exquisitely beautiful, an oasis of lush green, an human created mountain paradise of trees, and shrubs, and plants. The giant statue of Zeus, the god of gods, was located in the place where the Olympic games were held. Where men were attempting to be god-like, the ultimate god took the form of the ultimate man. The temple of Artemus was a breath-taking sight, a thirteen-step podium, columns 58 feet tall and the whole building 360 feet long. It was magnificent. The Mausoleum at Hali-kar-nassos, another giant tomb, was built to remember and celebrate the life of Maus-olos. The Colossus of Rhodes was a huge bronze statue, a representation of the god of the sun. It’s name is where we get the word colossal from. Although by 4 BC it was no long standing, having fallen due to an earthquake, you could still visit it, where it lay.    The Phar-os Lighthouse, was a symbol of light and learning, a symbol of salvation. An ancient skyscraper. At night, the furnaces burned so bright, it could be mistaken for a star. I’m telling you about these seven ancient wonders, because to be human is to create things that make us wonder, to stretch our senses to marvel at that which seems almost unbelievable in scale, in design, in intricacy, in beauty. Even now a building can do that or a live moment can do that, and we can find ourselves lost in wonder, in amazement, in awe.

The seven ancient wonders were about power, might, wealth. They were about prestige and importance, about life and death. They were an attempt at eternalness.

In comparison the events of Christmas, of a baby lying in a manger, in an ordinary downstairs room where animals were kept, in an ordinary house,

in an unremarkable town, are without spectacle. This baby born to ordinary woman, with no fame or wealth or power. Here doesn’t look like a wonder of the world. This baby born in a stable is a stark opposite to those seven ancient wonders. The nativity scene speaks of poverty and powerlessness, it speaks of humility and weakness. And yet the carols we sing, the story we proclaim, the faith we confess, declares this birth a wonder of wonders. There is something wonderful in the birth of Jesus. Angels sing, shepherds run, wise men travel great distances. The arrival of God does not come in greatness, it is not marked by huge structures. It comes in the breath of a tiny life, it is marked by a gurgle.

In the year 4 BC you could have visited all seven wonders of the world, but the kind of wonder that stretches minds and hearts, the kind of wonder that cannot be contained, that cannot be fully described, is beheld in Mary’s child, who will be named Jesus. Like the seven wonders of the world, the wonder of Jesus is about life, and will be about death, and will be about eternity. Thirty years later, many will wonder at the things Jesus says, at the things Jesus does. And another three years later, at his death, a centurion will wonder that Jesus is the son of God. And three days after that, there will be wondering at an empty tomb, where his body had been laid, and then there will be untold wonder at seeing Jesus alive, wondrous in body and breath, fully alive in every way.

Our world is full of wonders, full of marvellous sights, full of moments of great joy, and they should be recognised as such, but there is wonder at Christmas that lasts for ever: the unrepeatable gift of Jesus. Here is the wonder of God becoming flesh, here is the wonder of God’s decision to be with us, here is the wonder of God’s love — heart, and breath and bones.

May you be filled to overflowing with Christmas wonder and discover afresh the wonderful grace of God that is for you and the whole world.Amen.

X Marks the Spot: A Christmas Sermon

Earlier this year Tim and I read Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island. You might have read it too or seen the Muppet version. I remember as a child having it on cassette tape. A young boy called Jim ends up with a map that identifies an island where a pirate’s treasure is buried. It’s a great story, and so for those who don’t know it, I won’t say anything more which might spoil it. Treasure Island was one of the first stories written where there is a map with an ‘X’ that marks the spot. Treasure maps always now have an X that marks the spot.

There’s something in our imagination that likes the idea of a map leading to hidden treasure. I wonder how you’d feel if someone this morning gave you a map and said you need to follow this to find your presents? But more than presents, I wonder what is, or who is, the treasure you are searching for? What is it in life that you most want? What promised treasure would make you go to any length to find it?

The Christmas story is a story of treasure being found.

We might think of the Old Testament as like a map, a map with an X that marks the spot. The story of Israel is a map of promises: a child will be born — a prince of peace (Isa 9.6); a new king from the line of king David (Jer 33.15); a new shepherd of God’s people (Ezek 34.23); a new prophet like Moses (Deut 18.18); a ruler who will come from Bethlehem (Micah 5.2); a son of man coming on the clouds of heaven (Dan 7.13); a king riding a donkey (Zec 9.9); a servant who will bring God’s justice (Is 42.1); and a baby born to a virgin, and given the name Immanuel (Isa 7:14). God leaves clues to this treasure. It’s a map that wasn’t a straightforward to follow, but makes more sense after the treasure is found.

The Christmas story includes magi or wise men, who make a long journey from the east following a star — this is their map — they cross deserts and rivers, they travel through cold nights and scorching days, seeking the ‘x’ — the final destination of the star, believing it will lead them to someone to be treasured, to be worshipped. ‘Go and search carefully’ for the treasure they are told by one person they meet on their journey. They wonder where the star will stop. The ‘x’ ends up being in Bethlehem.

The Christmas story also includes shepherds who aren’t looking for anything, just going about their business, watching their sheep, perhaps warming themselves by a fire on a cold hillside. But angels appear and give them a map, a destination, and a sign to know when they’ve found the treasure. ‘You will find’ the angels say talking about the treasure. And off the shepherds hurry with their map.

God brings his greatest treasure, from heaven all the way to tiny Bethlehem. This most wondrous gift, full of grace and glory and truth, wrapped in cloth and laid in a manger. X marks the spot. Angels longed to see, prophets searched to find and after all the waiting, following, and searching God’s treasure is now revealed.

God’s treasure is nothing less than God himself. All this following and searching leads to God in human flesh. This is the great joy for all people including you and me. This is God’s gift of peace to the earth. This is Immanuel. This is the X on the map. Jesus Christ, or in Greek Xristos — the first letter being a ‘X’. Some people like to shorten Christmas to ‘Xmas’ and for other people this gets them really cross, and they say ‘its Christmas not Xmas.’ But in the letter X we are reminded that in what we are celebrating today is the greatest treasure the world has ever and will ever know. This is where it all leads, to this place, to this day, to this moment: a child lying in a manger in Bethlehem. This child who is the ‘Christ’ — the promised Saviour, the glory of God among us. The birth of Jesus marks the spot 'where God determines to be with us for ever, come what may. This is the heart of it all.' This is mystery of it all. This is wonder of it all.

What do you do with this treasure? Finding the X on the map, finding the treasure buried, is not the end, it’s a new beginning. The journey doesn’t end with Christmas, it goes on, in a new way. In his famous poem about the Magi, T. S. Eliot ends with the magi returning home, but no longer at ease, because finding Jesus had changed them. They were different people. This treasure has the ability to change our lives. In finding Jesus, we have been made rich beyond measure; rich not in terms of money, but rich in love, rich in mercy, rich in a different way of living. X marks the spot. The spot where God says here is my greatest treasure, now what?

May you know the riches of Jesus. May you find the treasure of God. And of course let me wish you a very happy Xmas!

Three Welcomes: A Christmas Sermon

(Sing) ‘Welcome everybody, it’s good to see you here.’ Let me say I hope you feel a warm welcome this morning. It is very true today that it’s good to see you here. I wonder if you’ve welcomed anyone recently? Perhaps someone to your home to visit in the last few days, perhaps someone new at work or at school in the last few months, perhaps you have welcomed someone to Belle Vue, perhaps even this morning. I wonder what you said and what you did to make the person feel welcome.

The word welcome means ‘desired guest’? It’s made up of two Old English words — wella meaning desire and cuma meaning guest. I’m talking about welcome because I want to suggest that it is a good way to look at the Christmas story. At the heart of this story is welcome.

At the beginning of the Nativity story, there is the visit of the angel Gabriel to Mary. Gabriel brings news of great joy — of blessing, salvation, of conception. The news though is dependent upon Mary’s welcome: is the son announced, one that she can welcome as a desired guest? It is not altogether clear that the angel’s words are welcome ones. She is young, betrothed, but not yet married, she is a virgin. To accept the angel’s words will have consequences and quite possibly dangerous ones. There is also no sign that Mary is longing for a child, at least at this moment, there is no sign that Mary is ready for a child, if one can ever be ready. And yet Mary determines to be one who welcomes, who welcomes God into her very life, to give her body over as a host of the divine, and carry God within her womb. (Sing) How silently, how silently, the wondrous gift is given, and welcomed. Mary’s welcome is joined with her relative’s Elizabeth’s welcome: Blessed are you, she says to Mary and blessed is your child. This child Mary carries is a desired guest.

Every year Bethlehem gets bad report. We create a story of innkeepers saying there is no room. We create a story of unwelcome. ‘Because there was no room for them in the inn’ is the way these words have often been translated, but the better wording is ‘because there was no room for them in the guest room.’ Joseph and Mary were travelling to Bethlehem because Joseph was from the house of David, He was returning to family — how often would Joseph have travelled to Bethlehem, whenever he made the pilgrimage to Jerusalem? There was no room in the family guest room, because Joseph wasn’t the only one coming to Bethlehem. The whole of Bethlehem was 'surg[ing] with the influx of relatives coming to register, and every corner of every house hosted someone.' The whole town worked to make room for everyone. Luke describes a full house — all the rooms have someone staying in them and the only space left by the time Mary and Joseph arrive is the open stall area among the livestock, where a manger stood. The house was 'bursting at the seams', but Joseph and Mary would have been there for meals around the table, part of the family, welcomed as desired guests. When Mary’s labour began, she would not have been alone, but the other women in the home would have been on hands to help, to be with her as she welcomed her child into the world.* The arrival of Jesus, is welcomed by Mary, by Joseph, by those they were staying with, by all of Bethlehem in the form of shepherds, by all of heaven in the form of angels. Jesus is the desired guest who arrives. He is welcomed as a royal guest, He is welcomed as a promised saviour.

We have explored how Jesus was welcomed, but I want to step back and turn the welcome around, for Christmas is not first how we welcome God, but instead it is the story of God’s welcome of us. God taking human flesh, God being born a baby is the desire of God to welcome us, to see us as a desired guest in creation, in heaven and earth, in the life of God. What we celebrate at Christmas is God reaching out to welcome us. We live in God’s world, we live in God’s story, and the gift of Christmas, the incarnation of Jesus, is to announce God’s welcome: Jesus is God’s welcome in flesh and blood.

Christmas is a lesson in welcome: may we learn from Mary and Bethlehem what it means to welcome God and to welcome one another into our lives. But its more than a lesson it a message to broadcast everywhere: that God welcomes us, welcome is part of the very nature of God and God calls, summons, invites, longs, for us to welcome him. ‘Come and let me be born in you’, Jesus says to each one of you. ‘Come and let me be born among you’, Jesus says to this community.

(Sing) O holy child of Bethlehem, descend to us, we pray; cast out our sin, and enter in;  be born in us today. We hear the Christmas angels  the great glad tidings tell; O come to us, abide with us, our Lord Immanuel.

 

* This section has borrowed from Kelly Nikondeha, The First Advent in Palestine (Broadleaf, 2022), 83-85.

A Christmas Congregation: A Sermon

In the early hours a congregation gathers.
Some are just arriving; others have already found somewhere to sit.
There is the usual whispered conversation.
This is the first time this particular congregation has come together.
Present are:
a husband and wife;
a bunch of shepherds;
and some mysterious travellers from the east.
They are joined by animals: a cow, a donkey, a sheep, and a camel.
It’s an unusual bunch.
All have gathered to worship the Christ-child.
This is the first Christmas.

Footwear is removed, for like Moses before the burning bush,
to everyone it feels like a holy place.
All are on their knees;
all eyes gazing on the tiny flesh.
This is a sacred moment.
Words of scripture are shared:
‘For to us a child is born, to us a son is given.’
‘But you Bethlehem, though you are small,
out of you will come for me, one who will be ruler over Israel.’
‘And he will be called Immanuel.’
Praises are sung, ‘Glory to God in the highest’
and gifts are given.
This is the first Christmas.

Someone has some bread, its broken and shared.
One of the travellers passes round a flask of wine.
A small meal, gratefully received by all.
It feels like manna from heaven,
in the early hours of a new day.
Everything feels strange. It is as if something new is beginning,
but its hard to put into words.
The child cries in the manger,
wrapped up tight to keep out the cold.
All eyes remained fixed on his face,
overjoyed in his presence,
hearts wondering at what this birth means.
This is the first Christmas.

In to the silence one by one the congregation
speaks a testimony,
a story of how they came to be here.
A star rising drew the eastern travellers to make their journey;
angels, say the shepherds, in the sky singing of good news in David’s city;
a messenger from God says Mary; a heavenly dream says Joseph,
and of course also Caesar’s census — otherwise they’d be back in Galilee.
They all sense the mysterious ways of God
that has led them to share in this moment of grace,
to join in the welcome of this baby:
a Saviour, a Messiah, the Son of God, the Lord of lords.
Nothing is said. Silence falls on the congregation.
The only sound is the murmur of the child,
sleeping in the manger.
This is the first Christmas.

The congregation gathers.
Some are still slipping in at the back as the first carol is sung,
Others have been greeting one another with a merry Christmas.
There are children holding presents,
and parents bleary-eyed, stifling a yawn.
Old and young, all have made their way,
some have walked, some have come by other means,
but there are no donkeys or camels.
This is Christmas.

What connects today with that first Christmas?
What is it that draws a congregation to gather on December the 25th?
What’s the meaning of it all?
It’s the story and promise of God with us.
Jesus is God with us.
And as they gathered at that first Christmas,
to worship the Christ-child,
so we gather still.
Every year this day is broken up by our coming to worship,
every week our lives are broken up by worship because of this day.
The worship of Jesus begins at Christmas.
We keep celebrating Christmas, we keep gathering as a congregation,
because we believe that the one who is born
‘bears within himself the whole truth and nothing but the truth
about us and about all that exists.’ *
What was true of that child in the manger is still true today:
Jesus is Saviour and Lord.
It is that simple and that astonishing.
The Jesus born of Mary
is the same Jesus who we say is alive today.
The old, old story of angels and shepherds, wise men and stars
and a baby born in Bethlehem
is an always new, new story because it speaks of God become flesh.
In Jesus we see the Creator become a creature.
In Jesus we see the One who conceived all things be conceived in a womb
and born in a stable.
In our singing of carols,
in our bringing of gifts,
in our telling the story,
in our lighting of candles,
in our breaking of bread,
Jesus is as close to us
as he was to those present on that first Christmas day.

To be near Jesus,
to know Jesus
is to know and receive joy.
One of my favourite descriptions in the first Christmas story is
where it says the magi ‘were overjoyed.’
They were overwhelmed with joy.
There was an abundance of joy.
Too much joy.
Joy is the gift that comes with the Christ-child.
Jesus is our joy. His presence is the gift of joy.
Joy comes on Christmas morning
and we leave going with joy,
because we go with Christ.
We are overjoyed because we live in a world in which Christ is present.
Joy is not the same as happiness.
Happiness is a feeling, an emotion, that comes and goes.
Joy stays with us, because Christ stays with us,
even through unhappy days.
So I hope you have a happy Christmas,
but more importantly I pray you have a joyful Christmas.
As that first congregation experienced the joy of Jesus,
lying in a manger,
the fullness of God’s love,
so we all these later still experience that same joy of Jesus,
as he fills our hearts
with his love, beauty and truth and presence.
Joy to the world, the Lord has come.
Joy to the earth, the Saviour reigns.
He comes to make his blessings flow.
Joy to you, for Jesus is here.

 

* Chris Green, All Things Beautiful: An Aesthetic Christology (Baylor, 2021)

An Interrupted Christmas: A Sermon

I wonder when was the last time you were interrupted? It might have been someone cutting across you as you were speaking. It might have been a happening that interrupted the way you thought your day was going to go. It was almost definitely the way you thought your Christmas was going to go. The emergence of the virus has interrupted nearly the whole of this year.

The Christmas story is a story of interruptions. We begin with Mary. Mary’s busy at home, and is interrupted by an angel, to tell her that her life is going to be interrupted by God and a pregnancy. We turn to Joseph. He’s excited to be getting married, then everything gets interrupted by news that Mary is pregnant, but before he can end things, his dreams get interrupted by an angel again, telling him to hold fast to the marriage. Having barely got to grips with the pregnancy and the marriage, both Mary and Joseph lives get interrupted by Caesar and his census, and a journey they now have to make to Bethlehem. Once at Bethlehem, the baby is born, and then as they are dealing with these first few hours, they get interrupted by uninvited visitors in the shape of some shepherds — these shepherds have themselves been interrupted on their cold night by angels (again!) who have turned up to tell them the news of this birth. Some time later another interruption comes in the form of a visit of magi, whose lives had been interrupted by a star, and then by Herod. Following the visit of these eastern travellers, Mary and Joseph and the baby find their stay in Bethlehem comes to an abrupt end through the violent intentions of Herod, and they have to flee all the way to Egypt to kept the child safe.

God is one who likes to interrupt, to interrupt the world, to interrupt our lives, with his grace, with his unrelenting love. And at the same time the world — in the nativity story represented by Casear and Herod — like to make their own interruptions, interruptions of power and violence, interruptions of demand and dominance. In the middle of all of this are Mary and Joseph, and a baby. In the middle of this are you and me.

And this baby is the greatest interrupter of them all, not just because that is what the arrival of children does to adults lives (!), but in this baby is the arrival of God himself. God chooses to interrupt our time, our history, our humanity, out of a desire, a love, a commitment to be with us for ever. This baby is the definitive interruption and revelation of God ever to be seen.

And Mary and Joseph, and you and me, are confronted by the question of whether we welcome the interruption of this baby in our lives, to allow who we are to be re-directed, re-ordered, re-newed in ways that mirror the God-child. This interruption of Jesus can be sudden and dramatic, but it can also be slow, hidden, giving way to a surprise. Christmas says be ready to have your lives interrupted, God is coming to unsettle the powers, to disturb our stories with the glory of heaven, with his wondrous mercy. This Christmas, the hardest perhaps we’ve ever had to face, will we be like Mary and Joseph, the shepherds and magi, and become part of Christ’s interrupting people? Announcing in word and song and action the justice and joy, the peace and presence, the love and life that is Jesus and the kingdom.

This Christmas as we continue to live within the interruption of this virus, with the interruption of growing poverty, on-going racism, and an inert response to the climate emergency, Jesus comes to us, the ever new hope for a world that turns every interruption whether from God or not, into an opportunity for truth and grace to be sown into the fabric of the world, and the beating of hearts. May our interrupted Christmas give way to the newness of God.

Glory to the God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favour rests.

Ladder: A Christmas Sermon

How can I explain Christmas this year?

This is my tenth year in attempting to help you get this story again.

I enjoy the challenge of seeing if I can find something different to say.

The story of Christmas does not change,

but it's a story which we can never exhaust its meaning,

because the story is of the Incarnation,

of God becoming human;

of the invisible, almighty, transcendent, creator God

being born in the same way you and I were born.

How on earth does God become human and yet remain God?

Why on earth would God subject himself to the fragility and vulnerability of being

born?

What on earth does God think He is doing coming close to a humanity that is so

hostile, indifferent, and full of their own importance?

These are questions that are begged when we say

that in Jesus we see God in the flesh.

 

What have I got to say to you this year?

It’s this: think of the Christmas story like a ladder.

At the top of the ladder is heaven

and at the bottom of the ladder is earth.

Up the ladder to heaven,

down the ladder to earth.

In the book of Genesis we read that:

Jacob falls a sleep, a stone for a pillow,

and he dreams,

he dreams he sees a ladder between heaven and earth

and on this ladder are angels descending and ascending.

I never get dreams like that!

At the top of the ladder is God and God speaks,

God speaks blessing and promise

and the promise includes God saying

‘I am with you

I will watch over you wherever you go.

I will not leave you.’

Jacob wakes up and realises

that God was in this place,

that it was the house of God,

the gate of heaven

and calls it Bethel, meaning house of God.

 

Jacob in this dream gets an early glimpse of the Christmas story.

He sees a preview of the good news.

What is this good news?

The good news is that there is 'traffic between heaven and earth',

there’s a way between them.

In the story of the tower of Babel,

human beings attempt to build a tower to heaven,

God shows Jacob that there is already a ladder that exists

between heaven and earth.

God has always been engaged, concerned, involved.

We are not left to our resources

and heaven is not a remote realm.

'Heaven has to do with earth

and earth can count on heaven.' *

 

The joy of Christmas

is that God himself descends to earth,

he comes down the ladder,

born of Mary,

and placed in a manger.

Meekness and majesty met,

the Lord of eternity here dwells in humanity.

This stable in Bethlehem is a new Bethel,

a new house of God.

The word of promise to Jacob:

‘I am with you’

takes on a new fulfilment as we behold Jesus, Immanuel,

God is with us.

 

And God descends

in order that we might ascend,

that we might be raised up with Christ.

When Jesus at the end of his ministry,

after his death, following his resurrection,

ascends back to heaven

he ascends the fully human one.

The Lord of infinity, stoops down,

to lift our humanity to the heights of his throne.

God’s promise to Jacob to watch over and never leave,

finds new fulfilment as Jesus takes us for ever into the heart of God.

 

This good news that God has descended,

that God has come to earth Himself,

gives way to an even greater truth:

this ladder that Jacob sees,

is actually Jesus.

He is the bridge between heaven and earth.

In him all things in heaven and on earth hold together.

Jesus is Bethel.

Jesus is the Gate.

Jesus is the Way.

Jesus brings heaven to earth,

and Jesus takes humanity into heaven for ever.

Jesus is not merely a window into heaven,

a window into what God is like;

Jesus is God in the flesh.

Jesus is the God–man,

Jesus is fully God and fully human.

He is the Ladder that holds heaven and earth together.

He is the living Temple where God’s presence is found.

He is the Torah, the living Word of God, speaking Truth.

He is the sacrificial Lamb that wipes away Sin.

He is the Lampstand, the Light that conquerors darkness.

He is the Manna, the Bread of life that is given for the world.

He is the true Shepherd, who searches for the lost, binds up the injured,

and strengthens the weak.

He is the Vine, abundant in fruitfulness and holiness from root to stem.

He is the High Priest, who leads people to God.

He is the Rock from which living water flows.

He is the Trumpet that sounds defeat to God’s enemies.

He is the Rainbow, God’s everlasting covenant with all creation.

He is the Tree of Life, full of God’s knowledge.

He is the Eternal Love of God located in time and space.

 

Here lying in a manger,

heaven and earth meet in Jesus.

This is news of great joy,

for here we see that Jacob’s dream,

was not just a dream,

but is now made real.

The heart of God has always been to be with us.

This is news of great joy and hope.

For Christmas celebrates that the birth of Jesus

redefines everything,

because in Jesus, God has committed himself to us for ever;

God has willed to cast his lot with us,

for our blessing, for our protection, for our salvation.

This is news of great joy and hope and love.

For God sending his Son

is a gift of love.

God gives himself with love and for love,

and this gift awakens in us,

does a work of transformation in us,

compels and calls us, to love others with the love

with which we have been embraced in Jesus.

God comes to us because God loves us

and desires to see that same love grow in us.

God is love and in Jesus we see that imaged in human flesh,

and we are being born again into that image, into that likeness.

 

So sing today of the joy of Jesus,

of the hope of Jesus, of the love of Jesus,

for he is the ladder,

that binds heaven to earth,

the bridge on which God’s love and mercy,

justice and peace,

cross over to us in a never–ending flow.

Glory to God in the high heaven

and peace on earth on whom his favour rests.

Amen!

 

* The couple of quotes here are lifted from Walter Brueggemann, Genesis (1982), 243

Story and Promise: A Christmas Sermon

Those of us who are Christians are a strange bunch.

Every December we make a pilgrimage to the little town of Bethlehem

and then later in March and April we make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.

We tell the same story over and over again.

Its on annual repeat mode.

Out comes the manager, out comes the cross, out comes the tomb.

This year marks my nineth time telling the story in this church.

Nine years of reminding you why the story matters

more than anything else in all the world.

The story is a particular story,

a story rooted in time and history.

You can’t get behind this story to some general myth

and you can’t take a moral from this story to be applied to living.

All we have is this story

rooted in time and history.

 

We go to the town of Bethlehem and the city of Jerusalem,

because the story hinges on what happens in both these places.

In Bethlehem the story begins with an eventful birth.

In Jerusalem the story reaches a climax in a death,

which looks like an ending,

but is followed by a raising back to life and a new beginning.

We tell this story and the places in which the story happened

because they tell us of Jesus,

in whom the whole story rests

and with it, all existence: past, present and future.

The story rests with Jesus

because of the outrageous claim

that at Bethlehem the birth of Jesus

is not like any other birth,

but the birth of God himself.

God takes flesh,

God becomes human,

God becomes one like us.

In Bethlehem. To Mary.

‘The eternal love of God locates itself in time and space,

and so becomes datable.’ [i]

The creator becomes part of creation.

The author becomes part of the story.

And so it's a story, but it also news,

good news — the gospel.

Good news of the God who loves without end.

And as well as a being a story, and good news,

it is also a promise —

the birth of Jesus

the life, death and resurrection of Jesus

are the promise of God that

God will be God with us and we will be with God,

now and for ever.

Jesus is Immanuel

who will save us from our sins.

This story, news and promise

is not a story, a piece of news or a promise

amongst others,

but, we say at Christmas and at Easter

and whenever we gather,

Jesus is the story, the news, the promise

that makes sense of all other stories,

that interprets all other news,

that outdoes all other promises.

Something new begins at the birth of Jesus:

a new age, a new time, a new creation

that through the life of the one born

the redeeming, transforming, rescuing

of all things for the freedom of creation,

and the glory and joy of God.

Because this story says that

the world Jesus enters is one in thrall and subjection

to evil powers.

God comes in the life of Jesus to bind these forces up

and to undo their death dealing ways;

ways that trade in hostility, exploitation and lies.

The story of Bethlehem, the story of the birth of Jesus,

is caught up with and in danger from these powers.

King Herod was one who exploited those he ruled,

Herod was one hostile to the news of the birth,

Herod was one who lied about his intent,

Herod was one who ordered death in response.

He is the epitome of the deathly Powers.

The story at Bethlehem begins in vulnerability

and depends on the courage and willingness of a young woman,

the humility and kindness of her husband,

the wisdom and understanding of foreign visitors

that Jesus might be protected,

Mary, Joseph and the Magi become co-conspirators in God’s salvation plan.

 

Today we have arrived once again in Bethlehem,

we indwell the story in all its messy grace,

we share in the undeserved joy of the good news,

we take hold of the unconditional promise

and welcome Jesus.

For in this story

we cannot get away from the one who arrives at Bethlehem

and leads us to Jerusalem.

And its not because everyone loves a baby,

But because, like the Magi,

when we see this child we cannot help but worship at his feet.

We have pinned our lives on Jesus,

or perhaps more truthfully,

we have found ourselves caught by Jesus

and discovered we don’t want to let go,

for all worries, all our hopes and fears,

are met in him and held by him today.

The knowledge and the promise that

Jesus is Immanuel gives us peace, shalom.

We too find ourselves becoming co-conspirators in God’s salvation plan.

 

And if you are here this morning,

and thinking yep he was right when he said Christians are a strange bunch,

I pray that today the Holy Spirit

will help you hear the story,

will cause you to respond to the good news,

and enable you to receive the promise.

You’ll find nothing will ever be the same again.

Amen and happy Christmas!

 

[i] Colin Gunton, Yesterday and Today (1982)

Announcements: A Christmas Sermon

I wonder if you’ve announced anything this year? An engagement, a wedding, a birth, a new job, a graduation? Politicians are announcing things all the time. It's one announcement after another in Luke’s gospel. Angels pop up everywhere – in the temple in Jerusalem, in the town of Nazareth in Galilee, on a hillside outside Bethlehem. Each time the angel has news to announce. Angels after all are messengers. They have a message to announce. If Christmas is anything it's a time of announcement. The wait of Advent is over, there is news now to proclaim.

The announcement on each occasion, to Zechariah, to Mary and to the shepherds is first ‘Do not be afraid.’ In a world, in which announcements can often be ones which fill us with fear, that leave us ‘greatly troubled’ or simply terrified, the announcement of the angels is ‘Fear not.’ In Luke’s telling of the story he names some reasons why Zechariah, Mary and the shepherds might be afraid. Yes an angel has appeared, but at the same time, and a source of more on-going fear are the names of Herod and Caesar. Herod and Caesar ruled by making sure they were feared. They traded on fear to keep the people under control. I wonder what names make you afraid? God comes to us to say do not be afraid, do not let your lives be marked by constant fear. Christmas is the announcement, that God has come to make us less afraid. God has come to cast out fear, by causing us to overwhelmed by the opposite of fear: joy. Do not be afraid. I bring you news of great joy!

The second part of the announcement is that this is a message of good news, joy-bringing news. Why should we not be afraid, because God has good news. Into the world, a world of kings and kingdoms, emperors and empires, comes news that will bring rulers down from their thrones, and see  the humbled lifted up: a Saviour has been born. Where the announcements to Zechariah and Mary, were of good news coming, the shepherds receive good news for today. No waiting – the good news of great joy is alive and kicking! The good news is lying in a manger. When a baby is born, nearly always, the announcement is one of joy, life has come into the world, with all the promise and potential that they bring. Hardly ever though do we claim that a new child is a saviour, but this is the astonishing announcement of the angels. God’s gift of salvation to the world, begins not at the resurrection, not at the cross, but in the birth of Jesus. God’s joy bursts forth in a bundle of arms and legs. God’s love pours out in glorious song. Here in Jesus, is the marriage of heaven and earth, and that is something to celebrate.

The final piece of the announcement is something happens to us. Zechariah is silenced, Mary’s womb is filled with growing life, the shepherds are unable to sit still, they have to go and see. There is a definite place for silence at Christmas, amongst all the noise and singing, all the feasting and laughing, there is space for being silent before the manger, allowing the wonder of this birth to fill our hearts once again. Like Mary to treasure and ponder the gift of Christ Jesus the Lord. There is a definite place for life at Christmas, to open ourselves to God to grow his life in us, to become impregnated with the promise: the truth, the grace, the love, the joy, the faith, the hope that is God with us. To let fear go from our hearts and allow the Holy Spirit to overshadow us that we become children of God. Like Mary to say, ‘May your word to me be fulfilled.’ And there is definite place to go and see at Christmas, to go and find the manger, to hurry from where you are and to see this thing that has happened. The angel announces, and it’s an invitation, God’s invitation, to see that the good news is for you today. A Saviour is born.

O come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant, O come ye, o come ye to Bethlehem; come and behold him, born the king of angels: O come let us adore him, O come let us adore him, O come let us adore him, Christ the Lord. Amen.

You never get the one you want: A Christmas Sermon

There’s a saying I like, but before I share it, if you have children with you this morning you might want to cover their ears for a moment. The saying is this about children: ‘You never get the one you want.’ [i] The point of this saying is to point out that we don’t know what we’re doing when we have children – we think we know what we’re doing, but we quickly learn that we don’t. I’m not saying people shouldn’t have children, but I’m questioning the notion that we are somehow fully in control of these decisions and what they mean. We might equally say churches never get the minister they want or that they always choose the wrong minister. Some of you might be thinking that this Christmas morning, as you sit there wondering where this is going. Let’s see if I can turn this into something for you go away and think about over your Christmas lunch.

We never get the children we want, because they come to us as strangers. Where they share our genes, and we shape their environment and their lives in particular ways, they also come to us unique, and they have that special gift to both surprise us and at times distress us. Most of us love our children, but who they are is only in a very small way in our control. And in this we have to learn to love them not for what we want them to be, but for who they are. Think about the times, on witnessing a new behaviour, or a new reaction, you might have heard the phrase, or you might have said the phrase: ‘where did that come from?’ or ‘where did she get that?’ Think about how children can be suddenly very hard of hearing when you want them to do something and also can be suddenly very good at hearing when you’re trying to say something you don’t want them to hear.

We never get the children we want, we want our children docile, obedient, perfect. We want children who will fit into our lives, as the verse from the carol Once in Royal David’s City goes: ‘Christian children all must be mild, obedient, good as He.’ The problem is right from the beginning they refuse to do what we want them to and I’m told this continues all the way into adulthood, of course I’m also told we get our own back when we’re old and refuse to do what they want us to do! There is always a tension between parents and children, of having to live around each others lives. Much of what I am saying is true also of marriage, and true also of being part of the church. We create expectations; we create moulds into which we want to fit one another and at this point we arrive at the Christmas story, because I want to suggest we also never get the God we want. We want a God who agrees with us, who will say yes to our plans. We want a God who keeps us safe from harm and suffering and upset. We want a God who will make everything right without any waiting and any struggle, and instead we get Jesus.

Through Advent we’ve been thinking about the four names the prophet Isaiah gives to the hoped for king: Wonderful counsellor, mighty God, prince of peace and everlasting Father. And each week we’ve been invited to see what these names mean in the light of Jesus, and what we’ve found is what we think they mean at first glance, is played our differently in the life of Jesus. We never get the God we want.

In our reading from John’s gospel, we hear that the world did not recognise him and those who were his own did not receive him. God in Jesus is not the God we want, but it is the God we get. And there is no other God, hiding, waiting to jump out, there is no other God of our own making, of our design.

The God in Jesus we don’t want, is the God we get. God comes to us in Jesus as a crying baby, unable to fend for himself, unable to do anything to make our lives better. We were thinking last night about whether God gets messy, and there is a real truth that God embraces our mess: birth is messy, children are messy, and becoming adults is just another kind of mess.

We want a God to take away the mess, but for the large part God comes to sit with us, play with us, dwell with us in our the mess of being human and out of that mess God brings salvation. In the story of Jesus’ birth from Matthew’s gospel, we are told that Jesus will be Emmanuel, he will be God with us. I said at the beginning of these reflections that we never get the children we want, and that means we have to learn to love the children we are given, and in this way, we can learn to want different things, to change our expectations, to revise our plans and dreams. It's the same for church, church is about learning to love the people we are given, the annoying ones, the quiet ones, the demanding ones, Jesus says learn to love them, because hey I had to learn to love you! In the same way,

and more so, we might not get the God we want, but we are called to love the God who is given, who comes to us in Jesus and in learning to love the God who gurgles in a manger, and later dies on a cross, we also learn that our wants are transformed, and our desires are re-directed, and that although we don’t have control of our lives, it does not matter for God is with us in the mess and he will lift us up and turn ashes into beauty, death into life, despair into hope, doubt into faith, hate into love, indifference into compassion, pride into humility, weakness into strength, silence into song, mourning into dancing, fighting into peace, suffering into glory, sinners into saints.

Thanks be to God that he is the God he is and not the God we want. And Happy Christmas!

 

[i] The saying originated from Stanley Hauerwas.

The Ox and the Donkey: A Christmas Sermon

We’ve just heard read the account of Jesus’ birth in Luke’s gospel. Familiar words. Its one of those bits of the Bible, that if I asked you to shut your Bibles and your eyes and tell me what happens, I think most of you could get pretty close to the words Luke uses. Don’t worry I’m not going to put my theory to the test. These are very familiar words. And if I asked you to describe the nativity scene, I’m pretty sure we know what would need to be in there. Mary, Joseph and Jesus of course. A stable with a manger. An ox and donkey. Some shepherds with maybe one or two sheep. Three magi with their camels parked outside. A star over the stable. This is the scene on the increasingly rare Christmas card, this is the scene of numerous paintings of the Nativity by great painters, this is the scene at the end of the BBC’s version of the Nativity from a few years ago. And of course its wrong.

Yes, we read of Mary, Joseph and Jesus lying in a manger. We don’t actually read of a stable, but this is surmised from the presence of the manger. We don’t read of any animals. We do read of some shepherds arriving. We don’t read of any stars. We don’t read of any magi or wise men or three kings and any camels – they turn up in Matthew’s gospel and the suggestion is Jesus is no new-born by then, but perhaps at the age of beginning to walk. Our version of the Nativity story is a creation, it’s a mash-up. I’m not saying this is wrong and we shouldn’t do it, but wanting to draw attention to how we have sought to sentimentalise the story, to make it almost fairy-tale like, when it was anything but. Over time and legend, we’ve taken the danger, the trouble, the scandal, the poverty out of the story. Familiar words have made us over-familiar with the story we celebrate.

Having said all that, I want to come back to the ox and donkey. Why on earth do they come to appear in the story? Well the answer emerges from early Christian readers of the nativity story who saw Luke’s emphasis on the manger – he mentions it three times: ‘lying in a manger’ and from an verse from the book of Isaiah. Isaiah chapter 1 verse 3 reads: ‘the ox knows its master, the donkey its owner’s manger, but Israel does not know, my people do not understand.’ Early Christians read the Old Testament a lot. A lot more than we probably do. They read it through the eyes of the gospels. This verse from Isaiah finds it fulfilment in the birth of Jesus. Luke’s repetition of ‘manger’ is an echo to this verse, and so of course an ox and donkey must be present at the nativity. Why does Luke want us to think of Isaiah 1.3?[i]

Because this word of judgement against Israel — Israel does not know or understand — is now being repealed in the birth of Jesus. Those who did not know, through the shepherds are now beginning to come to know — as they ox knows its master, so the shepherds come know the birth of Jesus as the coming of God. The mystery of God’s faithful love is being revealed, is being announced.

Or perhaps it’s the opposite, perhaps the echo is to remind us that God’s people, will continue not to know, will continue not to understand, that in Jesus, God is in the midst. They will remain ignorant of Jesus’ identity, and so point to all those who miss who is the manger, those who refuse to accept or believe the tender mercy of God. God does not force himself upon us, for he comes as vulnerable and defenceless baby.

Or perhaps the presence of the ox and the donkey is a sign of God’s care for the Christ child. One writer imagines, ‘the ox and the donkey kneeling down, putting their mouths to the manger, breathing through their noses on to the Child, because they knew that at that cold time he needed to be heated up in that manner.’ I love the image of that. It takes us back to our animal service in October, and the reminder that animals know how to show affection and care and Jesus receives their affection in this moment, they know who is before them, they recognise who is lying in their manger.

Or perhaps the presence of the ox and the donkey should be seen as a sign that the whole of creation shares in the joy of the birth of Jesus. That perhaps those who are included in those on whom God’s favour rests is on all creatures. God’s salvation is for all the whole cosmos, and so just as shepherds represent the poor and lowly, and the magi represent the nations, the ox and donkey represent the creatures of the earth. All come to worship and bless the birth day of Christ.

This short verse from Isaiah, and the presence of the ox and the donkey in our nativity scenes, present us with the question of whether we know our master, of whether we recognise the owner of the manger? Will we draw near and offer our love to the one who is God’s love made flesh? Will our familiarity with the nativity story, give way to a new reception of the Lord of shepherd and maiden, of carpenter and prince, of ox and donkey, of the one born king of angels and king of all creation?

The long wait is over, God has arrived, born of Mary. Now is the time for singing and dancing, now is the time for mooing and braying, now is the time for joy and feasting. Glory to God in the highest heaven and on earth peace to those on whom his favour rests. See what God has done, it is marvellous in our eyes!

 

[i] These reflections were helped by Richard Harries, A Gallery of Reflections: The Nativity of Christ (Lion, 1995), p.36.