Simeon's Apocalypse: A Glimpse of the Baby Jesus

Text: Luke 2:21-38

            This sermon was not supposed to happen. I mean, it’s Sunday and all so I get how this works. Once every seven days I’m supposed to and say things from a pulpit, but this time it was in doubt. I don’t know how much each of you heard, but the world was supposed to end on December 21 like the Mayans predicted; it was as sure a thing as a Vikings season ending with disappointment. And never mind that the end of the Mayan calendar had much more to do with their understanding of the renewal of creation than with an apocalypse; that’s not nearly as good of a story. The world was supposed to end on December 21. I read it in Newsweek.

            Honestly, I was wondering why the malls were so busy in the lead-up to Christmas. Apparently, nobody told those people that Christmas was not coming; instead, we were going to have fire and brimstone and the four horsemen of the apocalypse and all of that jazz. Anyway, you can imagine my shock when the 21^st came and passed and here we still are and here is this sermon being preached. I claim false advertising.

On Shepherds (and our ignorance of simplicity)

Text: Luke 2:1-20

            You don’t hear much about shepherds anymore. I mean, I don’t know anybody who went to shepherding school or wrote that grade-school essay on what they wanted to be when they grew up and chose to be a shepherd. Nobody’s parents—that I know of—are pushing their kids into the shepherding vocation, and anyway, shepherds aren’t exactly high in terms of earning potential. Even if you really wanted to be a shepherd it is hard work to find, and even if you did somehow become a shepherd it’s not exactly the kind of profession that stirs up Christmas-time conversation around the dinner table. 
            “What do you do?”
            “I’m a shepherd.”
            “Oh yeah? What does that entail?”
            “Watching sheep.”
            “I see… can you pass me the chicken?”

Mary's Song and the False Pursuit of Happiness

Text: Luke 1:39-56

            In the year 1689, John Locke wrote his “Two Treatises of Government” which included a line that said that the government’s obligation was to protect “life, liberty and estate.” Other sources since have tweaked the phrase, such as the Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments to the U.S. Constitution which declare that governments cannot deprive any person of “life, liberty, or property” and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, which reads, “Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of person.” However, by far the most well-known adaptation of Locke’s words is Thomas Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence, which says, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.”

Why do we want the end of the world?

So, I woke up this morning and the world was still spinning. Funny. I really thought the Mayans had this one, just like Harold Camping last May and every other would-be prophet of doom and destruction. It's the same refrain again and again: "Things are so messed up... we clearly must be nearing the end of the world!" they say. Funny, again, because reality suggests something else. If we're looking for the worst of all possible times, history is unlikely to side with the 21st century. Remember the Inquisition, the Black Death, the European wars of the middle ages, Civil Wars in America, France and other places, World War I, World War II and the Shoah. I mean, if we truly think things are worse now than under Hitler and Stalin then we need to gain some serious perspective.

Anyway, what is much more interesting than calculating how bad things have gotten and picking a date for God to end it all is why we would want the end of the world in the first place. Of course, most would-be prophets won't admit it, but that is really what's at work here: they want the end of the world. I suppose if you were to tease it out, these Christians (and people of other faiths as well, but let's be honest it's mostly Christians) are desperate for the apocalypse because it will usher in the reign of Christ. On the surface that makes sense. The world is a messy place. It would be much easier if we could just skip this business of living down here and fast-forward to the fully realized Kingdom of God. I get that.

The Small Things: Newtown, The Hobbit, and the Manger

Text: Isaiah 61:1-11

            “I’ve found it is the small things that keep the darkness at bay.” That’s Gandalf speaking to Galadriel in the Hobbit movie that just came out this weekend, and I haven’t been able to shake the words from my mind. In fact, the full quote is even better, so if you’ll indulge me for a moment, Gandalf says, “Saruman believes it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. I found it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love. Why [did I choose] Bilbo Baggins? Perhaps because I am afraid, and he gives me courage.”

             I saw The Hobbit on Friday about an hour after I first heard the news about the school shooting in Connecticut. And I don’t even really know what to say about it since it’s all so horrible and familiar. This shooting may have affected us more because of the innocence of the victims and the number of dead, but the narrative is something we’ve heard before. We live in a small world. We know about things that happen across the country and the world in the blink of an eye, and this is most certainly good and bad. There are seven billion people in the world, and with so many people in so small a place there’s plenty of shocking events to go around. When something happens the media eats it up. We are told in subtle ways how to feel, what should shock us, and who or what is the enemy. Quickly, every tragedy becomes an issue of debate about what could or can be done to avoid it: power against power. “Saruman believes it is only great power that can hold evil in check,” says Gandalf, “but that is not what I have found. It’s the small things that keep the darkness at bay.”

The Sad Odyssey of the Discovery Channel

I have long been a fan of the Discovery Channel. I have even written about it before on this blog (as in right here), but I think those days are sadly at an end. It's been a long, slow and tedious fall from grace for the channel that was once about the only thing I would watch on television, and I wonder how it's gotten this far. I guess, as a mid-twenties male, this is one of the first things I will someday look back upon as the good ol' days, wondering all the while why they would leave behind what was so good for what is now so contrived and superficial. But before we get there it behooves me to start at the beginning--when things were good and Survivorman marathons frequent.

It was 2006 when the Discovery Channel and I began our close relationship, and oh, the good times we had! Those were simpler days. There was Cash Cab, a lightning-fast, if slightly dumbed-down, game show that took place in a New York City taxi cab; Deadliest Catch, the fascinating real-life story of crab fishing in the Bering Sea; Dirty Jobs, hosted by the always entertaining Mike Rowe; Man vs Wild, a fun, though definitely contrived and not at all realistic portrayal of survival in the wild; Planet Earth, the series that redefined how "nature" video was shot; Survivorman, which was basically a more realistic and far more interesting version of Man vs Wild; and, of course, Mythbusters, the crowning jewel of the Discovery lineup.

The Spirit and the Messiness of Worship

Text: Joel 2:12-13, 28-29

            Last Wednesday the Nativity Scene at Grace blew over. It was so perfectly poetic I had to take a picture of it lying there flat on the ground. Jesus is not in the manger yet; we still have a few weeks of Advent. So I’m OK with subtle divine hints that maybe that nativity scene can wait. And besides, it was particularly appropriate that it was the wind that knocked it over, since the Hebrew word for “wind” (ruach) also means “spirit.” It was as if the Holy Spirit were saying, “No. Not yet. Slow down. Wait.”
             Lo and behold, now we have the prophet Joel this Sunday, again preaching on the Spirit. Joel is probably one of the least familiar books in the Bible, so I’ll forgive you if you aren’t Joel experts. Still, some of what we read today should be familiar. There’s that Lenten refrain: “Return to the Lord, your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.” Lent and Advent share some commonalities. They are both about reflection, they both involve turning or returning to God, and they are both times awaiting God’s in-breaking into the world. We understand that this is the season where we are anticipating Jesus, but God's in-breaking into our daily lives requires also the Holy Spirit. We don’t really talk about it much—because honestly we don’t talk about the Spirit much ever—but in this time of the year when we’re completely fine with angels and heavenly choruses it's astounding that we still manage to ignore the Holy Spirit.

Jovan Belcher, Bob Costas and the Oversimplification of Complex Issues

This is a tough subject. I should start with that--if nothing else to remind myself that this is shifting sand on which I blog. It's much easier to come across as heartless than it is to be thoughtful, especially when the reality you are broaching is shocking and surreal. I acknowledge that. I think anybody who wants to be faithful to real-life stories of pain and loss has to acknowledge that their opinions cannot encapsulate the issue, and that is--in fact--the very point of today's blog.

For those of you who do not know, Jovan Belcher was a linebacker for the Kansas City Chiefs football team who killed his girlfriend and himself last Saturday morning. Were this an anonymous individual committing this crime we would not have heard about it or cared; that's just the harsh reality; but in this case it has stuck in the public consciousness because of the celebrity. I don't think this is a bad thing. What is a bad thing is that instances of domestic abuse and murder don't always hit us like this. That is troubling. But it's also a little off subject.

Photo by Jamie Squire/Getty Images 

Just Hope- King Darius' long night

Text: Daniel 6:6-27

           Some of you might be disappointed with the book of Daniel on the first Sunday in Advent. No hints of a baby in a manger in Bethlehem, nothing about a Messiah, no Mary or Elizabeth or John the Baptist; nothing much in the Christmas spirit at all. I’m going to go out on a limb and guess none of you make little nativity scenes of Daniel in the lions’ den. This has nothing to do with Christmas, which makes it perfectly appropriate for the first Sunday of Advent. You all are getting plenty of Christmas out there; let’s keep Jesus out of the manger until he’s good and ready. However, I am doing the story of Daniel a bit of a disservice if I suggest that any story—so long as it’s not directly about Jesus—is appropriate for the first Sunday of Advent. Some stories are better than others, and Daniel is actually a very appropriate Advent story.