Incarnation - putting it to life - violence or love

John 1:1-14

What’s the Word? Huh.

What word was with God?

In John’s storytelling — it was God.

It was — ‘gratuitous self-donation.’

It was self-giving.

It was what was 

before there was

rejection - violence - prejudice

accusation - condemnation.

The utter brilliance of 

John’s prologue

is that it does not let 

any power — speak first

any culture — set the norm

any ruler — dictate what is to be

any gods of the day — tickle our fancy.

It is as though John

will let — no other story own the day 

among those who say they 

follow Jesus.

It is as though John 

is setting us up — with this word 

that has no place to abide among us

and yet it does.

This Word becomes vitally alive

even though 

we want nothing to do with it

even though

we will not accept it or receive it

John is writing in a day

when violence was — the word. 

Some might even say it was — the way.

Some might say — the necessary evil.

Some might say — the rule.

In other words

it is like every other day - even today.

It is how we — become us 

and they — become them.

 John’s storytelling right from the beginning

sets before us 

a word that had been

the word of the day -  violence.

Think of it this way.

One child is in a room full of toys.

She is loving it — all is well.

Then, child #2 enters this room 

that is completely full of toys.

Where does child #2 head?

You got it — that one toy in the hands of child #1.

Ahhh, the desire — to have 

what is in the hands of another.

and then it meets

the desire — to keep what is in hand.

As a parent and a grandparent

I have seen it happen again and again.

The little buggers explode into 

 acts of violence - screaming - tantrums 

that I would never have expected 

from my child - my grandchild,

It may be a bit much to call it warfare.

It may be a bit much to call it violence.

I may be a bit much to give it any

consideration at all - they’re just kids, right?

But then again, 

Cain and Abel were brothers.

That - didn’t end well.

And the whole story line 

that makes up

 humanities storytelling since then

hasn’t gone well.

I would suggest that the gospel writer John

is handing everyone who reads

his version of the Christ story

an opening 

into a whole new life

that really has no witness 

since

God’s gratuitous self-donation - in the beginning.

In the beginning

was a love meant to be

the substance — the character

of God’s creative masterpiece — Humanity.

Hmmm.

But that love…that 

gratuitous self-donation

that 

light that shines in the darkness

that 

Word that became flesh

was…well…it was

voted off the island.

The gospel writer John follows up this 

Prelude to his Gospel 

with a storyline

in which self-giving love

has no place

in a world

that is always trying to preserve

a fundamental principle

of human society:

us verses them.

Within the vision of John’s gospel

that he received 

through coming to grips with the life and death of Jesus

he finds there is a love 

that will never abide by

us verses them

no matter who the US is 

no matter who the THEM is.

Therefore, we will see in John’s writing

the story of Jesus

[ presented also by Matthew, Mark, and Luke ]

that the world ( now - get this )

did not know — did not accept.

We look back at this Word of Love

and wonder 

how could they not see it - know it - accept it.

Well, that goes back to who

the Creator is:

gratuitous self-giving

A love that gives

without condition

without meeting goals

without being nice or when we are naughty.

Yikes - that’s sheer foolishness.

Isn’t it?

As we sit in the season of the birth 

of the Christ of God - the Word of God

the love of God translated into everyday human life,

I have a suggestion.

The National Alliance on Mental Illness ( NAMI )

has put out a commercial this year.

It shows a reflective Santa

sitting on the roof of a house

distraught and embarrassed and ashamed

about his participation in over a 1000 years of 

labeling people as either

naughty or nice.

Well, consider this — was

Jesus the — son of God

Jesus the — incarnation of God

Jesus the — Word of Love made flesh

who lived

within — the daily likes of the world

within — the cultural norms of the world

within — the values of his people

within — the fundamental principles of society 

considered naughty?

Was he?

Well…it all depends on the lens you wear.

If he is seen as one who would dare to

unveil the violence of the world

violence that is too often covered over - 

violence that is even condoned

with words like:

kids will be kids

family before others

those folk are not like us

they are all to be avoided

we have to think of ourselves first

then

yes, Jesus was as naughty 

as one can be.

If — he is seen as one led by

the Holy Spirit - the Spirit of Truth

the Paraclete 

(that is translated as the Defender of the Accused )

who

always placed himself among and alongside 

the rejected - the expelled - the convicted

the ones society counts as less or no one

then

yes, Jesus was as naughty 

as one can be.

AND YET,

 for us — he is the Savior

for us — he is God in the flesh

for us — he is the life of God’s eternal Reign

walking around 

as though

it was — and is — and will be

the life that is meant for us all.  

And yes, 

according to the four gospels,

Jesus was naughty

for he did not - would not

go along with 

the word of violence

that works so well in the world

but has no place

in the life of Jesus

and 

the life of Jesus’ followers.

Let me end with this story.

There was a King - a powerful King.

His ego was big. His heart was small.

He was ruled by fear - He ruled by violence.

In what is designated as the gospel for 

this First Sunday after Christmas,

this King 

( we know him as Herod )

was so afraid 

that one day 

his family would lose their place

as the power and authority of the day

this King became for us

the incarnation - the embodiment

of the violence of our fear-filled world.

And the Word of Love

had to flee into exile until it would grow into 

the Jesus

who as one person notes

becomes the love that 

puts up no resistance to violence

in order that 

this Word of Love - this God in the flesh

becomes another way for us

to live in a broken and violent world.

And the Word became flesh and lived among us,

and we have seen his glory the glory of a father’s only son, 

full of grace and truth.  

AMEN

Hope holds the whole world in its arms

The Nativity of our Lord. If you are not a follower of Jesus, this may mean nothing - that's fine. And yet, what I will say about that bit of storytelling may still resonate.

Hope holds the whole world in its arms. The nativity of our Lord is about incarnation. It is about an inclusive embrace that extends beyond anything I would consider embracing. If and when you see someone and you make up the notion that they do not fit in or belong or look they way you look or act the way you act - you have no connection to the hope of the incarnation. Oh, there is still hope. The incarnation is a hope-filled creation in which even a rejection of its creativity cannot prevail over the hopefulness intended in its earthy and cosmic expression. We cannot diminish hope. It will carry us, without partiality, into a life where people open doors, invite others in, and share their bounty or their scarcity. In many of my days, I am not hope-filled. I am self- absorbed. It is easy to be when all I need do to have things my way is to simple turn my back - walk away - make judgements. Oh how I long to be filled with the hopefulness of the vision of our faithful storytelling that enters into poverty and violent systems and homelessness and fear in order to touch us no matter where we find ourselves.

Hope holds the whole world in its arms. Those are not big strong arms. Those are the arms of a mother who takes a risk and then continues to risk her life and her babe's life by raising him within that embrace of hope - even when it will be bring about what appears to be the end of him. Such hope is life offered to the least and shines in front of those who appear to be the biggest and best. To be born into the stream of the hopefulness of creation is not something out of the ordinary. In fact, within the storytelling of the incarnation, we are handed nothing more than the ordinary. This is where hope springs eternal - makes itself know - gives vision - lasts beyond our own lives - demonstrates the ongoing nature of creation. In the arms of that peasant woman and that man who would become her husband there is promise that cannot be realized without being realized in each and every ordinary day.

Hope holds the whole world in its arms. When we see the incarnation in such a light - a light that bids us to come into the unfolding glory of the hopefulness of creation - the crazy notion of making these days at the end of December and the beginning of January into a place of a warfare of words is strange. When we live in this hope, those folks become our folks. The differences we long to keep in place lose their glitter and we begin to see those differences as odd and unnecessary. The lines we are usually able to draw so well and make so definitive - hold no power - have no control. Hope lifts up our eyes to see the glorious mountaintops and drops our eyes to see the rich valleys. In the meantime, we do not miss the amazing splendor of the ordinary of the day that is too often that which we look past. Hope sees and holds the baby. Hope sees and hold the wounded. Hope sees and holds the forgotten. Hope sees and holds the abused. Hope sees and holds those previously overlooked and ignored. And then, hope uses all those lives as the palate of hope's creativity in order to paint us into a new world.

Hope hold the whole world in its arms. Celebrate the hopefulness of the ordinary that challenges us to be utterly creative for the well-being of all. Hope is looking for a manger into which the future might take shape. We are invited to hold that wonder-filled life as if it is our own.
TRRR

Imagine That

Imagine a powerful person being frightened of the most vulnerable. Imagine people so full of themselves they are unable to feel the plight of others - especially those of meager estate. Imagine people so wealthy they get anything they want - whatever it is - no matter what it may cost - even if the cost comes at the expense of others. Imagine someone whose pronouncements, whether they dribble from their mouth or are placed upon a page, were enough to ruin the lives of individuals or malign - to the point of complete rejection - a group in their disfavor. Imagine people so afraid of the power of these people that they would do anything to stay within the good graces of their daily whims. Imagine that

Imagination need not be about that which is not. Imagination is not about fantasy. Fantasy is fantasy. Imagination is not magic. Magic is magic. Imagination invites us to live with eyes wide open to that which is and thus, that which may come to be. Unfortunately, imagination can be a part of the most evil acts of our humanity. Imagination is also the springboard into great benevolence. Imagination provides vision for acts of destruction. Imagination ignites wonderful creativity. Imagination is able to raise the dead. Imagination is able to drag people to the grave. Imagination takes us beyond the events of the day that attempt to keep us just as we are. Imagination creates and shapes how our days will unfold. Imagine that.

Imagine Mary, who becomes the mother of Jesus. In one gospel she is approached by Gabriel - an angel. Imagine that. Imagine a peasant young woman whose life will be that of a peasant - whose family and friends will never be more than the peasants they are. Imagine this peasant girl being told by this angel that she was to be the mother of a new king - whose reign will be anointed by the Most High God who was at the very heart of the life of her community. Imagine this peasant girl as she pauses to take in this extraordinary event. Now, imagine if she said to Gabriel - I think not. Imagine the power of choice in that moment. Imagination helps us make choices - it is how we take ourselves into a new place. And yet, no matter what the choice, life comes out of that choice. What will that life be - how will it be shaped - what will come of it? Imagine Mary attempting to imagine something other than the world of poverty as she knew it. Imagine that.

Imagine the poor being lifted up. Imagine the rich bending down to lift up the poor. Imagine terror that drives powerless people to foreign places- even places known for oppression - yet they go. Imagine mercy extended within a world that is so easily ruled by mercilessness. Imagine strength appearing as a bended knee that positions people to serve even though they were once raised to break the backs of others. Imagine a vile world encountering the imaginative life of unbounded reconciliation and healing. Imagine enough - enough food for the hungry - enough room for those without a room at the inn - enough compassion to let no one go. Imagine those without - being considered and treated as guests to a dinner. Imagine parents like Mary and Joseph who see the world as it is and yet they nurture the imagination of their child so this one will risk losing life to make life new. Imagine that.

Imagine being more afraid of today than open to what might be.  Imagine having enough - maybe even a little extra - yet feeling the need to gripe about not having more. Imagine what it might be like to be someone who is nurtured to live in fear of others. Imagine a child who has seen parents and elders point at and speak about and put down those people over there. Imagine not being able to see the power of privilege that comes with the color of ones skin, the neighborhood one was raised in, the schools one attended, the access to generational wealth - and therefore casting down the lowly. Imagine having the power to shape the world as you want it and walking past the rest of it. Imagine the luxury of not caring what happens over there. Imagine that.

I find the incarnation to be all about imagination. I find the incarnation to be a wake up call. I find the incarnation to be that statement - that phrase - that joke - that voice - that cry - that plea - that light - that turns my head to see beyond my own world. I find the incarnation in a stable of any kind in any place to be how I am pulled out of my place and must imagine life within the simplicity of the ordinary. Within the ordinary, being there - taking time to see it - being graced to feel it - marveling at its texture - stumbling over its mess, comes the gift of peace that promises to wrap us up as a gift to the world that tyrants and evil powers and foolish people cannot  dismantle. Imagination that knows not the bounds of a creativity for the well-being of all, unveils a life in which death in all its many shapes and sounds does not rule us.  Imagine that.
TRRR

Tis the Season - upper case or lower case G

This is not merely a seasonally specific rant. It just so happens that this season tends to tickle me a bit more than other seasons. That tickle becomes more and more like an annoying itch when folks attempt to dress themselves in a perverse piety that longs for God to be present and yet there is an unwillingness to allow that presence to be manifest among us. From what I hear, the only way God is to be present is in the way folks want - or shall I say demand - that presence.

For me we are no different from many of the biblical stories in which faithful people had to deal with their own unfaithfulness as they attempted to make something divine out of their own likes and loves and wants and desires. I irreverently call this the g-spot. It is and eternal conundrum among those who call themselves faithful. We convince ourselves that we are faithful to the one, true God only to turn to that which we can own and use to promote or bring pleasure to our lives as we want them. Thus, we turn our backs to this God we say we praise and trust and make for ourselves gods whose image we create. Being created in God's image is thus lost among us.

So, the story for me is one of upper and lower case images. One is the God whose image is to become the shape of our lives. The other is the god whose image is one we shape to fit our lives. This is no new insight. Read the book of Judges. It is a comedy of Oh God we long for you to save us - they are rescued - they fall for the gods of the day - they get betrayed by their gods - they cry out Oh God...again and again and again.  Faithfulness becomes tribal - faithfulness becomes convenient - faithfulness becomes the pull to be nothing more than who we want. Therefore, all of us have to be on the watch for the gods that we long to have lead us and guide us. Unfortunately, too often we are all suckers for the sweet taste of self-love - a golden calf - a partisan promise - a time in the past - a stock market surge - a magical ride to a better place. Falling in love with the gods of our lives makes for both great comedy and tragedy. When we see they are only gods and then laugh at ourselves for falling for them, we understand the power and wisdom of comedy. When we long to keep them as our gods it is a bitter tragedy that will drive folks to destroy those who are able to laugh at the gods we make.

More and more when I hear folks take about putting God back into - schools or Christmas or the country or those folks over there - all I see and hear is the little g - the lower case g. Part of that has to do with my understanding of the eternal presence of God - always present - always with us - always bidding us to come and reflect the joy of God's eternal Reign. This God has never been removed from any place or time. But, the gods-of-the-day that we work so hard to keep in place often fall to the side and fail us. So, what are we looking for.

Are we sure we want the God of the Scriptures to be present among us so as to come alive in that image or are we simply so consumed by our personal wants we will settle for any god that ultimately will make us die from our self-consumption. Do you want God back in Christmas? Then for Christ's sake look again at the character of God in the flesh. Christ is not missing - we are missing the Christ. Do you want God in the schools? Then we must stay aware of the gods of the day that will teach us to love ourselves - our kind - our own - more than those others. Do you want God in politics/government? Then get ready to let go of the systems that let so many of God's beloved be dismissed and disenfranchised and devoured so that we can establish our own gods to rule our lives. Do you want God in your heart? Then learn how to spot how slavishly folks run after the gods of their liking and laugh. Yes, learn to laugh at the foolishness of our self-concern and self-consumption. When we can see those gods among us, our hearts will be filled with that promised joy. Joy of our God - for every season.
TRRR

When a Post Becomes Disgusting

There are so many ways to poke fun at the politics of the day. It is even easier to poke fun at some of the politicians who are in the middle of the politics of the day. Much of this is the kind of stuff that fills the posts on Facebook. I don't like some of the posts. I find some of them to be foolish and completely out of place. Yet, I read them. More and more, there are a number of people who must spend their day posting many times a day. These usually involve the placement of memes that are meant to attract attention. Most often, they are met with the usual emojis to show a like or various degrees of dislike or strong feelings. For me, those visual comments give a feel for the thoughts and feelings circulating in the air. There are also written comments that show agreement - expand on a topic - display disagreements - and even point followers to additional information. I find that some of this can be a positive aspect of posts. I know I post quite a few photos of pieces of art in museums - but then I also often use the picture to say things the painting was never meant to say. Most of it is meant as political or social humor. And yes, I receive a spectrum of emoji comments. That fine.

Today I need to rant about the responses made to memes in which the comments are used to degrade the character of people simply because of who those people are. Sometimes they add nothing to the stream of conversation. It may just be a complete insult - a smear - a bigoted display of fear or hate. The comment that finally pushed be into a rant position was when one person referred to Pete Buttigieg as being a 'pee pee toucher.' There was no stream that was headed that way - it just came out as a display of the kind of ignorance and intolerance of others that can turn very ugly, dirty, violent, and demonic. I place such a comment on line with someone who uses a disgusting term to refer to people of color or people of other faiths. It has no place. It shows us how how far people will go to trigger the fear, hatred, bias, and ignorance that too often sets people against one another. This kind of comment does not fall into the category of humor. It is the kind of remark that would make a venue remove someone from the stage.

This doesn't mean we cannot poke fun. I remember when Clinton used 'deplorable' during the 2016 election. In my view, she was the deplorable one - and people went back and forth about that. Trump seemed to be a self-proclaimed pussy grabber. No one would have said it if he hadn't used it himself. So let the humor carry on. I have said many times that I really appreciate editorial cartoonist who are able to make us all look like stooges at times. Yes, they can be biting and they can piss people off, but never do good satirist or cartoonists or even political pundits disparage or degrade other people for their sexual orientation, ethnic background, religion, or race. When folks begin to slam others or take them down because of who they are, we are seeing the violence of a culture being put on display. No one needs to be physically touched - the words of disgust or ignorance or fear become the triggers that open up the door to actual violence toward others. There is much history to back that up. First the words fly - then fists - then.

If we see something in another person and we are alarmed or offended by what seems to be the character of that person or group, it is proper to point it out. For example, I will read something about Christian leaders who appear to back people and actions that I would never associate with being a follower of Jesus. Yet, I also know that my actions or words may solicit a similar view of my comments. We can then argue about those points - disagree - agree - change our thoughts. But when a person from a minority group is diminished by others for simply being who they are, I think we must more quickly and more purposefully disagree. But I must also say that as part of a majority group that has a long history of being in a position of power, I really find it hard to listen to people make blanket statements about 'gray haired, older, white men. I'm usually not bothered by it unless the statement is meant to be definitive of who I am or meant to degrade or attempt to not give me a voice in the room - simply because of some parts of my identity.

Our task, in my opinion, is to never cease to see with gracious and open eyes - those we would be tempted to disparage - those we fear - those who look and sound different from our own folk - those for whom we have no contact or never have met - those upon whom we can throw labels in an attempt to diminish them. The high ground is really not a place above others - it is the ground we share with those at whom we think it would be so easy to throw stones. It is when we stand alongside - them.
TRRR

Bullet holes in walls in Bosnia - are you afraid

Please allow me to rant through storytelling. It is about guns - so hold on to your firearms of preference. This is a story that I have shared in portion on Facebook and used in part in the Welcome to Worship this last weekend of what seemed to be endless bloodshed in the land of the free and the home of the brave.

It was back on our last full day staying in a small village outside of Dubrovnik, Croatia. Karen and I decided that we wanted to take one last adventure before we headed out of town. We hired a driver from a company we used several times in Croatia. We were both amazed at the story of where he lived and how he lives away from this wife and child as he earned a wage to support them. He was a really good guy who was very willing to address himself to some of our basic and often tourist-like questions.

Our destination was to be Mostar, Bosnia-Herzgovina. He suggested to additional side trips to small scenic spots not too far off the beaten path we were taking. Mostar is a quaint small town. The  arching walking bridge over the river that divides the town is one of the most picturesque scenes we encountered on that vacation. It was also a scenic wonder to me because as we approached the town, the minarets from a dozen mosques dotted the skyline and there was one lone church steeple. Quite a change from the cities and towns of Ohio.

Mostar was also known as being a place that was part of the battlefield of the Balkan war in the early 1990s. As we prepped for the day trip, we read about the fighting that went on there and how many bullet holes could still be seen dotting a number of buildings in the town. One source noted that many of those holes were turned into parts of graffiti art. This was once a divided town but now was a symbol of people with differences living together in peace.

Well, as we were driving to Mostar we asked our driver about his family and he asked us about the United States. He told us some of the tensions that still exist between Croatians, Bosnians, and Serbs. Quite enlightening. Then - we may have come to a light or an open expanse of road - he asked us if we were afraid. Karen and I were confused for a second and Karen said something like,
"You mean afraid to be in Bosnia?" He said, "No. To live in the United States with all the guns."
Wow. Here we were passing road signs of the towns that are infamously associated with bloodshed and genocide and he is asking if we are afraid to live in the United States. He was not merely referring to a story he may have heard. He really knew the statistics about guns and death by guns and military type weapons that anyone can own.

In a bit of shock, we tried to tell him that we were not afraid - but we agreed that there are so many guns out and about that if you only heard the about the number of guns in the hands and homes of Americans, it should sound frightening to anyone. Yet, there in that van we were once again hearing a story we had heard quite often on our latest trips to Europe in the last two years. The image of the U.S. is becoming more and more deflated. And worst of all, it comes as a great disappointment to people 'over there.'  The old term Ugly American that was heard often  in Europe during the months I was in England in the early 70's has intensified. Now, it is not merely about how we carry ourselves and know only one language and have a lack of understanding of other cultures. Now, it refers to a culture of violence and hatred and an inability to live within a diverse population - in peace. Our young driver sounded sad and discouraged about who we were becoming. It was as though we were a beacon - a light - that had gone dim.

Unfortunately, as we all know, as a nation we will not work on us. We are too busy trying to fix the blame for all that is wrong on someone out there. Even though we are not made secure by the number of guns we have or the availability of guns, our lust for more is growing as we whip up the fear among us. And, others in the world see that in us. They see a country allowing fear to cause the brave and the free to fire away at will.

By the way, we found a small artisan who was making metal plates in his little shop. We went into to watch him work and yes, we bought stuff. But here is what really hit us. He had turned empty casing of large caliber bullets and mortars into pieces of art. I thought: to hell with letting death rule us and make fools of us by worshipping the weapons that enflame a warring madness among us. Here was an artist who understood the reality of a population - a homeland - being devastated by violence. He may not be an artist who turns swords into plowshares, but he knows how to turn bullets into vessels of beauty and life. I say, unleash the artists and the people of grand imagination and let them lead us out of the grip of death we seem to love so dearly.
TRRR