Sermons
JOY, JOY, JOY
December 15, 2019 | Rev. Steve Willis
I’m always intrigued by stories of churches using gimmicks to get people’s attention. While it might be nice if the culture paid a little bit more attention to the church, I usually get uneasy with most of these attention grabbing stunts.
The gimmick, however, that I thought was interesting and might have some relationship to this morning’s Scripture passages happened at a megachurch in Nebraska. The minister was preaching an Advent sermon on joy and feeling joy in life. So for a dramatic illustration of joy, the church distributed helium balloons to all the people coming into the sanctuary for Sunday worship. Almost a thousand bright red balloons were handed to people that morning. And the instructions were for people to let go of their balloons when they felt joy sometime during the service. It was pretty nifty to see the balloons rising to the top of the high arched ceiling, as they were let go at different times during the service, sometimes during a song, or at the playing of a video clip on a big screen. But the illustration didn’t quite work out like the minister had intended. What would have been nice would have been seeing a thousand red balloons gathered at the top of the ceiling. But more than a third of the congregation hung on to their balloons. When the time for the benediction and the end of the service came this large group of the people were still holding on. It did make a dramatic point. Joy is not always easy to come by, even for Christian folks.
Unfortunately, the pastor decided to scold the people who were still holding on to their balloons. He preached, “You’ve got to let go of your balloons. Be joyful! Let your hearts be joyful! Let go of your balloons.” Of course this didn’t help. The natural human reaction to being lectured into joy by another human being is to turn around and go the other way. People started clenching tightly to their balloons. You can’t force someone into letting go of a balloon when they don’t feel like it. Better to ask what is it that helps us to genuinely let go of our balloons. What makes for joy?
The third Sunday of Advent is always the Sunday of JOY. We light the pink candle, the joy candle on the Advent wreath. The Epistle reading for this morning gives us the well-known words of the Apostle Paul, “Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say rejoice.” We may remember the children’s song using these very same words. But this joy of Paul’s is a surprising joy. He expresses this joy over and over again to the Christians in Philippi, even as he is writing them from his prison cell. He shares his gift of joy with these fellow Christians. But it is surely more than a command. Because we know that sometimes Paul was on the other pendulum swing of human emotion as he said, “groaning with all creation and its travail.” There is certainly always reason for joy. Yet joy is not reason. Joy is not only the decision of the human will. Joy is at the very same time a human emotion from the heart. It cannot be turned on and off like a light switch. It is a gracious and lovely gift. We receive it through faith. But we do not control or possess it. The joy he shares comes from beyond his present circumstances and ultimately this grateful, hopeful expression of heart, soul, mind and will comes from the God in whom he trusts.
We also hear a song of joy in the Gospel reading, the Magnificat of Mary. The young, soon to be mother, sang “My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.” She sang this joyful song after visiting with her cousin Elizabeth. Elizabeth helps Mary to welcome the news that came from an angel. The angel told Mary that she was to conceive a child. That news in and of itself wouldn’t have been that great. For Mary was only engaged. The customs of her day meant that her life would now be at risk as an unwed mother. The social pressures and stigmas would have been horrible and isolating. But the angel said that the child was not just any child. He would be called the Son of the Most High. This child, the angel said, came as an unlikely gift of the Holy Spirit. This child would grow up to be an amazing and surprising King. Mary received this news with faith. She trusted the promise of the angel. She decided not to run away and hide from what was now beginning to happen to her. She trusted that God was literally at work within her. And now God had given her work to do. Mary had nine months of demanding work that was coming her way. She had the new purpose of a mother with the news that she would not only bear but also raise a child. Receiving this news with faith and trusting the God’s purpose within it, she sang, “My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my savior.”
In Mary’s experience we see that joy comes in very down to earth and hands on ways. Having work to do, understanding one’s meaningful place and purpose that is connected to the grace and work of God brings joy.
One of the wonderful, often overlooked stories of joy in the Christmas story is the story of Simeon and Anna. They were both well advanced in years. Luke’s Gospel tells us that Anna was eighty-four years old. Their work, their heavenly purpose at the end of their life was simply to hold Jesus as a baby. They were in the temple when Joseph and Mary brought the enfant into the temple to be named and presented. Simeon came first to hold the child and then Anna. They claimed that this newborn would be a light to the world. And they rejoiced and praised God. And we remember their story two thousand years later. Anna, Simeon, Zechariah and Elizabeth and Mary all rejoiced – their circumstances were not always easy or likely experiences for joy, but in the midst of them they had discovered God to be present with them and God making them a part of what God was doing.
A favorite writer of mine is also a farmer. Wendell Berry tends the family farm on which he grew up in Henry County, Kentucky. He shares these reflections in his collection of writings entitled, What Are People For?
Good work finds the way between pride and despair.
It graces with health. It heals with grace.
It preserves the given so that it remains a gift.
By it, we lose loneliness:
we clasp the hands of those who go before us, and the hands of those who come after us;
we enter the little circle of each other's arms,
and the larger circle of lovers whose hands are joined in a dance,
and the larger circle of all creatures, passing in and out of life, who move also in a dance, to a music so subtle and vast that no ear hears it except in fragments.
That is a surprisingly joyful description of work learned from farming. I’ve known numerous farmers over the years, enough to know that farming is hard work. Yet Berry knows that his work is also a gift, imbued with purpose and meaning beyond his own efforts. Berry’s observations connect with the insights of young Mary and the Apostle Paul.
The message of Christmas gives us every reason for joy. Yet the way that we experience that joy …. the way that we feel it comes in down to earth and hands on ways. When we have good work, when we have meaningful things to do and when do them with faith in the God of Jesus Christ these become the occasions for joy in our lives. The work that we see in these Scripture passages is very different for each individual like Elizabeth, Mary, Simeon and Anna, and the vast array of people of every age and walk of life in Luke’s introduction to the Messiah’s birth. The work and purpose that each one of us as individual Christians find in our own lives is as different and unique as God has made each one of us to be. Yet as the body of Christ, as the church, we all share the gift of unique work to be done together. Worship is the work of the gathered people of God; the work we do together We have good and meaningful and worshipful work to do as we come to sing praise to God, to attend to the Scriptures and to lift up prayers for the world. It can be easy to lose sight of this most basic and central purpose of the church. Our technological and media age sometimes challenges the worth of this most basic work that the church has to do. Isn’t there something else that would make a bigger splash? Something to capture the news media’s attention. Why not try something else – maybe a Christian reality t.v. show – something like Presbyterian Survivor? I can see it twelve Presbyterian elders left on a deserted island with nothing but a Bible and a communion bread and grape juice.
Worship may not always be popular but it is always needful. There is nothing else like it. God calls and gathers us together. And the work of worship reorients us to God. It turns our perspective around from the ways of the world. We wake up and realize that we are not the audience in worship. We are the actors and God is the audience. For God is Creator and we are creature. And in this sense worship restores us to who we are, human beings created in the divine image, made for relationship with God and each other. And this memory that comes through the work of praise, prayer, song and Word becomes the opportunity for joy. Because we remember who we are and who God is. For only in being oriented to an eternal God do we find the possibility to transcend the anxieties and fears of the world and to fully know the experience of joy.
Frederick Buechner, from Whistling in the Dark
Have no anxiety about anything," Paul writes to the Philippians. In one sense it is like telling a woman with a bad head cold not to sniffle and sneeze so much or telling a lame man to stop dragging his feet.
Paul does not deny that the worst things will happen finally to all of us, as indeed he must have had a strong suspicion they were soon to happen to him. He does not try to minimize them. He simply tells the Philippians that in spite of them—even in the thick of them—they are to keep in constant touch with the One who unimaginably transcends the worst things and also unimaginably transcends the best.
"In everything," Paul says, they are to keep on praying. Come hell or high water, they are to keep on asking, keep on thanking, above all keep on making themselves known. He does not promise them that as a result they will be delivered from the worst things any more than Jesus himself was delivered from them. What he promises them instead is that "the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."
That is the sense in which he dares say, "Have no anxiety about anything." Or, as he puts it a few lines earlier, "Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say, Rejoice!"
Friends, may the Holy Spirit be with your hearts and minds and bring you joy! In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Belonging to God’s Promises
December 8, 2019 | Rev. Steve Willis
A foreign exchange student was having a hard time understanding and being a part of the Christmas season in the U.S. He wrote home to his parents:
They have this most amazing festival here … it’s all about a little boy with a drum and he’s been in a sleigh … in some straw, right next to some chestnuts roasting in an open fire. Yes, it is all a bit dangerous, but it’s OK because he is guarded by an enormous fat man in a red suit, named Round John Virgin, standing by a tree with a partridge in it. There is a lady kneeling nearby with a light over her head …. And a couple of sheep and a donkey and this really strange deer with a red electric nose, and a dog sleeping on top of a doghouse while a crotchety old man is hoisting this crippled boy on his shoulder who is handing onto a turkey neck and shouting, ‘God bless us everyone!’ Then they take all the packages and wrap them in paper, which they take right off again the little kids play with the paper and not the toys and the older kids exclaim, ‘Is that all there is?’ And the fathers sit in front of the t.v. while mothers collapse into a chair … and the festival concludes 30 days later with an observance called ‘Visa Card Day.’ It is then that everyone become quite serious and religious as millions of people open envelopes from the mail and shout at the top of their lungs – My Lord.
……….. It’s hard to feel apart of something that you don’t understand. And while this may be true in a funny way amidst all the confusing aspects of a secular December holiday season. Luke is writing the introduction of his Gospel in such a way that he wants his hearers not only to understand the Christmas story, but also to feel themselves a part of the story, to belong to God’s promises fulfilled in the birth of the Messiah.
We began this story last week, as we started listening to Luke’s long introduction to the Messiah by telling the story of Zechariah and Elizabeth. In our passage for this morning we heard what is called the Song of Zechariah. The song comes from the expressed joy of a simple country priest. Zechariah is an old man. He is a good man. Zechariah is one of those people that we have known whose memory brings warm thoughts of gratitude. He is no superstar in this story. He is near retirement and his position is very modest. He is a down to earth priest without rank or status. His name, Zechariah, is a common name. The Scriptures tell us of thirty other Zechariahs before him. The name Zechariah in Hebrew means “God remembers.”
Let’s remember some of that story. Zechariah and Elizabeth live in the rural hill country outside of Jerusalem. And on one particular Sabbath, his priestly division was responsible for temple management and services. It must have been an exciting thing to be a part of – and we don’t know how often his division would have had this honor. But even more than this on this Sabbath as he and fellow priest had made the trip into Jerusalem to fulfill their sacred duties – Zechariah discovered that the lot for the offering of the temple incense had fallen to him to perform. Probably the only time that he had ever had the honor to burn the incense in the holy space of the great temple of Jerusalem.
Surely he had to be more than a little bit nervous about it. But maybe it also made him feel like a kid again. He would have on his best and finest priestly vestments and prepared to enter into the presence of the divine on behalf of his people. He would have long ago memorized the Aaronic benediction, the words he would pronounce to the people at the end of the service.
The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord be kind and gracious to you.
The Lord look upon you with favor and give you peace. (Numbers 6: 24-26)
It’s a small but noble task. But I wonder if he was thinking about the course of his life while making the trip up to Jerusalem to perform these priestly duties? Maybe he was thinking back with gratitude and love for his wife Elizabeth. Maybe he was remembering the pain and disappointment that they were never able to have any children. They had prayed for children. They had waited for just one child to love and raise. And for Elizabeth in that day and time, there was a heavy social stigma attached to being a wife with no children. It must have hurt her. Surely he remembered all these things.
Then in the temple of the Sabbath morning, Zechariah was ready to do this priestly duty and to offer the incense in the holy place of God. We heard this part of the story last week, but it is important to remember it in order to understand the meaning of Zechariah’s song. Luke’s Gospel puts it this way. “And there appeared to him an angel of the Lord standing on the right side of the altar of incense. When Zechariah saw him, he was terrified; and fear overwhelmed him. But the angel said to him, ‘Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard. You wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will name him John.’ Zechariah said to the angel ‘How will I know that this is so? For I am an old man and my wife is getting on in years.’ The angel replied, ‘Because you did not believe my words, which will be fulfilled in their time, you will become mute, unable to speak, until the day these things occur.’”
So Zechariah comes out of the temple, but he cannot even pronounce the blessing of Aaron upon the people. He is speechless. And for the next nine months all that he can do is to wait. …….
After nine months when Elizabeth delivers her son, Zechariah named the boy John, just as the angel had told him. And of course his voice was restored and he was able to speak.
And when he did, he sang this song from our passage this morning.
Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,
For he has looked favorably upon his people and redeemed them.
He has raised up a mighty savior for us in the house of David.
By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give
light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the way of peace.
Zechariah found his part to play in the great story of God’s salvation. He waited for and named his son, John, trusting in the angel’s counsel. John would play a big part in preparing the way for the Messiah. And Elizabeth played an important part in giving birth to John and raising him. And of course Elizabeth’s cousin, Mary, would play a very important part in this story and Mary’s husband Joseph. But there are a whole host of people who are a part of this great story. There are the prophets from long before – Amos, Jeremiah, Isaiah, Micah among others. There were shepherds and angels. There are small parts in the story like Anna, her father Phanuel and Simeon. And of course there are those not named in the Scriptures but remembered by name by the God of this salvation story.
Being a part of God’s promises working out brings joy and new life to Zechariah and Elizabeth. But Zechariah sees a much bigger picture – the good news is not just for him, it’s for all of Israel, for his neighbors and the entire covenant people. He sings his song of joy because of what God is doing for everyone.
Zechariah reminds me of a friend and mentor in ministry to me. Stan entered the church triumphant many years ago but I remember hearing him preach his final sermon. Stan was retiring at 75 years old, after forty plus years of ministry. He had pastored Presbyterian churches in different parts of the country after graduating from Princeton Seminary shortly after World War II. I had heard Stan modestly tell stories about his life, about serving in the United States Army Airborne division, parachuting into Normandy, and eventually fighting in the Battle of the Bulge. So I knew that he had led quite a life – and maybe the temptation in a final sermon at retirement is to try to toot one’s own horn.
But the final story that he told was about the medieval stone masons, those builders who worked on the great European cathedrals, churches that took hundreds of years to finish. The stone masons spent their entire lifetimes crafting small parts of those great churches. Maybe they built a window archway or simply worked on a portion of a wall. But Stan imagined that they must have seen their small part as a contribution to the greater kingdom of God. The most blessed of them were certainly those who trusted that their small efforts were given for the glory of God. Of course in their lifetimes, they had not completed all the work to be done. That fulfillment was ultimately in the hands of God.
I could see that in Stan that there was a deep satisfaction to be found, not just in doing one’s own work faithfully, but in being a part of a much greater work. In knowing and remembering all those who had been a part before you and who had come and gone and now rest with God. He had been a part of kingdom work, a kingdom to which he belonged in this life and the next. In knowing that this great work will continue on and that younger, energetic hands and hearts will come after as well. A Christian faith that is both deep and wide has this capacity for truly being a part of the greater whole. As Christians we are called into the community of faith, the body of Christ, and we find meaning and gratitude not only in our own personal faith stories – as important as they are. But we find great strength in being a part and contributing to the well-being of the whole church and the kingdom of God to which she witnesses.
The connection and community that we see in a story like Zechariah and Elizabeth and Stan is especially compelling in our day and time when there is so much disconnection, and longing in our fast-paced world to find a place of belonging. There has been much written recently about the challenge of isolation and disconnection in contemporary culture. Let me mention one of these, Johann Hari’s book, titled, Lost Connections. He writes, “Protracted loneliness causes you to shut down socially, and to be more suspicious of any social contact,” Hari writes. “You become hypervigilant. You start to be more likely to take offense where none was intended, and to be afraid of strangers. You start to be afraid of the very thing you need most,” …. which is connection. ………………..
Gods Holy Spirit works through the connection of people to people throughout the Scriptures. It is a remarkable thing to behold – there are so many different, amazing parts to play – all intricately connected through God’s planning and timing. Sometimes the ways that the Spirit brings all these parts together just seems downright unlikely. Wouldn’t you think that if the Messiah was on the way that the easiest way to get the word out would be to get the King on board? I mean King Herod would have been able to announce it to the whole kingdom of Israel. But that’s not what God does. Nor does God just snap his fingers and make it so making us the passive objects of his steadfast love. Rather God spreads the word along the grassroots through the lives of people he invites, inspires and nudges to be a part of the Good News story. Shepherds, magi, country priests, wives without children, a simple couple starting their lives together. They say yes to being a part of what God is doing. Each one in a small way contributes what gifts, what songs, whatever ways they have to add to this greater story of the kingdom of God that is bigger than any single one of the individuals but which includes them and gives them a part to play.
That is the challenge for us this Advent, really an invitation to us from God. Will we say yes to the angel’s invitation to be part of the story of what God is doing? Will we say yes like Zechariah, ……. like he eventually did, after nine months of stewing about it? Will we say yes like Mary did? God invites us to be a part of it all.
This invitation isn’t just about what we are doing at church, although it is about church as well. It’s about the totality of our lives and not only seeing how God is present, but saying yes and entering in. The Good News is that we already are a part – God has made us a part and given us a place to belong through Jesus Christ. Yet this Advent season we do well to remember how disconnected our modern world can be. We can be people of connection, especially this time of year and especially with those we know that are yearning to feel the touch and belonging of all God’s children.
May God grant us the grace to say yes, and to join in, and be a part of the Spirit’s ongoing work of restoring and reconnecting all to the steadfast love we see in Christ, the long-awaited one.
In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
The Surprising King
December 1, 2019 | Rev. Steve Willis
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The view from a mountaintop gives perspective for a weary traveler and gives perspective on the larger layout of the surrounding geography. I remember the view from Mount Tabor in Israel which is six miles east of Nazareth. On a clear day Mount Tabor is visible from much of Galilee. It is very prominent. Yet not many people go to visit it. The narrow, winding switchbacks, leading up the mountain are too narrow for tourist busses. So only cars and vans can make it up to the top. At the top of Mount Tabor is a beautiful high-vaulted European basilica. Three clergy friends and I enjoyed the basilica alone together for much of the time except for the birds in the sanctuary and then later the Catholic bishop from Manchester, New Hampshire and four of his flock.
From the Mount Tabor mountaintop, we had a clear day and a clear view. Looking east we could see snow-capped Mount Hermon way up in the Golan Heights. There was so much rural, idyllic countryside, green in the height of spring, with yellow mustard plants all around. We could see the Cliff of Arbel and the eastern high elbow of the Galilean Sea. Just a few miles from Arbel we could see the Horns of Hattin, the high hill with a striking rock outcropping on both sides. That was the place where in 1187 the great army of Saladin, the Sultan of Egypt and Syria, fought the great Crusader army of Europe. Saladin and the Ayyubid dynasty prevailed and Muslim armies took over Jerusalem from the crusaders. It was amazing to see that rural hillside so far from any civilization and to think of the hundreds and thousands of soldiers who came from places so far away to fight each other and die there. The mountaintop gave perspective not only on the geography of Galilee but also a view to the long, amazing history of that part of the world.
I would like to suggest that this parable, the last parable of Matthew’s Gospel, is one that gives a mountaintop view over the whole of Jesus’ life and ministry as one look back in one direction. And it pauses to look forward toward the cross and the light of Easter morning. This parable is the culmination of chapter 25 which contains three parables, three end times, last things parables. Yet it also serves to give perspective over the other parables that have proceeded it. For a moment here, the camera pulls back to witness the entire landscape, which is a helpful thing for this particular Sunday on the church calendar.
This parable is an end time parable because at long last the Son of Man has returned, the bridegroom is no longer delayed but greets the bride, the master has returned to those whom he had entrusted the talents. He comes in glory with all the angels gathered about him and now the Lamb is upon the throne. Matthew’s Gospel has been preparing us to understand Jesus as the Christ, the one to whom all of heaven and earth shall bow. Now the one who had healed the sick and fed the hungry, the one who had silenced the storm and taught the ways of the Kingdom, has come as the Sovereign Lord of all nations.
Today is Christ the King Sunday on the church calendar. This is the last day of the liturgical year. Now, I know that the calendars on our refrigerators say that the end of the year comes at the end of next month and that long December dash to the end of 2014 and the beginning of 2015. But the church liturgical year ends today and the church always end with the vision of the risen Lord Jesus Christ as King of heaven and earth. Some of the most magnificent church hymns were written to express Christ’s Kingship.
Crown Him the Lord of peace;
Whose power a scepter sways,
From pole to pole, that wars may cease, absorbed in prayer and praise.
Crown Him the Lord of years,
The Potentate of Time;
Creator of the rolling spheres, ineffably sublime.
So how is it true that our risen Lord Jesus Christ is King, is Sovereign over heaven and earth? We witness the news and can easily see that wars have not ceased but continue to be the norm in some regions of the world that seem addicted to conflict and violence. We witness in our own culture a time that is far from being absorbed in prayer and praise, but is anxious and worried. Economic insecurity drives us to an ever increasing pace of life and often the technological advances which could be our friend become our master and add to the fever of a culture seemingly addicted to speed and far from the peace and shalom for which we long.
Let us take a closer look at this parable about the surprising Kingship of Christ, a parable that we often call the parable of the sheep and the goats. The heart of this parable is the surprise of how Christ reigns as Sovereign over the nations. But let me first admit that this parable often strikes a chord of fear into modern day hearers. Immediately upon hearing it people are often left dreading their own status as to whether they are to be counted among the sheep or the goats. I doubt that this was how the parable worked with Jesus’ own disciples and with the early church. But they lived in a much less individualistic age than our own. They may not have heard this parable in the way that we do almost automatically as an account of individual eternal salvation and damnation. Yet, however, they heard it, we also must wrestle with how we hear it today.
In the parable the Son of Man, the returning Sovereign, finally initiates the long awaited day of the consummation of all things. He comes as judge in setting aright a divine ordering, putting into alignment the purposes of heaven with the peoples of earth. Like a cosmic Shepherd he sorts the peoples like a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. So what is the measure by which he sorts the sheep from the goats? Here it is: the sheep are those who fed the hungry and gave drink to the thirsty, welcomed the stranger, clothed the naked, tended to the sick and visited the incarcerated. Notice that these actions are very much consistent with the life and manner of Jesus’ ministry. It should be said that these actions are consistent with the law that commanded care of the helpless, widow, orphan and sojourner. But it is very far from an exhaustive list of the commands of the law. Surprisingly, there is no mention of the worship of God. There is no reference to getting one’s theology “right” and no measure of assent to Jesus’ Lordship. This is the first surprise.
I remember seeing a cartoon a number of years ago. It was like one of the Farside cartoons that were so popular awhile back, but this one obviously came from a writer with some kind of theological background. In the single frame was Martin Luther, the great Protestant reformer, and he is walking with his head down in disbelief. In the background are two signs: one with clouds and gates that says heaven and the other pointing downward with flames and fire that says hell. Martin Luther is walking toward the flames and fire and in the little bubble that shows us what he is thinking Luther says to himself, “So it was works after all.” ……. A flat reading of this parable could lead to a simplistic works righteousness view of salvation. Have we done enough for the poor, the hungry, the outcast and lonely? Probably not. How could we ever be sure that we have done enough? Are forgiveness and grace out the window? Well, again a flat reading might lead to this fearful interpretation. But the weight of the parable is not simply a morality play in which those who tended to the least of these go to heaven and those who didn’t are counted among the goats.
The true surprise of the parable is that neither the sheep nor the goats realize what they have done or have failed to do. And even more surprisingly it turns out that the King has been present with them in those who were poor, hungry and sick. This is not how kings live. They live in royal palaces separated from the suffering of those in desperate conditions. But this King, the lamb upon the throne, holds court amidst the need of human beings. Those who worship and serve this cosmic King attend to the needy, not because it is simply one more thing to check off on the list of things to do, but rather because they meet their ever-present Lord in the face of their neighbor. The goats have already separated themselves by their own doing; they thought they need only attend to themselves. The sheep have already connected themselves to the purposes of heaven because they know that they share a common humanity with their neighbors.
So the reason for showing compassion on neighbors is not to win points for heaven. According to this parable and its vision of the reign of Christ, the reason to feed the hungry, tend to the sick and welcome the sojourner is to be in touch with reality. That is: reality in light of the heavenly kingdom. The truth is that we all share a common humanity given to us by our Creator. Regardless of income, race, social status or nationality, we have been created alike and carefully made in the image of God. And the risen Christ is present to us in the face of our neighbor, all our neighbors, even the poor, hungry and sick, …… especially the poor, hungry and sick.
The story of St. Francis of Assisi comes to mind when reflecting upon this parable and recognizing Christ in others. Giavanno di Bernadorne was his name before he became St. Francis. He was born to a father, Pietro, who was a very wealthy silk merchant. His father called his son, Francesco, Italian for the Frenchman. Francis lived a very lavish life as a wealthy young man, yet the suffering of war struck a change in him when he became a soldier for Assisi. Francis was still feeling very good and very cocky and very confident, but underneath it all, he was also feeling very empty. One day as he was riding along on his horse, he stopped and there was a beggar at his feet. Francis looked down at the beggar and the beggar had leprosy. His body was filled with open sores and wounds from the leprosy. Francis looked down, got down from his horse, bent down and picked up the man and looked into the man’s face. He then did something completely unthinkable. Francis put his arms around the beggar, put his face against the open wounds, and hugged the man. Francis embraced him, and then pulled his head away, and when he looked at the man he beheld the face of Jesus. The experience would lead to a dramatic change in Francis’ life. Though choosing never to be ordained, he would start the Franciscan order and much later become St. Francis who we remember as a joyful servant of God.
Friends, let us live by the light of the surprising, seemingly upside-down reality of God’s kingdom. Trust that the cosmic King of heaven and earth chooses to leave the royal courts beyond our reach in order to make himself known through the ordinary faces of those we encounter each and every day. ….. This week we will gather around Thanksgiving tables some of which chairs will be full and some which used to be full, but all which will be blessed by this ever-present Lord. We will give thanks and express gratitude for the blessings that we should never take for granted. But do something more than just give thanks for blessings. Look for the face of Christ in those around you. Look for his presence among family and friends. ….. And may God grant his grace to us to see our King Christ in the face of the poor so that we may be among those who give food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, welcome to the stranger, clothes to the naked, care to the sick, and attention to the imprisoned.
Let me close with some poetry by Gerard Manley Hopkins,
Í say móre: the just man justices;
Kéeps gráce: thát keeps all his goings graces; 10
Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is—
Chríst—for Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men’s faces
In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.