New Beginnings - Remember

Luke 2:41-52  Now every year his parents went to Jerusalem for the festival of the Passover. And when he was twelve years old, they went up as usual for the festival. When the festival was ended and they started to return, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it. Assuming that he was in the group of travelers, they went a day’s journey. Then they started to look for him among their relatives and friends. When they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem to search for him. After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. And all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers. When his parents saw him they were astonished; and his mother said to him, “Child, why have you treated us like this? Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety.” He said to them, “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” But they did not understand what he said to them. Then he went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them. His mother treasured all these things in her heart. And Jesus increased in wisdom and in years, and in divine and human favor.

When I read this story I try to imagine it all from the parents’ point of view.  It’s not hard, actually.  I have done my fair share of losing the children.  That feeling of panic the moment you realize your child is gone.  You reach out for help – I’ve had the shopping mall on lock down more than once.  You go on high alert, focused and with one mission: to find this child.

But I don’t know how it would be to feel that way for three days.

Three days they searched in Jerusalem, a city packed with Jews from all over the diaspora, on pilgrimage for the festival of the Passover.  Three days he was on his own in a city that was not his home, an unfamiliar place.  Three days Mary and Joseph did not know if their son was alive, didn’t know if he was safe.

And then, that moment when you find your child, you breathe a sigh of relief, and say, “Thank God you’re safe.  Now I think I’m going to kill you.”

Well, for Mary, this was one of those days in her child’s life that she would simply hold; one of those days she would need to suspend judgment; one of those days she would treasure in her heart.  It had been like that for Mary from the beginning.

At his birth when the shepherds told all the things that the angels had said, Mary treasured their words in her heart.  I can imagine the same, when they presented Jesus at the temple on the 8^th day and Simeon and Anna, who were near the end of their lives, greeted the newborn messiah with words of prophecy and worship.  It was a recognition that as one age was ending, a new age was beginning.  And Mary treasured all these things in her heart.

This week we mark the end of this year, and cross the threshold of a new one.  It is a time of new beginnings, and at such times there are things we take with us and things we leave behind; some things we lay to rest and others we will hold and treasure in our hearts.  It is our task to sort through the pieces of our life and decide where they all go. 

Today we begin a three-week series called New Beginnings, and we look first at the task of remembering. 

There are different reasons for remembering things.  Some things are remembered because they were wonderful; other things are remembered because they were awful.  Everything remembered is remembered because it is somehow shaping us into the people we are and will become. 

Oftentimes the strongest memories are the bad ones – the memories we cling to as a caution, lest it should happen again.  The great depression; the holocaust; Pearl Harbor, or 9/11 – these are collective memories that impel us to guard against a potential danger.

It’s important to remember these things.  “Those who cannot remember their past are condemned to repeat it,” said the writer George Santayana.  There are certain things we would wish to never, ever repeat.  The memories might be painful, but they bear recalling for the sake of ensuring that we never walk that path again.

The Lord commanded Israel to remember their years of slavery in Egypt.  This was not a good memory for them, but remember they must.  In the act of remembering, the benefits are twofold – for their relationship with God and also with others:  First, the remembrance allows them to celebrate how the Lord their God led them out of slavery and into the Promised Land.  And secondly, they are reminded of what it is to be a stranger, ill treated, in a strange land; it is a caveat to never, ever subject anyone else to that kind of treatment.

One of my children had a bad year in middle school when her friends suddenly started bullying her for no apparent reason.  She was so miserable she wanted to quit school.  Fortunately it lasted only a year – although it probably felt like an eternity, it was only a year. But she never forgot that year, and it has reminded her to be compassionate toward the square pegs, the misfits, the ones who need a little love.  Her father helped her learn this when he said to her, “Remember how this feels. When you see someone else being left out or picked on, remember how it feels.”

Our memories of pain, while uncomfortable, can guide us toward becoming better people.  But we must allow ourselves to experience the memory honestly.  So often our instincts to protect ourselves from pain will kick in and interfere with our memories. And the memory becomes suppressed or distorted, such that we protect ourselves from the pain but as a result we learn nothing useful.  Honest remembrance is a healthy thing.

Yet, at the same time, we mustn’t let ourselves become overwhelmed by the painful memories, so much that we lose touch with hope.  I had some experience with this recently.

During this past summer, when one of my children was hospitalized with a traumatic brain injury I was as frightened as I have ever been.  I can’t really describe to you what those days were like, except to say that I felt like I was in hell.  As her condition began to improve there was some relief, but I began to notice a strange effect of the fear: I couldn’t recall any good memories.  Fear suppressed memories of good things and took away my hope.

Something I read this past fall reminded me of this.  It was a story told by Henry Nouwen about a man named Bill who lived in the community of developmentally disabled adults where Nouwen worked as a chaplain.  Bill had a very tragic childhood and when he first came to the community he was frightened, and untrusting.  And he had no memories.  The pain and the fear of his early life had blotted out all his memories. 

But over the years, he learned to trust and to love again, and gradually – miraculously – he found his memories.  In the security of a loving and caring community this vulnerable man could remember that there had been some love in those early years too.

This summer, I had to work at finding the good memories.  And as I relocated those memories, I found hope.

As a congregation, we look back on our history and recall good things and bad things.  In conversations I have noticed that some of us carry powerful memories of bad times; memories that seem to color all our impressions of this church – they cause us to be more fearful, perhaps, that we need to be.  As we consider the work of remembering, I ask you to remember three things.

Remember the strengths as well as the weaknesses.  This church has weathered some storms.  We can look back at them with clear eyes and remember that we have always had the strength to go forward – in the leanest times as well as the fat times.

Remember the weaknesses, with clear eyes.  Talking about them together can be a helpful thing.  What were the qualities that have dragged us down in the past?  What did we fail to do that we should have done?  What actions did we take that we are sorry for? 

Remember the losses.  This year, as every year, we have lost some beloved members.  Let us remember them with gratitude for all they gave us.  Each one of them left us a lasting legacy – let us remember these gifts.  We owe them a debt of gratitude for their contributions to Faith. Imagine making them proud for the way we are moving forward in their memory.  What does it mean for us to pick up the mantle they left and carry on?

Remember that the things Mary treasured in her heart were both extraordinary and frightening.  She didn’t know what the future would hold for her child, but she knew that all these experiences, these memories, would be important.

As we go into the New Year, let us choose the memories we want to take with us – the memories that will strengthen us, making us wiser and more loving. Let us remember with courage and with love, as we move forward.  Some of these things we may simply hold in our hearts, trusting in God to use them, and us, in the New Year. 

It’s A Wonderful Life – Treasure It!

Christmas Eve 

John 1:1-14    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 came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, 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. And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.

Christmas of 1980 was a special Christmas in my family.  We knew that it would be my grandmother’s last.  And everyone wanted to give her something special.  We all wanted to make her wishes come true. 

It was an extravagant Christmas that year.  She got all the things she had dreamed of. 

There was a plush velour rose-colored blanket.  It would have been perfect if it could have been a rose-colored velour electric blanket, but I think the heating elements would have melted that old velour material, so it wasn’t a choice. 

There was an exquisitely beautiful doll.  Yes, this one was a bit childish.  But you need to understand that she didn’t come from the kind of family who could afford to buy their children beautiful dolls or much of anything else, so this dream was a very old one.  And the best gift of all that year was a rain lamp.

Do you know what a rain lamp is?  They were kind of popular in the 70’s.  Somebody said they were the equivalent of the lava lamp for older folks.  A rain lamp is a tall, cylindrical shaped lamp with a Greek goddess in the middle, surrounded by these wires running from top to bottom, all around the goddess.  You turn on the light and it starts a pump inside that sends oil dripping down the wires.  It is supposed to create the effect of rain.  Some people thought they were elegant.  Others thought they were tacky.  It’s a matter of taste.  To my grandmother it was beautiful. 

We loved her so much; we tried to give her everything she wanted.  Have you ever felt like that?

We all have felt that way – when we wanted nothing more than to fulfill the hopes and dreams of those we love. 

This season, we’ve followed the story of George Bailey of Bedford Falls, and all his dreams and desires, his glories and his disappointments.  All his life, George was looking for his happiness somewhere else.  Wanting so much to leave Bedford Falls and have a real adventure, but every time his plans were foiled.  George couldn’t understand why it always had to be such a struggle, why he always had to be waiting for his life to begin.  But while we watched, we have seen something he couldn’t – that all the love, all the goodness, all the living was going on right there all the time. 

One dark night in December when George thought he had lost everything, he lost his hope as well.  George thought there was nothing for him this Christmas, and that he had nothing to give anyone else – absolutely nothing.

But George didn’t count on the love that had been accumulating for him over all those years, like interest in a bank account.  He didn’t know that the years of struggle had born fruit all around him.  He didn’t know that there was a whole town full of people who loved him and wanted to give him everything he needed.  

It was the most blessed Christmas George had ever known.  In that darkest night the light shone, and the darkness did not overcome it.

The story of George Bailey is but a reflection of the story that draws us together every year on this night.  It is a story of a people who dreamed of salvation.  The treasure they sought was a land of promise, a land of milk and honey where they might live in peace. 

It is a story of a people who dreamed of a savior – one who would break the chains of slavery; relieve them from oppression and war and hunger. 

It is the story of a man and a woman who on this night held simple dreams – a dream of finding shelter and the safe delivery of their child.  They sought to be faithful to God’s design for their lives, to honor the treasure they had been given, if not to understand it. 

In the darkness of that night so long ago, these two people were being watched over and cared for and loved, by a God who wants to fulfill the dream –

The dream of peace; the dream of a world where all people are fed and safe; the dream of a world where love reigns supreme.

You and I share this dream.  We often get distracted by lesser dreams – anything from our own personal drone to a rain lamp.  But deep in our hearts we treasure a greater dream – a dream of a wonderful life ruled by love.  Let us not lose sight of this dream, no matter how dark the night. 

No matter how dark the night, the light shines.  And the darkness will not overcome it.

It’s A Wonderful Life – Trust It!

Fourth Sunday in Advent

Isaiah 7:10-16            Again the Lord spoke to Ahaz, saying, Ask a sign of the Lord your God; let it be deep as Sheol or high as heaven. But Ahaz said, I will not ask, and I will not put the Lord to the test. Then Isaiah said: “Hear then, O house of David! Is it too little for you to weary mortals, that you weary my God also? Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel. He shall eat curds and honey by the time he knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good. For before the child knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good, the land before whose two kings you are in dread will be deserted.

Matthew 1:18-25       Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly. But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet: “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,” which means, “God is with us.” When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife, but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus.

The Old Testament reading and the New Testament reading are connected by one sentence today: the virgin (or young woman) shall bear a son and he shall be called Immanuel.  But that is really the only thing that connects them.

The political, historical, and religious context of this little passage from Isaiah is really complex.  The Israelites were living in a divided kingdom – the kingdom of Israel in the north and the kingdom of Judah in the south.  They warred with each other and everyone else.

The prophet Isaiah comes to King Ahaz of Judah, trying to give him guidance in a very tense political climate.  I tried to explain the context to the sermon roundtable this week and only ended up confusing things even more.  They all listened politely, until one person said, “So what is the point?  What is this sign Isaiah is referring to?”  It was a good thing she asked that question.  I was in one of my oh-isn’t all-this-stuff-fascinating moods, where the more complex it gets the more interested I get.  Where I tend to get bogged down in the details, and I sometimes miss the point, the beautifully simple point.  But I’ll get back to that later.

Today we are going to backtrack a bit in the story of George Bailey.  We will go back to George and Mary’s wedding day, and see how on this particular day they were confronted with a big challenge – which was also a chance to practice trust.

I think one of the most impressive things in this scene is Mary’s trust in George.  How disappointed she must have been to have the building and loan once again intrude on their hopes and dreams.  Their entire honeymoon fund gone!  She actually gave it away.

And George’s trust in his neighbors!  Again and again, as he handed them the money they asked for, he reiterated, “This is a loan; I know you’re good for it.” 

George’s trust, Mary’s trust – trust in the power of good, or we might say, God.  This is the hinge on which it all turns at this point.  This is a true crisis; make no mistake – a run on the banks, and the risk of the building and loan going under.  Without trust, all is lost.

It would have been very nice for George and Mary to have a honeymoon trip; that is, before havoc broke loose on the economic scene.  Then, at that point, it would have been nice to have a little cash, maybe to stuff under the mattress – just in case.

It would have been a good idea for George to get signed receipts from all the scared folks who took his cash that day, just in case they “forgot” about it later. 

But holding on to her money, Mary knew, would only have guaranteed that the building and loan failed that day.  She would still have her stack of bills but so many people would be hurt.

And demanding receipts from his customers on this particular day would have conveyed a message much different than the one George wanted to give them.  Every word and action that day was intended to send the message that goodness would prevail and all would be well.  Trust in the goodness of your friends and neighbors, the goodness of God at work amongst us, and all will be well.  As the angels might have said, do not be afraid.

In the Isaiah passage, King Ahaz is contemplating his precarious situation, surrounded by enemies.  He is afraid.  And he is considering allying himself with the king of Assyria – sort of like the Bedford Falls folks are considering allying themselves with Potter.  Assyria was a sort of superpower of the region – not a benevolent one.  Again, much like Mr. Potter.

The prophet Isaiah is sent to him to convince him that he should not fear the enemies at his borders; that the greater danger will come from the nation he is hoping to make an alliance with.  Assyria, the prophet wants King Ahaz to know, is actually a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

But an immediate danger is more frightening than a hypothetical one, and King Ahaz is not convinced.  Some kind of sign is going to be necessary.  And this is where we were at the roundtable this week when someone asked the question, cutting off my long, boring lecture on ancient middle eastern politics –

What is the point?  What is the sign?

I admit, for a moment I was speechless.  And someone else at the table answered:  the sign is the child’s name. Immanuel. God with us.

All this talk in Isaiah’s prophecy about a woman and a son, curds and honey, the evil and the good – what is the sign?  The sign, my friends, is in the name of the child.

How important names can be.  In traditional cultures where names hold power, and in a culture of prophecy where names carry meaning for a whole people, how important it is to hear this:  He shall be called Immanuel – God with us.

For us, it comes down to trusting in this word.

Ahaz, as it turned out, was unable to trust in the word of the Lord.  He went ahead and made an alignment with Assyria.  After Assyria had handily crushed their mutual enemies, it set its malign focus on Judah.  Judah suffered under the powerful thumb of Assyria for many years, until a bigger, badder power took over and crushed them all – every one of them.  Would things have turned out differently if Ahaz had trusted in the word of the Lord?  That is the viewpoint of the scriptures.

Thankfully, for all of us, Joseph trusted.  He heard the promises of the Lord – that the child in Mary’s womb would be Jesus, the one who saves.  He recalled the promise put forth through Isaiah – he shall be called Immanuel, God will be with us. 

So Joseph swallowed his pride.  He took Mary as his wife, he cared for her and protected her, and when she gave birth, he named the child Jesus – the one who saves.

You see how that works?  Good things come when we trust in goodness, because goodness is from God.

God is good.  All the time.