Sermon: Christmas Eve RCL A


In 1946, the first car phone service was launched. It was big, clunky, and expensive. In 1964, Ma Bell rolled out a newer generation. It wasn’t until 1973 that the first truly mobile phone call was made. Martin Cooper of Motorola called Joel Engel, his rival at Bell Labs, to say, “Joel, I’m calling you from a cell phone… a real handheld portable cell phone.” Yet, it wasn’t until October 13, 1983, that the first mobile phone network went online. The phone was the Motorola DynaTAC 8000X. It weighed 2.5 pounds, took ten hours to charge, and provided 30 minutes of talk time.

Today, 348 million people live in the United States, and it is reported that 331 million of us have a cellphone, which we use to watch countless millions of cat videos every day. I suppose none of us really knows all that those little devices can do, but one interesting feature comes to us from Uncle Sam—Wireless Emergency Alerts, or WEA. 

Once or twice, we’ve had it alert during a service. It gives the government the power to send a message to every cellphone in a selected geographic location. It’ll override the silent features and everything else with a loud, blaring horn. I’m sure you know it. With this feature, the US government can send a message to every cellphone in the country (unless it is turned off), and, on average, almost all 331 million cellphones will receive it within two minutes. Why am I thinking on this?

In Holy Scripture, the image of the shepherd represents faithful leadership. The Psalmist says, “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.” Jesus says, “I am the Good Shepherd, my sheep know the sound of my voice.” However, the image of the shepherd in Holy Scripture is dramatically different from how the shepherd was perceived in society.

They were viewed as thieves, uneducated outsiders with little to no synagogue attendance, and were considered equal in depravity to dice-throwers, pigeon-racers, and tax collectors. They were ritually unclean because of their work with animals, and their testimony should never be trusted. Scripture speaks highly of them, but for the most part, they were seen as some of the lowest of the low. So, why, of all people, would the angels first announce the birth of the Messiah to shepherds, and why were they chosen as the first visitors to this newborn King? 

It may not have been as efficient as the system we have today, but in Rome, there was one who could have quickly spread the message across the known world—Caesar Augustus.

Caesar Augustus is widely considered the greatest ruler of the Roman Empire. He came to power in 27 BC and ruled for forty years. Under his reign, there was the Pax Romana—the Peace of Rome, a period of almost two centuries of relative peace under Roman rule, and it was at its height under Caesar Augustus. 

During his reign, the Romans had 250,000 miles of roads, 62,000 of which were paved to support the rapid deployment of military troops and trade. Sure, you had slavery, high taxation, and suppression, but what a small price to pay for Caesar and his cronies to live in comfort.

Caesar considered himself the son of God and the savior of the people, but let’s say he, instead of those dirty shepherds, heard the angel’s message, went to the manger, saw, and believed. Jesus could have been swept out of that dump and given a royal palace, servants, and everything He would ever want or need. The whole crucifixion business could have been dispensed with. How?

Caesar, using his own version of the Wireless Emergency Alert system, could have used those 250,000 miles of roads and the messengers, who were constantly running to and fro, to spread the word of this new King while keeping Jesus safely cloistered away. Within two months of Jesus’s birth and Caesar’s visit to the manger, the message would have been broadcast to the entire empire. Not as fast as we could today, but a heck of a lot faster and more efficient than a couple of untrustworthy shepherds with no means of communicating to the rest of the world. 

The words of Judas Iscariot in the rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar,
“Why’d you choose such a backward time in such a strange land?
If you’d come today you could have reached a whole nation.
Israel in 4 BC had no mass communication.”

Not only could Caesar have communicated the message more quickly, but he could have commanded and put into law that Jesus was the true Son of God, that there would be no other gods but the Father, and that anyone stupid enough to disagree could be put to death. How great is that?

Here, we’ve been trudging along for 2,000 years to make Jesus known and loved, but if the angels had gone to Caesar Augustus, the world would have become Christian almost overnight and would have remained so until 476 AD, when the Roman Empire fell. That’s when whoever rose to power would have ushered in a new god, required everyone to worship it, and put to death those who disagreed. And the world would have fallen into step with little to no resistance. Why?

God chose shepherds when he came into the world because Jesus would not be managed by politicians and used to further agendas. That type of system is always doomed to failure. Instead, Jesus came so that hearts would be changed. This does not happen with commands and dictates. It doesn’t happen with power and threats. It happens when the humble and meek, the lowly and despised—the shepherds—hear the angels’ message and submit themselves, body and soul, to the One who calls them into His presence and reveals Himself to them.

In a sermon preached in the early fifth century, St. Augustine said, 

“Shepherds were watching their flocks by night.
Shepherds—simple men, humble men, poor men—were watching, and the angel of the Lord stood by them.
Not to kings, not to scribes, not to the wise of this world was the birth of Christ announced, but to shepherds.

Why shepherds?
Because they were humble; because they were vigilant; because they were keeping watch.
Pride does not keep watch; humility does.”

Jesus had no desire to conquer worldly empires. He came to conquer sin and death, so that those who believe in Him and call on His Name might receive forgiveness of sins and eternal life. This could never be accomplished by the dictates of Caesar. St. Leo the Great said, “Truth sought not the halls of kings, but the hearts of the humble.” Starting with shepherds has taken longer, but through those very humble beginnings, the world has never been the same.

This evening, we are the shepherds gathered in this place. We came not by compulsion or command, but because we too have had our hearts changed, made new. Somewhere within our souls, the angels spoke, saying to us as they did to the shepherds, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.” We have heard those words, and like the shepherds, we visit the manger, kneel before our infant King, and believe. In his sermon, St. Augustine went on to say, 

Let us imitate the shepherds.
Let us keep watch over what has been entrusted to us.
Let us guard Christ in our hearts.
Let us proclaim Him by our lives.

Our God and King has drawn near, come, let us adore Him.

Let us pray (also from St. Augustine): Let the just rejoice, for their justifier is born. Let the sick and infirm rejoice, for their Savior is born. Let the captives rejoice, for their Redeemer is born. Let slaves rejoice, for their Master is born. Let free men rejoice, for their Liberator is born. Let all Christians rejoice, for Jesus Christ is born. Amen.

Sermon: Christmas Eve RCL C (III) – “The Manger is You”


West of the Denver suburbs is the community of Indian Hills, home of the Indian Hills Community Center. The Center had a sign out front, but in 2012, they asked a volunteer, Vincent, if he could build them a larger one. 

The sign had the typical information you would expect from a sign until April Fools Day, which is when Vincent decided to have a bit of fun. I suppose the first message wouldn’t mean anything to those outside Indian Hills, but that community found it hysterical—“Indian Hills annexed by Morrison slow down.”

After that first message, the sign took on a life of its own, being changed regularly, and the punny messages became a town favorite. “Of course, I’m an organ donor. Who wouldn’t want a piece of this?!” “I’ll take the high road; you take the psycho path.” “Past, present, and future walked into a bar. It was tense.” “It’s easy to get back on your feet. Just miss two car payments. “My relationship with whiskey is on the rocks.” And my Stephen King favorite, “If clowns attack, go for the juggler.” The sign now has a Facebook page and many followers.

Signs are everywhere. Some are more complicated than others, but many have been used so much that we no longer need words to tell us what they mean. They have become simple symbols. You see a red octagon, and you know it means stop (unless, of course, you live in Enid, then it is a suggestion to stop). You see a cigarette with a red circle around it and a red slash, the prohibition symbol; you know it means no smoking. And, if you were to replace the cigarette with a penguin, you would know that you can’t take your pet penguin along.

Just as there are many signs around us, there are just as many symbols. The more complicated symbols are those that point to something beyond themselves. Take, for example, the American flag.

In some respects, the American flag is a simple symbol—it represents the United States. Easy enough, but when you ask people what that flag means, it takes on greater meaning—patriotism, honor, freedom, and so on. However, if you were to ask someone outside of the United States what the American flag represents, you would likely get a very different answer—opportunity, wealth, hope—but not all those who see it would have such positive responses. Others would see the American Flag as a symbol of oppression, imperialism, greed, the Great Satan, and more.

The American flag is, therefore, a simple symbol, but it is also very complex and nuanced. It points to something beyond itself—an idea.

Within our life with God and in Holy Scriptures, there is another kind of symbol—the prophetic or religious symbol. We can find many examples in both the Old and New Testaments. 

In the Book of Jeremiah, there was a time when the Lord was angry with the people for their disobedience. To demonstrate how angry He was, God told Jeremiah to get a clay pot and go before the leaders and inhabitants of Jerusalem. Jeremiah is then to say, “Hear the word of the Lord… I am bringing such disaster upon this place.” Then Jeremiah is to take the clay pot and throw it to the ground. The Lord, speaking through Jeremiah, says, “Thus says the Lord of hosts: So will I break this people and this city, as one breaks a potter’s vessel, so that it can never be mended.”

The clay pot was used as a religious symbol. It is a symbol that points beyond itself, but it is a religious symbol because a) it points to an action of God that b) will affect the people and change them in some way.

From there, the religious symbol can become even more—a sacrament. Water is one such symbol.

Sometimes, water is just water, but throughout Scripture, water can be so much more. In the beginning, the Spirit of God hovered above the waters. With Noah, the earth was again covered by water, destroying almost all God had created. The people, being led by Moses, were saved through the waters of the Red Sea when the waters were parted, and all passed through safely, but then those same waters crashed down on the Egyptian army, killing both horse and rider. The waters are home to the great sea monster, the leviathan.

All together, this tells us that the waters are not necessarily a safe place. In fact, the water became a religious symbol of chaos and death. Then, along came Jesus, who stood before John the Baptist and was baptized by him. Jesus was pressed into the water, the chaos and death, and then pulled back up. Jesus did not need to be baptized, but He gave the water and these actions to us as a religious symbol, a sacrament. Together, they signify to us that at our baptism, we go into the waters, we go into chaos and death, but we come back up, washed, cleaned, restored, and once again made holy in the eyes of God. As St. Paul tells us, “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.”

Water, a symbol that became a religious symbol, which, through Jesus, became a Sacrament. It is partly how we gained our definition of a Sacrament in the Catechism—“The sacraments are outward and visible signs of inward and spiritual grace, given by Christ as sure and certain means by which we receive that grace.”

Our Gospel reading from John begins with the words, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God.” In that statement, the Word is more than a person; yet, it is also speaking, in part, of the person of Jesus, so we can say, “In the beginning was Jesus, and Jesus was with God, and Jesus was God. Jesus was in the beginning with God.”

Jesus confirms this later in John’s Gospel. One of the Disciples, Philip, says to Jesus, “Lord, show us the Father, and it is enough for us.” Jesus answers him, “Have I been with you so long, and you still do not know me, Philip? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.”

In the beginning, Jesus was with God, and Jesus was God. Jesus says to Philip, ‘If you see Me, you see God the Father.” Jesus is not just a religious symbol of the Father. Jesus is the Sacrament—the outward and visible sign—of God the Father. Jesus’ nature shows us the very nature of God. For example, one aspect of God’s nature is love. Jesus said, “Just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.” Jesus’ love for us is an outward and visible sign of God the Father’s love for us, for “God is love.” 

Jesus is the Sacrament of God. 

If it ended there, we could all go home, but there is one more step. Remember, a religious symbol is pointing to an action of God that will affect the people and change them in some way. Therefore, John told us, “To all who received [Jesus], who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.”

If you receive the Sacrament of God, Jesus, He gives you the power to become like Him—a child of God. In other words, if you receive Jesus, you become a Sacrament of Jesus—an outward and visible sign of God’s inward and spiritual grace.

On a night like tonight, we are surrounded by symbols. The star which beckons us. The angels that call us. The shepherds who seek Him. Mary, who said “Yes” to Him, and Joseph, who is obedient and faithful. However, perhaps the symbol that most represents this night is the manger, where Jesus is to be born. Like all other religious symbols, the manger is a symbol pointing to something more, and in this case, and on this night, it is pointing to you. 

Within each of us is a manger. It can remain commonplace, storing all parts of an ordinary life. Or we can clear it out and make a place for the Christ Child to be born. A place where the Sacrament of God—Jesus—can be born in us and affect such change in our lives. The transformation of the commonplace into a holy and extraordinary place. A place where not only is Christ Jesus born but also where we are reborn as children of God—ourselves becoming sacraments—Sacraments of Jesus.

On this night, allow Christ Jesus to be born within the manger of your entire being and become a Sacrament—an outward and visible sign to all those around you of God’s great love for His Children.

Let us pray: Almighty God, you have given your only-begotten Son to take our nature upon him, and to be born of a pure virgin: Grant that we, who have been born again and made your children by adoption and grace, may daily be renewed by your Holy Spirit; through our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom with you and the same Spirit be honor and glory, now and for ever. Amen.

Sermon: Christmas Eve (II) RCL B – “Glory of the Lord”

Thomas ColeThe Angel Appearing to the Shepherds

A man appeared before St. Peter at the pearly gates. St. Peter asked, “Have you ever done anything of particular merit? Anything that might have revealed the goodness of God in the world?”

“Well,” the man said, “once I came upon a gang of bikers who were threatening a young woman. I approached the largest and most heavily muscled biker and smacked him on the head, kicked over his bike, ripped out his nose ring, and threw it on the ground. ‘Now leave her alone!’ I then yelled.”

St. Peter was impressed: “When did this happen?”

“Just a couple of minutes ago.”

Tonight, we heard of the angels appearing to the shepherds proclaiming the birth of Jesus. It began, “Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.” As I studied that, I began thinking about the “glory of the Lord.” Throughout Scripture, we are told of several encounters with God’s glory, and what’s interesting is that as history progresses, we are allowed more and more access to this glory.

Moses went up on the mountain to receive the Ten Commandments. Afterward, “Moses said, ‘Please show me your glory.’… But, [the Lord] said, “You cannot see my face [my glory] for man shall not see me and live.” 

Later, the Prophet Ezekiel will have a grand vision of the Lord. Ezekiel spoke of the living creatures, the angels that were serving the Lord, and then “above the expanse over their heads there was the likeness of a throne, in appearance like sapphire; and seated above the likeness of a throne was a likeness with a human appearance.” There was something like gleaming metal and fire. There was a brightness and a rainbow around Him. A magnificent sight. Ezekiel concluded, “Such was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord.” God’s glory is out there yet unapproachable, but later, with Jesus, the glory of the Lord comes closer.

St. John tells us, “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.” At the Transfiguration of Jesus, we are told that Peter, James, and John witnessed the glory of the Lord, and finally, in the New Jerusalem at the end of days, we will forever live in God’s glory. From John’s Revelation, “I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb.  And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and its lamp is the Lamb.”

The glory of the Lord drew closer, and what is so amazing is that through Jesus, we now share in this glory. It is a part of us. On the night before He was crucified, Jesus prayed, “The glory that you have given me I have given to them, that they may be one even as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that you sent me and loved them even as you loved me.” The glory of God seen by the shepherds on the night Jesus was born and revealed throughout scripture is in you, but can we see it? Moses, Ezekiel, the shepherds, the Apostles, and, in the end, everyone will actually see the glory of the Lord, but what about us? What about today? If it is in us, is it something that is hidden within, or does it visibly shine? Answer: perhaps you can’t see it in yourself, but you can witness it in others.

Author Donna Ashworth published a collection of poems, Wild Hope, which includes the poem You. “If every single person who has liked you in your lifetime, were to light up on a map, it would create the most glitteringly beautiful network you could imagine. Throw in the strangers you’ve been kind to, the people you’ve made laugh, or inspired along the way, and that star-bright web of you, would be an impressive sight to behold. You’re so much more than you think you are. You have done so much more than you realise. You’re trailing a bright pathway that you don’t even know about. What a thing. What a thing indeed.” (Source: Wild Hope)

St. Irenaeus (d.202 a.d.) is one of the Church Fathers and a great early theologian. He writes, “The glory of God is a person fully alive, and the life of a person is the vision of God.” What did Irenaeus mean? The answer relies on understanding that the person who is the “vision of God” is not just any person. It is Jesus who revealed the Father. So, the glory of God is a person fully alive, and the person is fully alive when Jesus is revealed in them. A person is fully alive when the vision of God, Jesus—God’s Glory—is witnessed in their life as they trail a bright pathway of God’s love and glory behind them.

You don’t have to go live in the desert eating only bread and salt and praying the Psalms all day, every day, to reveal the glory of God and enter His Kingdom. You don’t have to become a missionary in some distant land to show Jesus to the world. You don’t even have to take on a gang of bikers to demonstrate the goodness of God. So, what must you do? Jesus said, “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.” What must you do to reveal the vision of God? Let the glory of Jesus that is in you shine before others just like it shown around the shepherds on that hillside outside of Bethlehem. Let others see the glory of the Lord in you, and they will say,  “Let us go and see what the Lord has made known to us,” and they too will glorify and praise God.

You have God’s glory within you. Turn it into a bright pathway so that others may join us in coming before the child in the manger to see and receive this gift from Our Father.

Let us pray: Lord our God, with the birth of your Son, your glory breaks on the world. Through the night hours of the darkened earth, we, your people, watch for the coming of your promised Son. As we wait, give us a foretaste of the joy that you will grant us when the fullness of his glory has filled the earth, who lives and reigns with you for ever and ever. Amen.

Sermon: RCL A – Christmas Eve

The Virgin with Angels, also known as The Song of the Angels by William-Adolphe Bouguereau

An elderly man in Phoenix calls his son in New York and says, “I hate to ruin your day, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are divorcing; forty-five years of misery is enough.”

“Pop, what are you talking about?” the son screams.

“We can’t stand the sight of each other any longer,” the old man says. “We’re sick of each other, and I’m sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Chicago and tell her,” and he hangs up.

Frantic, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone.

“They’re not getting divorced if I have anything to do about it,” she shouts, “I’ll take care of this.”

She calls Phoenix immediately and screams at the old man, “You are NOT getting divorced. Don’t do a single thing until I get there. I’m calling my brother back, and we’ll both be there tomorrow. Until then, don’t do a thing, DO YOU HEAR ME?” and hangs up.

The elderly man hangs up his phone, turns to his wife, and says, “Okay, they’re coming for Thanksgiving… now what do we tell them for Christmas?”

When it comes to being together, we can go to a great extent—anything from traveling long distances to manipulating the circumstances—whatever it takes. St. Paul speaks to us about being the Body of Christ, but being together is even more than that.

Maybe you remember from school Maslow’s Hierarchy. It is the pyramid that breaks down the various needs in our lives. At the top are the physiological needs: air, food, sleep, and the like. Next are the safety needs: health, security, etc. And immediately following this is our need for belonging and being loved—the need for others. 

There are many, myself included, who can spend extended periods of time by themselves, but eventually, even the greatest of loners need companionship. We see this even in God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Richard of St. Victor has a beautiful explanation of why God is a Trinity of Persons—I won’t bore you with the details tonight—but it is based on love and this need, even for God, to have relationship.

The relationship between the Holy Trinity is perfect, but we know that our relationships, even the very best, are far from perfect. They tend to be messy. If that is the case, God is perfect, and we are messy, then why would he bother becoming one of us?

We read tonight that as the shepherds were tending their flocks, an angel of the Lord appeared to them and said, “Do not be afraid; for see– I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” The angel announced the birth of God into the world. 

Jesus’ birth will ultimately bring about our salvation—eternal life with God in that Heavenly Kingdom, but what about in the meantime? From the day we are born to the day we die? Why would God, who is in a perfect relationship, choose to enter into our lives and become a part of our far from perfect, messy relationships? It’s not like God needed us. So, why?

OSur relationship with God was wrecked in the Garden of Eden when Adam and Eve took a bite of that apple, but it was fully restored with the birth of Jesus. It was restored so that we can always be with Him, whether we are alone or with others. God humbled himself to be born—not because he needed us, but because we need Him… and He knows it.

Henri Nouwen writes, “God came to us because he wanted to join us on the road, to listen to our story, and to help us realize that we are not walking in circles but moving towards the house of peace and joy.  This is the great mystery of Christmas that continues to give us comfort and consolation: we are not alone on our journey.  The God of love who gave us life sent his only Son to be with us at all times and in all places, so that we never have to feel lost in our struggles but always can trust that he walks with us…. Christmas is the renewed invitation not to be afraid and to let him—whose love is greater than our own hearts and minds can comprehend—be our companion.” (You Are the Beloved, p.391)

Tonight, we light the Christ candle.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” 

Jesus is this light… our light… shining in the darkness. He came, as Nouwen told us, “because he wanted to join us on the road” to “be our companion.” Jesus said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” Jesus came to join us on the road of our lives. To be—not “a” light, but the light that guides us. He also came to give us this light of himself so that we could become “children of light.” (1 Thessalonians 5:5)

Tonight, I invite you to step out of the darkness and walk with Jesus on the road. I’ve no idea where God will lead you in this life, but I do know the final destination, which is what the journey is ultimately all about, for he will be with us now so that we can be with him then, having eternal life in Our Father’s Heavenly Kingdom.

“Do not be afraid; for see—this is good news of great joy for all people: for us was born in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord… the Light of all who call on his name.”

Let us pray: Gracious and loving Father, you make this holy night radiant with the splendor of Jesus Christ our light. We welcome him as Lord, the true light of the world. Bring us to eternal joy in the kingdom of heaven, where he lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.