I always welcome the opportunity to preach on Psalm 23 on an occasion that is not a funeral. But while this is not a funeral service, many of us are grieving profound losses – temporary or perhaps even permanent losses of jobs, schools, churches, relationships, routines, stability, and health.  We have lost our “normal” way of living and being in the world. And that indeed is akin to death. So Psalm 23 couldn’t have come at a better time for us.

My seminary advisor – Walter Brueggemann – in a reflection on Psalm 23 - comments that “we live, from time to time, in the valley of the shadow of death. That valley in many forms is marked by risk and threat.” His words couldn’t be more timely. Indeed – depending on what part of the country or world we live in, as well as our vocation – we are in a valley marked by either immediate or potential risk and threat. And for us in our context here, this is new, uncharted territory. We don’t live with the constant threat of malaria or other diseases like some parts of the world. Our feelings lie somewhere along the spectrum of inconvenienced to terrified. 

During this pandemic, one of the best resources we Christians can lean on is holy scripture. Much of our scriptures were written by and for people who were living in a time of immediate or potential risk and threat. Such was the case for the writer of Psalm 23. 

But Brueggemann also points out that the “transformative power of God [that we hear about in Psalm 23] – to make safe, to fill cups, to set tables is also evident in our gospel lesson for today… The blind boy [whose sight is restored] bears witness to the power of God to overcome blindness and create new possibility.” And again, Brueggemann’s reflection on these texts for today couldn’t have been more prophetic for our current context. He reminds us that “Lent is a time to ponder the ‘valley’ and to relish the goodness of God that makes all things new.” Of course, when Ash Wednesday came this year, and we began to consider how we might keep a holy Lent, none of us imagined what was waiting for us. All of the sudden, giving up chocolate or caffeine or alcohol seems perhaps little bit superficial. We had no idea we’d be giving up our entire routines – whether at work, at school, or in our volunteer work. The covid19 virus is forcing us to scale back our schedules and lifestyles. And it is forcing us to consider what is most important to us. 

One silver lining of this pandemic is that it is forcing Christians to take more responsibility for our faith at home. Since we cannot commune with our fellow Christians through public worship, Bible and book studies, fellowship, and outreach, we are have been given the opportunity to commune with God in our own homes. If you are like me, this is hard work, because I prefer to connect with God within the context of my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. If a Bible Study has been cancelled, am I disciplined enough to pick up my Bible and do a study on my own? If public worship has been cancelled, am I disciplined enough to pray the Daily Office on my own at home? The disciplines we are learning during this pandemic will pay off once the pandemic is over. Even the uptick in personal and corporate sanitary practices will hopefully carry over long after this virus subsides.

Like our gospel lesson, our epistle lesson from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians talks about the journey from darkness to light. Paul is pointing out to the Christians in Ephesus that they were once blind when he writes, “Once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of light— for the fruit of the light is found in all that is good and right and true. Try to find out what is pleasing to the Lord.” Indeed, in any typical year, this lesson from Ephesians is a very appropriate Lenten reading. Brueggemann connects this reading with Psalm 23 when he writes, “As the valley in the psalm is also translated ‘darkest valley,’ the epistle reading takes up the theme of ‘darkness’ and witnesses to the light of the Lord in which the faithful way walk.” 

Again, if we are looking for something positive to come out of this crisis, it is that we as the Church have a wonderful opportunity to be Christ’s light shining in the darkness. Due to the fact that we can no longer “go” to church, we are faced with how we can truly “be” the church. One way we can “be” the church away from the church property is by doing exactly what y’all are doing now – participating from afar in your own homes. We are engaging technology in such a way that we are offering our prayers and praises to God and connecting with fellow members of Christ’s body even when we are not at the church. There has been a lot of critique on social media, screen time, and the like…and for good reason. But we as the people of God have a wonderful opportunity to use technology and social media for connecting with God and with one another. As is always the case, we must be wise as serpents and innocent as doves in our use of technology and social media.

We also have an opportunity to model how creative and loving we can be as we find ways to care for one another, particularly, the most vulnerable in our midst. One thing that has happened lately is the large number of parishioners who have reached out to me to check in on my family’s and my well-being. That has brought me much joy and comfort. Emily, Julian, Madeleine, and I truly feel loved by all of you! 

And I have also had a number of folks reach out to me, asking if any of our parishioners need anything such as delivery of food, groceries, or prescriptions. This proactive love for the most vulnerable among us has been wonderful to experience. If you or somebody you know needs anything, please contact the church office or me, and we will see to it that we find a way to help. This pandemic is affording us the opportunity to model Paul’s call for Christians to be  “children of the light,” who are to live differently in the world. 

Like the Pharisees in today’s gospel lesson, we have a choice. We can choose to believe in the healing power, love, and grace offered to us in Jesus Christ, or we can choose to be cynical and skeptical. We can choose to adjust to our new reality during this pandemic, and find creative ways to stay connected with God and one another, or we can use this as an excuse to be spiritually isolated. Social distancing and even isolation is a wise decision right now. Spiritual isolation is not. Our gospel lesson today is not just a story of the miraculous healing of a blind man to prove that Jesus is who he said he was. It is more than that. It is a story of hope. It is a story that reminds us that the way that things are are not the way things have to be. We can make the most of this current crisis in ways that I have mentioned above, but as Christians, one of our primary vocations is to be a people of hope. We not only remember and proclaim that Christ has died and Christ has risen. As a people of hope, we also believe and proclaim that Christ will come again. 

As such, The New Testament ends with these words: “The one who testifies to these things says, ‘Surely I am coming soon.’ Amen. Come, Lord Jesus! The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all the saints. Amen.”

Our Gospel lesson today is an interesting take on social distancing. Jesus and his disciples were making their way through the region of Samaria, when they reached the city of Sychar. Jesus was tired from their journey – likely physical and emotional exhaustion – so he chose to remain seated by the local well while his disciples went into town to fetch some food for lunch. That right there is an excellent example of self-care and social distancing. Jesus knew his needs, and he tended to them.

While he was at the well, he had this profound encounter with a Samaritan woman – which is his longest recorded conversation with a woman, as well as the longest set of verses that forms one coherent unit or thought in the New Testament. The woman herself happens to be practicing her own version of self-care and social distancing. Our text tells us that it was noon, which is a very unlikely time for women to go to the well to draw water. That task was typically reserved for dawn or dusk. It is likely that, given what we know about her personal story, the daily social gathering at the well with the other local women was not a happy time for this woman. It is very likely that she felt shunned, judged, and ostracized by the other women in Sychar. So for her, she chose brave the heat of the midday sun to fetch her water alone and in peace.

The irony is that in both Jesus and the woman’s attempt to socially distance themselves and spend some peaceful time alone at the well, they ended up having one of the most profound social encounters in all of scripture. In the Orthodox Church, this woman is recognized as a saint and is given the name “Photina” – which means “enlightened one” or “light.”  St. Photina is the first person in John’s gospel to recognize Jesus as the Messiah, and is considered to be equal among the apostles.

An interesting bookend to this holy encounter at the well is that Photina came to the well with her water jar in hand, but when she returned to the city to share the Good News of her encounter, and invited the folks to “come and see,” John makes a point to tell us that she left her water jar at the well. After her encounter with Jesus, her immediate task at hand, as well as her bigger picture vocational calling, both were dramatically changed. Now that she had encountered the Living Water becomes “a spring of water gushing up to eternal life,” she no longer needed her jar. And all of this happened when two people – Jesus and Photina – had made the conscious decision to practice self-care through social distancing.

And that fact brings us to our situation today. The current Covid-19 pandemic has brought us into a time and space that, as far as my lifetime is concerned, I can only compare to 9-11. But there are many differences to 9-11, namely, that we can’t blame this virus on a person, group, or nation. And we can’t respond by a rally cry of patriotic fervor and promise to eliminate the virus through military force and political sanctions. And this virus knows no allies – it is quickly becoming a worldwide crisis that ironically might unify our world for a common cause better than any military action or global summit has ever been able to do.

The other irony of the pandemic is that the immediate response and solution is calling for social distancing – dare I even say, isolation for some. As a nation, and as Christians, we are a people who are accustomed to coming together to solve problems. We believe that our strength is in communities – with the young, strong, healthy, and privileged members looking after and caring for those who are not. Simply put, we are better together. So what are we to do with the scientifically- and medically-backed call to social distancing? Can we be faithful Christians at a distance?

It seems rather providential that this pandemic has come upon us during the season of Lent – when the Church calls us to a period of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. As it turns out, we are being forced to give up more than we had originally planned. In addition to giving up coffee, chocolate, alcohol, sweets, and the like, some of us are having to give up vacations that we had planned to go on for Spring Break. Work-related conferences and gatherings have been cancelled or switched to virtual gatherings. We are being advised to avoid church, gyms, yoga classes, and other places that, especially during Lent, we might have committed to attending more, not less. Schools, colleges, and universities are being closed and moved to a digital format. Who’d have thought that during Lent, we’d end up giving up church, the gym, and school?

Of course, if church ends up being cancelled over the next few weeks, that is not a call to temporarily quit practicing our Christian faith. We will just have to practice it differently. And we will have to care for the most vulnerable in our communities differently. In our gospel lesson today, as I mentioned before, Photina changed course in the midst of her day. She started out with a task at hand, with her water jar in her hand. But after her encounter with the Living Water of Jesus Christ, she left her jar at the well and set out to share the Good News. Her new calling involved new tools, so to speak. And such is the case for us. We are being invited - and in some cases, forced – to set our regular tools, tasks, and routines aside for the time being so that we can attend to the situation at hand. 

I spoke to my sister and her family yesterday. She and her husband live in Baltimore, and they have three teenaged children. They are the epitome of busy lifestyles with work, church, school, and extra-curricular activities. Charles’ upcoming work-related annual sales conference was canceled. In-person worship at their church has been cancelled. Their schools have been closed for two weeks, and that is not even during Spring Break like ours. Their kids’ sports events and concerts have been cancelled. And they are avid sports fans as well, and had plans to watch March Madness. As we were talking yesterday, they commented that the next few weeks were going to be eerily quiet and sedentary. But they also remarked that in a way, it is a welcome “pause” on their extremely busy lives. In times past, folks didn’t spend Spring Break going on Disney cruises, snow skiing out West, or trips to Europe. 

It’s interesting that it wasn’t the season of Lent that forced us to put our water jars down and re-focus our priorities. It took a worldwide pandemic. But God is always present in every situation. No, I don’t believe that God sent us the Coronavirus to teach us to slow down and re-focus our priorities. But now that we are in the midst of this pandemic, we have an opportunity to do just that. And while we practice healthy, wise social distancing, we might also consider how else we might use this time to re-focus our priorities. What are the jars that we need to set down so we can tend to the work that Christ is calling us to do? How might we, during this down time, invite others to “Come and See” the Good News of Jesus Christ? Given our limited personal social contact, we might re-connect with old friends and family members with whom we have been too busy to keep up with. We might write a letter to someone – especially someone in prison. This is an excellent time for us to be in solidarity with folks who are in forced isolation.

I don’t know if we will have worship here in person the next few weeks. The bishop will make a decision on that in the next few days. But whether we are here in person or not, we are still called to practice our faith. And this is an excellent time to pick up the practice of praying the Daily Office at home if you don’t already. That is a discipline that truly embodies “common prayer” – praying in community with people all over the world.

 In the meantime, be gentle with yourselves and take advantage of this opportunity to slow down and refocus our priorities. If you know of someone who is not here, and who you haven’t seen in a while, give them a call to check in. And let me know if there is anybody who needs a check-in from me. We’re going to be doing a lot of virtual pastoral care, and we’ll all need to be in this together. My first prayer is that this pandemic ends quickly. And my second prayer as that this pandemic will draw us all closer to God and one another in ways that we might have never imagined.

With the Last Sunday after the Epiphany, this “season of light” is drawing to a close. In case we’ve been missing the sometimes-subtle light imagery over the past six weeks, the light in today’s scripture readings are anything but subtle. First we hear about Moses going up on Mount Sinai, where the appearance of the glory of the Lord was like a devouring fire. And then we hear about Jesus ascending a mountain and being “transfigured” before the very eyes of Peter, James, and John. Now you might be wondering, “what in the world does it mean to be transfigured, anyways?” Well in this case, what it means is that Jesus’ face was shining like the sun and his clothes were dazzling white. So in a nutshell, our story from Exodus and our story from Matthew are stories about light – not just any light - but the brilliant, radiant light of God. Jesus was so bright that the “Sun of God” moniker bears an entirely new meaning. 

Now, as we talk about light today, we do so knowing that around the corner, forty days of darkness awaits. But for now, we are still in the season of light. And as we wrap up this season of light, I’d like to reflect on the sacrament holy baptism. And while baptism is about washing away our sin, dying and rising with Christ, and grafting a new member into the Body of Christ, I believe that it is also about light and transfiguration.  

While the word “transfiguration” might seem a bit otherworldly, it simply means an “exalting, glorifying, or spiritual change.” And through the waters of baptism, the change that the candidate undergoes is, among many things, exalting, glorifying, and spiritual. And when we bear witness to the transfigurative moment of holy baptism, those who are being baptized are not the only ones who will be transformed. The entire Body of Christ – the Church Universal - will have brand new members grafted into it. And together as members of Christ’s one Body, we – along with the newly baptized -  will reflect Christ’s dazzling light shining forth in the world. And that is why I think the day when we have this mountaintop celebration for the season of light is an appropriate day to reflect on the meaning of baptism.  

And while holy baptism is a universal sacrament – we are baptized into the one holy, catholic, and apostolic Church – it is also a contextual sacrament. We are also being baptized in a particular parish church in a particular context. Now if anyone is hoping to find or thinks they have found the perfect expression of the Body of Christ here at Christ the King – or any other church -  they had better keep looking. There is only one perfect Body, and that is Christ himself. But I have experienced Christ the King to be a wonderfully faithful, loving, servant-minded church, that we can all be proud to call our church home.  

One way you can see if a parish church is nurturing a healthy “baptismal culture” is to check out the church calendar, schedule, and announcements. In other words, what is happening in between the weekly Sunday worship services that promotes a baptismal culture? Are there opportunities to gather as a body throughout the week to offer our sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving, as well as to offer intercessory prayer for the Church, the world, and our fellow parishioners, family members, and friends? Does the church actively engage initiatives that invite us to be in solidarity with people that live, work, and worship beyond our church walls? Is it a church that acknowledges that not only God matters, but God’s people matter too? I can truly say with confidence that Christ the King is parish family that takes seriously our calling to live into our baptismal covenant by seeking to serve Christ in all people, by loving our neighbors as ourselves. And by doing so, my family and I have experienced Christ the King to a bright light, shining forth in the world.

Another lens through which we can examine a parish church in light of the baptismal covenant is Christian education and spiritual formation. Here at Christ the King, we are working hard to nurture a culture of lifelong learning, regardless of one’s age. You will see in your bulletin this morning a description of the new full-time staff position we are creating here. It is called the Director of Family Faith Formation. Over the past 18 months, our Children and Youth Ministry Renovation team worked with our consultant to establish noteworthy Christian Formation milestones and Core Competencies from birth through high school graduation. That way, when they graduate from high school, they will know that here at Christ the King, they are loved and nurtured by a whole host of adults other than just their parents. After all, the old saying is true - it takes a village to raise a child. And we aim to raise our children so that they will reflect Christ’s dazzling, transfigurative light shining forth in the world.

But as wonderful as all of this sounds, anybody here who is a parent of adolescent and teenage children knows that the older our children get, the busier their lives will become. It is no longer assumed that families go to church on Sundays. In my experience, the church isn’t losing teens to things like alcohol, drugs, sex, or death metal music. We are losing them to soccer, lacrosse, dance, SAT prep courses, and the like. Now don’t get me wrong - these are important, wholesome activities for our kids. They just happen to be going on seven days a week now, and families now are being forced to choose between club sports and church on Sundays. When we baptize children, the congregation is asked, “Will you who witness these vows do all in your power to support these children in their life in Christ?” The challenge for all of us who answer this question is to find a way to make life in the church normative for young families. The challenge for all of us here - is to raise our children and grandchildren up so that church on Sundays is simply something that the family does – just like school and work during the week. Of course, the challenge for the church is to make “church on Sundays” – or perhaps Church on another day at a different time - worth the effort, especially when so many other compelling options are available. And that is why we are investing in a full-time staff position that is dedicated to children, youth, and young family ministries. If our children, youth, and young families aren’t being introduced to the exalted, glorifying light of Christ, how can they go out and be the dazzling light shining forth into the world? If you would like to be a part of one of the teams that we are forming that will serve to support our new staff person, please contact me today or this week. 

Now, we must remember that the end purpose of Christianity isn’t to care for others who are less fortunate than we are or to be well educated and formed in the Christian faith – as crucial as all of these things are. The goal is that by being baptized into Christ, and by being a member of a church family that values and outreach, pastoral care, education, and worship, all of us here at Chris the King will reflect Christ’s dazzling light into a world that is inhabited by darkness. But we must remember, that when we invite folks to our church, we are not inviting them to our programs. We are inviting them meet Jesus Christ. And through the sacrament of holy baptism, we are inviting them to be grafted into Christ’s very own body. Think about that for a second – we aren’t just learning about Christ…through the sacrament of holy baptism we become a part of Christ’s very own body. Our work here at Christ the King is to nurture a culture that invites Christ’s transfigurative light to shine in, through, and from us – those who are recently baptized and those who were baptized decades ago - so that we serve as bearers of God’s exalted, glorifying love in the world, compelling those who we meet to come and see who and what this Jesus is all about.

The Epiphany begins on January 6 with the story of the Magi from the East following the light of the star all the way to the Christ child in Bethlehem.  The star literally illumined the way, but the deeper meaning is that the Gentiles were being invited on a journey from darkness to light. This light was no longer only for the people of Israel. The season of Epiphany picks up and carries this theme of the light shining in the darkness. And this light is God’s light being made manifest in Jesus Christ. 

In today’s Old Testament lesson the prophet Isaiah uses the metaphor of God’s light shining in the darkness to express a new era of freedom from bondage.

Isaiah prophesied that God would raise up a new King of Israel who would liberate them from their bondage under Assyrian rule. As it turns out, Isaiah was right and wrong. God did eventually shine God’s light into their darkness by sending Israel a new king. But, this King – this light – would be for all people, not just Israel. 

In our gospel lesson today, Matthew picks up on Isaiah’s prophesy, as well as his metaphor. He points out that after John the Baptist was arrested, Jesus shifted the epicenter of his ministry to “Galilee of the Gentiles,” just as Isaiah prophesied. And in that region where “people sat in darkness,” this new King – Jesus, would invite his first disciples to follow “a great light.” These first disciples did what the Magi at the beginning of Matthew’s gospel did – they followed the “great light,” not knowing where it would lead them, but knowing that it was indeed like no other light they had seen before.

This “great light” about which Isaiah prophesied and was fulfilled in Jesus Christ is a light that changes all who see and follow it. It forever changed the Magi, as Matthew notes that they went home by a different road. Of course there were practical reasons they chose another road home, but there is also an ontological reason – their very own essence was forever changed once they encountered the Light of Christ. And the disciples who chose to follow the Light – to follow Jesus – were forever changed. They too took a different road home once they saw Jesus. 

But this light doesn’t invoke easy, superficial change. The first words out of Jesus’ mouth when he began his ministry in “Galilee of the Gentiles” was an echo of his mentor John the Baptist - “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” In other words, the first thing that this light illumined was Israel’s and our desperate need to repent – to turn around. The light shining in our darkness is akin to lifting up a rug and seeing the dust and dirt that has been hidden underneath. But the light also calls us out of our darkness – out from underneath the rug, and into a new reality that is illumined and guided by the light of Christ.

For the disciples in our gospel lesson today, this new reality was drastic indeed, as it required a change of vocation, location, and purpose. They “immediately left their nets and followed Jesus.” Like the Magi, they were forever changed by their encounter with Christ’s light, so they took a different road home.

So what is our new reality? What effect does God’s light shining in the darkness have on us? How is this “great light” that was prophesied by Isaiah and fulfilled in Jesus more than just a quaint, sentimental observation for us? How can and does this light usher in an entirely new reality for us as it did the Magi, the disciples, and countless saints who have gone before us? 

 I think that the first step for us during this season of Epiphany is to not only look for, be aware of, and observe the light, but also to follow the light. This will be challenging work – or as Dietrich Bonhoeffer called it – “the cost of discipleship.” We don’t know what ever came of the Magi, but we do know what came of those first twelve disciples that Jesus called. As hard a life as commercial fishing is, their lives as followers of Christ light was, on one level, much more difficult. We must remember that once Christ ascended into heaven, all of the disciples died martyrs deaths. But look at the impact they had not only on their generation, but the generations that would follow, all the way up to ours. I am not advocating for martyrdom – thanks be to God that following Christ’s light in our context here doesn’t result in that. But it does require a death of sorts. It does require what John and what Jesus called for – it calls for repentance. It calls for a turning around and a new beginning. And there will be turn arounds and new beginnings over and over and over again. 

When we look for, see, and follow Christ’s light, we will indeed be both convicted and redeemed. But we will not have to stand alone in our journey out of darkness into the light. As noted in our Psalm today, the light gives us strength and courage in the face of darkness. The psalmist declares, “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom then shall I fear?... For in the day of trouble, [this light] shall keep me safe in his shelter; he shall hide me in the secrecy of his dwelling and set me high upon a rock…Therefore, I will offer in his dwelling an oblation with sounds of great gladness; I will sing and make music to the Lord.” 

And here we are, in the Lord’s dwelling, making an oblation – our sacrifice and offering of praise and thanksgiving for all that God has done, is doing, and will continue to do. The call to follow the light of Christ is an odd and wondrous calling, and thankfully it isn’t an isolated call. The call to follow the light of Christ and to be the light of Christ is always a call into community. During this season of Epiphany, let us look for, enter into, follow, and remain in the light.

During the season of Epiphany, we are invited to explore the many ways in which Jesus’ identity as the son of God are manifested – or made visible to us. The first sign – and the one that begins this season - is the Magi’s visit to pay homage to the Christ child. Their visit not only announces that there was born a new king of the Jews, but also a new king of the Gentiles as well. This child was born to redeem all of humanity.

The second manifestation of Jesus’ divine identity and purpose is the story of Jesus’ baptism. In just a few days since the Feast of the Epiphany on January 6, we have fast forwarded from Jesus as a toddler to Jesus as an adult. It took 30 or so years for Jesus to begin the public fulfillment of his messianic identity and calling. And he chose launch his public ministry through the Jewish cleansing rite of baptism. John’s call for people to be baptized in the Jordan River was a call to repentance… a moral, ethical, and religious “reset” so to speak. So it begs to question why Jesus himself submitted to such a ritual. John himself wondered the same thing when he said to Jesus, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?”

But Jesus saw his submission to baptism “as a fulfillment all righteousness.” In other words, there was more to it than what was happening right then and there. Such was the case with much of what Jesus did – the Last Supper was more than just a final Passover meal with his friends. The crucifixion was more than just an execution by the state. These events in Jesus’ life had many layers of meaning and purpose. And his baptism was no different.

Jesus’ baptism – which marked the beginning of his public ministry - pointed to his death and resurrection – which marked the end of his earthly ministry, but the beginning of something entirely new. Anglican scholar and bishop N.T. Wright once recalled a funeral sermon he heard, in which the preacher proclaimed, “As we trust that Jesus died and was raised to heaven, so we trust that our beloved friend has now died and has been raised to heaven.” Bishop Wright went on to say, “That’s not the point. Easter is not Jesus getting to heaven when he died.  Easter is Jesus’ newly-embodied life launching God’s new creation through the water of death. And that’s why, from the very earliest Christian sources that we possess, Christian baptism is linked not just to Jesus’ own baptism, not just to the Exodus and first creation, but to Jesus’ own death and resurrection.”

The apostle Paul asserted that in the rite of baptism, we are not just being cleansed – we are being drowned. We are plunged into the waters of baptism so that we may die with Christ. And we are raised up out of the waters of baptism so that we may be raised to a new life in Christ. As such, this is a far cry from a sentimental ritual that only comes into play once we die. As with Jesus, our first death and resurrection happen through the waters of baptism, as a sacramental sign of what is to come. For those of us who were here last Sunday when we baptized Aiden, it makes perfect sense that he would cry through the whole service like he did!  Perhaps he had a deep, God-given intuition that he was about to be drowned and brought back to life. Who wouldn’t cry – or run if we are able - under these circumstances?

In his letter to the baptized Christians in Rome, the Apostle Paul wrote, “count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus.” In examining this passage as it pertains to baptism, N.T. Wright points out that it seems to appeal “for faith on the basis of baptism” as opposed to baptism on the basis of faith. In other words, much of the working out of our faith in Christ Jesus happens after we have died to our old selves and been born anew through the sacrament of baptism. In exploring Paul’s understanding of baptism, Bishop Wright asserts that it certainly doesn’t mean “now that you’ve got all your Christian understanding together, we can baptize you.”

The “working out” of our faith as members who have been baptized into Christ’s body can take on many forms. In the sermon we heard in our reading from Acts today, Peter tells us that Jesus “commanded us to preach to the people and to testify that he is the one ordained by God as judge of the living and the dead. All the prophets testify about him that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name.”

Oftentimes we hear preachers focus the part of Jesus’ baptism where we hear God the Father’s voice from heaven proclaim that “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” If we are not careful, this statement from God can be misinterpreted into something along the lines of, “we are being baptized because God is pleased with us, or, because we are baptized, God is pleased with us.” And then baptism becomes about us, and God being pleased with us. Now don’t get me wrong, God loves us as God’s very own children. And God’s love for all of creation can’t be overemphasized. But Jesus wasn’t baptized because God was pleased with him. And we aren’t baptized because God is pleased with us. 

The Jewish people who heard Matthew’s account of Jesus’ baptism would have immediately recollected the words of the prophet Isaiah, which is why Isaiah 42 is paired with our Gospel lesson today. It begins with God saying, “Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights…” In regards to this servant, Isaiah goes on to prophesy,

“I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness,
I have taken you by the hand and kept you;

I have given you as a covenant to the people,
a light to the nations,
to open the eyes that are blind,

to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon,
from the prison those who sit in darkness.”

As Christians, we read this prophesy as a foretelling of Christ, but also, as those who are grafted into Christ’s body through our baptisms, as a foretelling of our own vocations as members of Christ’s body. Yes, God delights in us. Yes, we are God’s beloved. But we are delightful and beloved not because of how good we are, but rather, so that we may be equipped to be a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind (beginning with our own), to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, and from the prison those who sit in darkness. As we heard from baby Aiden last week, being among the baptized is terrifying business. Being drowned with Christ isn’t for the lukewarm or faint of heart. But rising out of the waters of baptism into new life with Christ is the greatest privilege and calling to which one can be called. Let us rejoice and be glad that we are God’s beloved. And let us live into that truth with a humble dose of fear and trembling, as we are sent out as God’s baptized “to do the work [God] has given us to do, to love and serve [God] as faithful witnesses of Christ our Lord.”

Today marks a unique situation because we are about to graft two new members into the Body of Christ, but we are doing so on an atypical Sunday. Normally, we would be celebrating the sacrament of Holy Baptism next Sunday, on the Feast of the Baptism of our Lord Jesus Christ. But one standing principle I have always held to is that I will always make an exception to the baptismal feast day when military deployment is the reason. Margo Neely’s father, Gus, is in the Army, and will be deployed to Afghanistan this week. So needless to say, baptizing Margo when her father can be here is simply the right thing to do.

With that being said, one of the challenges we are faced with today is that instead of hearing the heart-warming Gospel lesson where Jesus is baptized by his cousin John, we instead hear the disturbing story of an infuriated King Herod ordering the killing of all boys in and around Bethlehem who were aged two and under. Herod’s intention was to make sure that this new “King of the Jews” that the Magi had come to pay homage to would be destroyed, and Herod’s kingship would be preserved. An interesting thing to note is that our lectionary actually cuts out this horrible interlude – found in verses 16-18 of Matthew’s gospel. But since we are already “breaking rules” today, I felt like it was important to not try to protect you from the whole story form Matthew’s gospel lesson. We need to be reminded why the angel told Joseph in a dream to flee to Egypt. And we need to know the horrific circumstances that Jesus and his parents avoided by fleeing to a foreign country. 

We don’t get any follow-up from this story, but I have to imagine that Mary, Joseph, and Jesus lived with this trauma for the rest of their lives. Had Jesus returned to live in Bethlehem, he would have been the only boy in his age group. Perhaps that is another reason – besides Archelaus being in control - that the Holy Family chose not to return to Bethlehem when they returned from Egypt. Imagine the stares from the parents of boys who had been slaughtered when Jesus arrived at the Temple, the neighborhood, or the marketplace.

But rather than editing, censoring, or altogether skipping perhaps one of the most unsettling stories in all of Holy Scripture for fear of raining on our baptism parade, I think that this story has a lot of wisdom for us to consider. 

I think first and foremost, this is a story about power. When the Magi showed up at King Herod’s palace in Jerusalem announcing that they were there to pay homage to the new king who had been born, Herod was immediately threatened. These exotic gentiles from the East travelled incredibly far – led by a star in the sky no less- to pay homage to a Jewish child. This turn of events was terribly unsettling for Herod - the paranoid, imbalanced proxy-king of the Jews. But in spite of his unstable mental state, Herod knew enough to suspect that there was something to the Magi’s shocking claim that a dramatic shift in power was on the horizon. Given this encounter, Herod did what he only knew how to do – he responded with violence.

And when Joseph was once again visited by an angel in a dream – this time telling him to flee to Egypt with Mary and Jesus – Joseph was doing what any parent would do. He acted in the best interest of his family, and particularly his child. Even if doing so was unsettling and inconvenient.

Thanks be to God that in our context here today, acting in the best interest of our children doesn’t involve fleeing the country to protect our children from a maniacal, violent king. But by choosing to have Margo and Aiden baptized today, Gus, Jodi, Guillermo, and Carla are indeed acting in the best interest of their children. They are loving them, and yes, even protecting them from the forces of evil that are still prevalent in the world today. Like Mary and Joseph did when they fled to Egypt, the Neely’s and the Taxes have made an incredibly important decision as parents today. And like Mary and Joseph, the Neely’s and Taxes will be faced with many more decisions as Margo and Aiden continue to grow. But from this point forward, the decisions that they make will be framed within the Body of Christ, through the sacrament of Holy Baptism. They are boldly professing that they need God’s help and our help in raising Margo and Aiden. They need us, their church family, to stand alongside them when times are good and when they are not-so-good. Jodi will need us to support her, Caroline, and Margo while Gus is deployed in Afghanistan. Gus will need to know that his three girls are being well-cared for while he is away. 

Carla and Aiden came by the church a couple of months ago to meet me and to learn more about the Episcopal Church in general, and Christ the King in particular. She mentioned to me that she and Guillermo wanted to have Aiden baptized and raised in church family that will love him and teach him about the love of God. It was one of the most joyful visits I’ve had recently. Carla and Guillermo are already making important decisions as parents. And as I said before, there will be many more.

As Margo and Aiden grow up, they will begin having to make decisions on their own. Being baptized was a decision that was made for them by their parents. But at some point, their walk with Christ will need to be something they claim and nurture for themselves. And I am a firm believer that a large part of their decision will be based on how they experienced church when they were growing up. Did they feel loved, supported, nurtured, and included at Christ the King? Was it clear to them that our leadership was as committed to their thriving as children and youth as we are to other programs and demographics in the church? Were they given the opportunity to know and love Jesus and learn how to apply that relationship to their daily lives? In a few moments, when Margo and Aiden are presented to the congregation for baptism, I will ask all of you to stand, and I will ask if you who are witnessing these vows will do all in your power to support these children in their life in Christ. And your response is “we will.” Gus, Jodi, Guillermo, and Carla aren’t the only ones who are making an important decision today. So are we. And we will stand before God and these families when we do so.

What I think is critically important for all of us to remember today is that raising children in a life of Christ is a full-time job, for the parents and for us, their church family. We all have important decisions to make long after today, when we decide to support these children in their life with Christ. The Neelys and the Taxes will have to decide for themselves how important it is to attend church every week as a family. They will have to make the decision as to whether or not it is important to attend Sunday School, which will mean arriving one hour early for church. They will have to decide whether or not they will commit to having their children participate in youth group at Christ the King. In this incredibly busy world with many, many organizations and extra-curricular activities competing for their time and commitment, the Neelys and Taxes will have incredibly important decisions to make for their children and family. What is most important to them? Who do they want their children to be around? Where do they want their children to be? And we as church leaders will also need to make decisions regarding how friendly of a place this is for children and youth. In other words, it goes both ways. If Christ the King doesn’t commit to nurturing young families, they might not flee to Egypt, but they will flee, and I wouldn’t blame them one bit. They, like Mary and Joseph,  would simply be doing what is best for their families.

On a personal note, I can’t think of a better way to love, nurture, and protect your children than to decide to make church your number one priority as a family. Christ the King and the Tree House Episcopal Montessori School have been a remarkable place for my own children. And I am deeply grateful for that. And I truly believe that no other place will equip us better to navigate this chaotic world in which we live with a spirit of love, wisdom, grace, and spiritual maturity than the church. But our church will have to continue to make young families a priority, and young families will need to make church a priority. I truly believe that making church a priority for your family is a matter of life and death. Not a King Herod-like death, but a spiritual death nonetheless.

In our lesson from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians today, Paul reminds us that [God] destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace that he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved. That, my friends, is holy baptism in a nutshell – being adopted as children through Jesus Christ. Paul goes on to say, “I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe.” That also, my friends, is baptism in a nutshell. Thank you Gus, Jodi, Guillermo, and Carla for having the wisdom, courage, and spiritual discipline to make a public commitment to raising Margo and Aiden as children of Christ here at Christ the King. And may God bless us all as we journey forward as a family in Christ, loving and nurturing one another as we grow in our faith as disciples of Christ.

The season of Christmas is good for my spiritual growth. It invites me out of my comfort zone and into the practice of awe-inspired adoration of God. You might be surprised to hear me – a priest – say that I’m not accustomed to offering my unbridled adoration to God. But that is the truth.

The hymns of the Christmas season do a good job of inviting us into the space of adoration. “O Come all ye Faithful” is a great example, where we sing “O Come let us adore Him” several times throughout the hymn. One might even confuse it for a contemporary Christian praise chorus that repeats the same line over and over again! But in all seriousness, the hymns of Christmas remind us that our primary vocation as Christians is to praise and glorify God. The adoration for God in the Christ child brings about a light in the darkness of winter that is palpable and infectious.

The hymnal of the Bible – the psalter - also does a good job of employing  language of adoration towards God. The fact that Psalm 147 was appointed for today reminds us that we are still in the season of celebration, adoration, and praise. It opens with the not-so-subtle – “Hallelujah! How good it is to sing praises to our God! How pleasant it is to honor him with praise!” And then it continues to adore and praise God for twenty more verses!

But like I said before, my default mode of spirituality isn’t adoration. An abiding, dignified, solemn reverence for God was modeled for me at St. John’s Episcopal Church, which is where I was raised and formed in the faith. But reverence and adoration, though related, are not the same thing. Given that our ecclesial roots are in England, it is natural that the Episcopal Church – generally speaking – errs on the side of a stoic, staid spirituality. And that is what I grew up with. It wasn’t until I ventured outside of my home church that I first experienced a deeply emotional adoration of God. I think it was at boarding school, when I went to my first-ever Young Life event. I was shocked by how much these adult leaders seemed to truly love Jesus on a personal, emotional level. I had never seen or experienced anything like it. It was so palpable that it actually made me uncomfortable.

Now, there are always exceptions to the perceived Episcopal “norm” – most notably being our Presiding Bishop, Michael Curry. His adoration for Jesus is so real and authentic that it can’t be contained by our staid, stoic roots. And it has been a wonderful thing for those inside and outside our Church to witness. 

But the adoration of God isn’t limited to the high-energy, emotional, extroverted adoration of God. On the other side of the ecclesial spectrum, the Roman Catholic and Orthodox traditions do an excellent job of adoring God through their prayer, liturgy, and traditions. Their adoration, among many things, is directed towards the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Blessed Sacrament, the Saints, and icons of the church. As such, there have been times when I have felt equally as uncomfortable in these type of settings as I was at that Young Life event in high school. The adoration I was witnessing wasn’t overly emotional or sentimental. But it felt irrational and even superstitious to me.

At this point in my spiritual journey, I have come to recognize that there are many ways to worship, praise, and adore God. And if some of those ways make me feel uncomfortable, that doesn’t negate their value to the Christian faith. What I need to discover for myself, and what I think we all might consider exploring, is how we might incorporate the adoration of God into our own personal lives of prayer.

During this most recent season of Advent, at our daily Morning Prayer services, we added a reading from a book entitled “Advent with Evelyn Underhill.” Evelyn Underhill is a 20th Century English mystic, and one of my more recent spiritual heroes. I added these daily readings from Underhill after having recently read a paper she presented to a clergy conference in England back in 1926. This paper, entitled “Concerning the Inner Life,” has had a profound impact on my own spiritual life since I read it. One thing that Underhill points out in “Concerning the Inner Life” is that “One’s first duty is adoration, and one’s second duty is awe, and only one’s third duty is service. And … for those three things and nothing else, addressed to God and no one else, you and I … were created… Two of the three things for which our souls were made are matters of attitude: adoration and awe. Unless these two are right, the last of the triad, service, won’t be right. Unless the whole of your…life is a movement of praise and adoration, unless it is instinct with awe, the work which the life produces won’t be much good.”

In other words, the mission of the Church must be grounded in a deep, abiding, intimate relationship with God…one that produces adoration and awe towards God first. And only after that are we to offer our service to God and others. If our good deeds, charity, and partnerships with those who serve the marginalized of society are not grounded in adoration and awe towards God, then, as Underhill points out, they “won’t be much good.”

I’ve never thought of it this way before, but after reading Evelyn Underhill, I’m seeing Christmas in a whole new light. The Feast of the Nativity and the Season of Christmas arrive as we are wrapping up our calendar year, as well as beginning our plans for the upcoming year. We are tallying up our results from our stewardship campaign, and making important budget-related decisions for the year to come. And as we know, our budget priorities and decisions end up reflecting our missional priorities. Budgets may appear to be merely pragmatic - even secular - but they are deeply spiritual processes and documents.

All of this being said, what an opportunity it is for us to frame all of these important year-end and beginning of the year decisions within the context of Christmas – the season of adoration and awe. I think adoration, awe, and gratitude go hand-in-hand. So before we launch into making big decisions as a parish - what if we first made the space to glorify and praise God for all that God has done and is continuing to do in our midst? What if we paused to simply be awestruck by God’s grace, mercy, love, and abundance? What if we joined the prophet Isaiah as we heard on our first reading today, and “greatly rejoice[ed] in the Lord, [and] with our whole being…exult[ed] in [our] God?” Isaiah goes on to say, “For as the earth brings forth its shoots, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up, so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring up before all the nations.” Let us take to heart the wisdom of the prophets, the psalmist, our hymn writers, and Evelynn Underhill. Let us sow seeds of adoration and awe towards God in song, prayer, and in our daily lives. And let us trust that spiritual and missional growth will follow.

If you were here for the 4th Sunday of Advent and if you were here yesterday, you will have noticed a great deal of emphasis on birth. Last Sunday we heard Matthew’s version of the birth of Jesus, and yesterday we heard Luke’s. Both involved Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus. Both tell us how God became incarnate – how God became enfleshed – as one of us…as a human being in the world. And both of these narratives are essential to the Christian story. Mark’s gospel was the first one written, and he chose not to include an infancy narrative for Jesus. Clearly Matthew and Luke felt like the story of God’s enfleshment – the  incarnation - needed to be included in the larger narrative. And aren’t you glad that they did?! It’s hard to imagine the Christian story without Mary, Joseph, the angels, the Magi, and the shepherds. But Mark told it without them, and as we heard today, so did John.

John wrote a good bit later than the other three, and he likely had access to some version of Mark’s, Matthew’s, and Luke’s telling of the story. And it appears that John wanted to make something clear that the others didn’t touch on. John wanted to make sure that we all know that the 2nd person of the Trinity existed before Jesus of Nazareth was born. God’s divine Word – God’s Logos – existed alongside God the Father and God the Holy Spirit from the very beginning – even before the world was created.

John very purposefully began his Gospel in the same way that the creation narrative in Genesis begins…with the words “In the beginning.” This “copy and paste” job by John was very intentional. John’s story doesn’t focus on a particular time, particular place, and particular people in the way that  Matthew’s and Luke’s do. John is taking us back to the very beginning, before the world was created, and making sure that we know that God’s divine Word was an active agent in creation, as well as all that has happened and all that will happen since then. John wanted to make sure that before humankind was invited to make room for Jesus, Jesus made room for humankind by creating us!

It might even sound a little callous or scandalous, but dare I say that God’s divine Word didn’t need to be born to exist. If Mary had said “no” to God, and if Joseph had said “no” to the angel in his dreams, the story indeed would have been different. But God’s divine Word would still exist.

So if this is the case, what’s the point of preaching on John’s cosmic gospel on Christmas Day if there is no birth narrative? After all, Christmas is about the celebration of the birth of Jesus, right?

I actually think that the prologue to John’s gospel does involve a birth narrative. It’s just not like Matthew’s and Luke’s. It doesn’t involve the mother Mary. And it doesn’t involve the baby Jesus. John almost casually includes the detail that “the Word became flesh and lived among us.” He doesn’t include how, where, or when. But there is still a conception, a pregnancy and a birth. It just so happens that we are the ones in whom and through whom Jesus is born. John says, “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.”

John is inviting us to receive Christ, and to believe in his name. And in doing so, the great mystery of Christmas is that it is we who are born on this day…not of the flesh, but of God. And every Christmas we are invited, like the mother Mary, to “ponder these things in our heart.” And in so doing, we can be born again each and every time we make room in our hearts and in our lives for Christ to dwell within us. It is we who are carrying and giving birth to the Good News of Jesus Christ in the world. And the great mystery of Christmas is that in so doing, it is we who are being born anew in Christ Jesus.

“The truth is, we all need a savior, because the world isn’t all that we know it can be. It wasn’t then, and it isn’t now… Life isn’t what we frequently pretend it to be; nor is the world. And that’s the whole point of Christmas.”

This penetrating observation from Brother James Koester strikes at the core of what it means to be a Christian. “The world isn’t all that we know it can be.” Isn’t that the truth?! Humanity simply hasn’t lived up to who and what we were created to be. The evidence is all around us. And throughout history, humankind has tried to take it upon ourselves to “fix” all that is wrong with the world. We have come up with various and sundry useful and not so useful movements of the human spirit and ingenuity. And while we have made great progress in many ways, the fact remains that the world still isn’t all that we know it can be. The fact remains, we still need a savior. No amount of “progress” - no political system or political leader, no weapon, and no scientific discovery will “fix” what has gone awry with humankind. Salvation and redemption for all of creation lies in God’s hands, not ours. And as scandalous and shocking as it seems, salvation and redemption for all of creation lies in a manger…a feeding trough in a stable.

Unfortunately, we don’t have the same sort of access to that feeding trough that the shepherds had that evening when Christ was born. We haven’t been visited by an angel, or serenaded by a multitude of the heavenly host. We can still travel to Bethlehem, but we can’t literally “see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us." We can’t go “with haste and [find] Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger.” That being said, we are still being called to the manger. We are still the shepherds in the night.

And like the shepherds, many of us are weary as we watch over our loved ones –our sheep just happen to be our aging parents, or our spouses, or our children. We grow weary as we long for health, safety, and peace in the midst of a violent and chaotic world. Like the shepherds, we have been waiting for a sign that will tell us that it will all be ok…that God is still in control. And tonight, we are blessed with the Good News that our waiting has not been in vain. God is Emmanuel…God is with us. And so, like the shepherds, we are being called to the manger to bear witness to the savior of the world…to see this thing that has taken place. And like Mary, we are called to ponder this scandalously Good News in our hearts.

One thing that I have noticed since last Sunday is that our gospel lessons have invited us go to deep within ourselves – and deep into our hearts. In the gospel reading on the 4th Sunday of Advent, the only way that Joseph could obey the Angel’s instructions was for him to listen with his heart, not his head. That is because what he was told by the angel defied all logic.

Every week at the beginning of  worship, we pray the Collect for Purity, which calls upon God to, “cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit…”. To be saved by Christ involves an internal scrubbing – a  “cleansing the thoughts of our hearts.” We must make room for the scandalous Good News of Christ in our hearts, even when our logical minds tell us that it can’t be so. Unlike so many in Bethlehem on the night that he was born, and unlike so many since that night, we must make room for Christ in the Inn. Mary made room. She accepted the unbelievable news in her heart that she was pregnant with the Messiah through the power of the Holy Spirit. Joseph made room. He accepted that same scandalous news in his heart, and he agreed to take Mary as his wife, name their baby Jesus, and raise him as his own. And the shepherds made room too. They accepted in their hearts the shocking news from the angel in the night that the savior they desperately needed – the savior they were waiting for – had come. And that savior was a helpless newborn baby lying in a feeding trough in a barn.

As James Koester says, “Life isn’t what we frequently pretend it to be; nor is the world. And that’s the whole point of Christmas.” In other words, Christmas reminds us that our savior came to the world - and will come again - on God’s terms, not ours. Christmas reminds us that salvation involves making room for Christ in our hearts and in our lives, just as Mary, Joseph, and the shepherds did.

So as we continually call upon God to purify our innermost selves, we are making room for Christ, so that he might abide in us. As we carry Christ within us – whether it be in a manger or a mansion -  we do so because we recognize that the world needs a savior. “The truth is, we need a savior, because the world isn’t all that we know it can be. It wasn’t then, and it isn’t now.” But it can be. And it will be.  We just have to make room for Christ in our hearts.

The Episcopal Church is like any other church in that we do certain things really well, and certain things…not so much.  So when you choose to attend or join an Episcopal Church, you must do so knowing that you are taking the good with the bad.  After all, no church, no matter how hard we try - can be all things to all people. 

One thing that the Episcopal Church is good at … is slogans.  Now I am glad to say that this isn’t the only thing that we are good at, thanks be to God.  But we do have a knack for thinking up clever slogans. The slogan with which most of us are familiar is “The Episcopal Church Welcomes You.”  And I find it ironic that while this is perhaps our most well-known slogan, it is the one that I think many of our parishes struggle to live up to the most.  The critique of many Episcopal Churches is that as beautiful as our buildings, liturgy, and music are, we oftentimes get accused of being a little stiff, cold, and even country-clubbish.  As it turns out, some Episcopalians aren’t as welcoming as our slogan says that we are.  But rather than change the slogan to more accurately reflect our shortcomings, I’m all for keeping the slogan and trying our best to live up to it.

There is one slogan that I have come across recently that rubs me the wrong way:  “The Episcopal Church: You Don’t Have to Leave Your Brain At The Door.”  

Keep in mind that this is not an official slogan from the national church, but rather, one that has been adopted by some individual parishes. 

The parishes that use this slogan are practicing a sort of targeted evangelism towards folks who want to be challenged intellectually, or folks who, for some reason or another, normally don’t associate church with deep thinking.  And it is true that there are a growing number of people who have either left church or never even gone to one because they have been led to believe that one can’t be a devout Christian and be in conversation with science; or they have been told that doubt is something that needs to be fixed; or they have been taught that the Christian scriptures and doctrines should only be taken at their literal, face value.  And more and more people these days are simply not willing to assent to leaving their brains at the door, so to speak.  They’d just assume stay at home and read the paper with their coffee and bagel. 

So I get it.  I get why some Episcopal Churches have chosen to reach out to people who are searching for meaning in their lives, but who don’t find meaning in simplistic theology and shallow thinking.  But is “You Don’t Have To Leave Your Brains At The Door” the best we can do?  Is that all that we have to say about ourselves…that we Episcopalians carry our brains with us wherever we go – even to church? 

For those of us who are here today - brains intact – what do we do with our gospel reading for the day?  How do we reconcile the news that Joseph received from an unnamed angel in his dream with what we know about how babies are made?  But thankfully for y’all, I am not interested in defending or re-interpreting the doctrine of the virgin birth this morning.  What I am interested in is how Joseph handled the news that was presented to him in today’s lesson.  On the night that the angel visited him in his dream, did Joseph leave his brain at the bedroom door before he went to bed?  Is that what allowed him to respond the way that he did?  Did Joseph’s ability to embrace rather than resist the unthinkable news delivered to him by the angel in his dream save Jesus and Mary’s life?

If Joseph had ignored the angel in his dream and continued with his original plan, the text tells us that he would have dismissed Mary quietly, so as to avoid a public disgrace.  If Joseph had chosen to quietly end his engagement to Mary, what would become of her - a single, pregnant teenager in first-century Palestine?  Would she still have been stoned to death for getting pregnant out of wedlock, even if Joseph and his family didn’t call for it?  After all, she had broken the law – a crime punishable by death.  If she had avoided execution, would her family have taken her in and cared for her and Jesus after he was born? 

Thankfully, these questions are curious “what ifs”, because in Matthew’s narrative of salvation history, Joseph listened to and believed the angel in his dream, even though it didn’t make a bit of sense.  Even though it was scientifically impossible.  Even though Joseph wouldn’t be the biological father of his wife’s child. 

Matthew’s version of the birth of Jesus is far less sentimental and much more “this is how it happened” than Luke’s.  Luke has always been a sentimental favorite, because in his version, we get a lot more of Mary, who quite frankly, is on the surface a lot more interesting than Joseph.  In Luke, we get the heart-warming visit of Mary to her pregnant cousin Elizabeth, and the lovely poetry of Mary’s song - the Magnificat.  In Luke, we get the nativity scene: baby Jesus lying in a manger, wrapped in swaddling cloths, surrounded by farm animals.  Just think, it weren’t for Luke, we wouldn’t have the Hail Mary pass in football, and our Christmas pageants and nativity scenes would be a lot less interesting without the livestock.

And while it cost him some style points, Matthew chose not to focus on Mary like Luke did.  But if we follow Matthew’s lead and allow Joseph to be the protagonist of the infancy narrative, while we may not have our hearts warmed in the same way, our hearts can still be warmed, because, as a matter of fact, Joseph was a man of the heart as much as he was a man of the head.  That’s right, Joseph left his brain at the door… thanks be to God!  And perhaps there are times that we could take a cue from Joseph and learn how to do the same.

You see, after the dream upon which salvation history stood, against what many would say is better judgment, Joseph listened to the unremarkable, unnamed angel and did two things: he married Mary, and he named their son Jesus.  This would have been considered scandalous, because he married a woman who was pregnant with someone else’s child; and not only did he agree to raise the child, he named the child Jesus, which means savior, or deliverer.  Imagine what the neighbors must have thought.

And what if it was this rather non-descript Joseph who taught his adopted son Jesus what it was like to follow your heart as much as your mind?  What if it was Joseph’s loving acceptance of the pregnant Mary that inspired Jesus later on in his life to accept the sinners and tax collectors that he encountered?  Once Jesus was old enough to understand how Joseph responded to the dream that night, don’t you think Jesus realized that his very life had depended on Joseph’s heart rather than Joseph’s mind?  How could Jesus, the beneficiary of such a faith, courage, and integrity be anything but a messiah who acted the same way?  When Jesus encountered the Samaritan woman at the well, or when he felt the tug on his garment from the woman who was bleeding, or when he was confronted by the demon-possessed Canaanite woman, is it possible that in these women, Jesus saw a glimpse of his own pregnant, teenage mother, whose life hung in the balance between law and grace?  Is it possible that the grace that Jesus showed them might have been something he learned from his earthly father Joseph early in life?  I wonder if one of the lessons Joseph taught Jesus was to listen to your heart, even if it doesn’t make a bit of sense.  It saved Mary’s life.  It saved Jesus’ life.  And it can save ours too. 

Slogans can be fun and they can be useful.  So let’s welcome people like we really mean it. And I don’t care if we leave our minds at the door or not. For some of us, that might be a good thing. For others, maybe not so good. But what we can learn from Joseph is that sometimes our brains need to be checked at the door. Or, if we just have to bring our brains in to church with us, as our collect for the day says, our conscience needs to be purified. Only then can we be free to receive the Good News that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. The Good News of the Advent season is not only that Christ has died, Christ is risen, and Christ will come again. The Good News is also that Christ was born. The Good News is that God is with us! Against all odds, Joseph believed. As the mystery of the incarnation draws near, let us follow the example of Joseph, and believe the unbelievable.  Amen.