Rejoice!
Sermon
Between Gloom and Glory
First Lesson Sermons For Advent/Christmas/Epiphany
There was a woman who was frantically trying to complete her shopping on the morning of Christmas Eve. Sometime around noon, she checked all of the names off of her list, and headed for home. On the way to her house it came to her that she had not sent a single Christmas card. She turned the car around and rushed back to the mall. In the card shop, she found two boxes of cards left on the shelves. She felt lucky to find them because they were fairly attractive. After she arrived home she wrote notes on all of the cards, addressed the envelopes, drove to the post office, and mailed off 39 cards just in time.
When she got back home she noticed a left over card on the kitchen table. She realized that she hadn't even bothered to read the message. She opened the card and to her horror read, "Here's a little card to let you know that something special is on the way to you today."
There was no rejoicing in her home!
The printed words on those cards were not the familiar kind of Christmas text that she was expecting to find. Our reading, the text from Isaiah, has been made famous by Handel's Messiah. It is what we expect to hear. We could probably sing it without even looking at the words. The poetry is as familiar to us at this time of year as anything else we might read or hear. Even people who have never set foot in a church have heard the words "Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, the Everlasting Father" playing on someone's sound system somewhere.
What is it about this text that draws us to its majesty year after year? What is at work in the prophet's thought? How is it that our imaginations are captured every year through these ancient words?
One of the things these words do during this season is draw us together for worship. I read a sermon once in which the minister reminded them that many of them were there because they believe.1 Many of you are here tonight for this Christmas Eve service because you believe. You are faithful followers of Jesus, the child born in Bethlehem. You have come on this evening to celebrate the birth of your Lord and Savior. You are here because you have faith in God and this service. These words from Isaiah confirm the faith you have brought to this place on this night.
Others of you are here tonight because you once believed and you would like to believe again. You have a nostalgic pang for the "good old days." Some part of those old days are remembered when you attend worship, especially a service held on Christmas Eve. The familiar hymns and carols, the burning candles, the eager faces of children, all serve as reminders of a time in the past when everything seemed right in the world. So you have come on this night to reawaken old memories, to rekindle old flames. You may even sense an emptiness in your lives, and you have come here hoping against hope that you may be able to be filled again with the spirit of God.
There are others here tonight who have come simply because it is important for you to be here with family and friends and share in this moment. You do not believe and you really don't hope to find belief, but you have come anyway because you respect the traditions of your loved ones. Their faith is not yours, but you want to honor it, and their love for you, by being here with them. For you this night is special, too, but for different reasons than the others we have mentioned.
The stories and the poetry of this night belong to everyone, believers, doubters and unbelievers alike. To a certain degree, each of us could tell our own versions of the story. Each of us could share how this celebration has been a part of our lives. Surely some would say that this is the single most important night of their faith practice. Others could recount painful stories of how the church has hurt them. We might even hear tales of bad theology and the terrible ways it has been used by unscrupulous preachers or church leaders to gain power over their congregations.
To one degree or another, though, we are all here on this night in search of wholeness, a wholeness that we do not seem to be able to find in any other areas of our lives. Believers and unbelievers, faithful followers and fearful doubters, in other words, all of us, at some point in our lives, want to feel complete, whole. So on this night of nights each of us has come to pause in the darkness and see if the light is shining, to see if the light is able to lead us out of the darkness of fear and sadness.
The contrasting images of darkness and light set the tone for the prophet's words. The image of darkness is a metaphor for death. The New English Bible makes this clear. Verse 2 in this translation reads, "Dwellers in a land as dark as death." Light is the symbol of life and joy. Verse 3 then makes it clear that these who have lived in the land of death have now received new life, new joy. The old ways are gone and the new ways have taken over. This opening passage is an announcement of the end of gloomy anguish. It points to a new beginning, a new way of living, a new way of understanding ourselves within the boundaries of creation.
My friend Joe knows about living in the land of death. Joe spent three different terms in prison. The interesting part of his story is found in the fact that at the time he was living there he really wasn't aware of it. I suppose on some level he must have known but he swears that when he was living the type of life that eventually caused him to end up in jail he had no idea that he was surrounded by the darkness of death. The light came on during his third visit to prison. He was there after being convicted on a number of charges. I don't know the legal terms for all of them, but since they involved weapons, assault, and drug dealing, we can probably imagine why he was there. His life was so full of substance abuse and violence that he has said to me, "You can't really imagine what my life was like before you met me here at the church."
He's probably right. He said the light came on during the first night of his third stay in prison. At bed time he laid down on his bunk and thought, "You know, this ain't too bad. I've got clean clothes, clean sheets, and they feed me three meals a day. All of this at no charge. This is okay." He said he lay there for a moment or two letting that thought sink in when all of a sudden he sat straight up and said out loud, to the other side of the cell, "NO." He doesn't know why exactly. He thinks God may have had something to do with it, but somehow he saw what had become of his life. He saw who he was becoming. He saw a person living in the darkness of death who had no clue that he was in danger of losing his life. He is married now and working as a counselor at a drug rehabilitation center. He is attending classes part-time at a seminary, too. He is not sure that he'll become a minister, but he wants to explore that area of his life and see if that is a direction he wants to travel. Joe rejoices with the dawn of each new day.
Joe thinks it was God who revealed this to him. You and I can't be too sure about that. Or can we? Tonight, on Christmas Eve, Joe will celebrate with his wife and children around their tree. They will open gifts and sing a carol or two. At some point, probably quietly with no one else but his wife, Joe will celebrate nine years of sobriety. He is planning a big party for next year when he celebrates the ten-year anniversary of the day the light shined in the darkness of his life.
This is the type of scene being described by Isaiah. It is the report of deliverance from trouble, the destruction of the tools of war, and the birth of an extraordinary child. It is all things being made new again. It is a sermon telling of the promise of God to rescue us from oppression, no matter what the form. It is the promise of a child, a special child. One who, in the future, will "establish and uphold justice." He will bring an "endless peace."
Is this not the message of Christmas? Isn't this what the Gospel writers are proclaiming when they announce the birth of Jesus? John writes of the Word which was in the beginning; Paul speaks of the one born of woman, born under the law. They are saying to us that God's promise, the one reported by Isaiah, is being made real again through the person of Jesus Christ. Isaiah's poetry and preaching were delivered to a specific people who were in need of the gift of light. In spite of all the centuries between him and us, despite all of the theological and technological changes, we still need to see the light. This word is still one which needs to be proclaimed.
The Gospel writers are simply saying, the child is here. This is the one. Through him the whole world will rejoice.
Rejoice. That word is a summary of Isaiah's writings in chapter nine. It is a summary of what my friend Joe does every morning when he wakes up within the freedom of his new life. It is the word sung by the Church for centuries celebrating the news that Christ is born.
We rejoice at the new possibilities being born on this night. We celebrate the new life that is being offered to the world through this Messiah.
I need to confess something to you tonight. I have a hard time grasping and understanding all that this story is about. I am not sure I can really get to the heart of it all, let alone explain it or proclaim it to you. I am not sure I can, as the really hip people say, wrap my brain around it. There is an apocryphal story going around about the great theologian Paul Tillich. The story, maybe we should say legend, goes that Professor Tillich was in the middle of a lecture on the authority of the Bible when a young seminarian stood up and began to question him. While firmly grasping a black, leather-bound copy of the Bible, the student practically shouted, "Do you believe this is the word of God or not?" Tillich looked up from his lecture notes and seeing the student's hand firmly gripping the Bible said, "Not if you think you can grasp it!"
This night is less about explanation and more about proclamation. We may not be able to understand it fully, but we can still tell about it. It is the announcement that somehow, in some way, "The people who lived in a land of deep darkness -- on them light has shined." I can't prove it to you any more than my friend Joe could, but if we open our eyes and lift our heads we just might hear the angels sing.
____________
1. God In Flesh, Made Manifest: Sermons For Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany, Mark Radecke (Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Co., 1995), p. 27.
When she got back home she noticed a left over card on the kitchen table. She realized that she hadn't even bothered to read the message. She opened the card and to her horror read, "Here's a little card to let you know that something special is on the way to you today."
There was no rejoicing in her home!
The printed words on those cards were not the familiar kind of Christmas text that she was expecting to find. Our reading, the text from Isaiah, has been made famous by Handel's Messiah. It is what we expect to hear. We could probably sing it without even looking at the words. The poetry is as familiar to us at this time of year as anything else we might read or hear. Even people who have never set foot in a church have heard the words "Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, the Everlasting Father" playing on someone's sound system somewhere.
What is it about this text that draws us to its majesty year after year? What is at work in the prophet's thought? How is it that our imaginations are captured every year through these ancient words?
One of the things these words do during this season is draw us together for worship. I read a sermon once in which the minister reminded them that many of them were there because they believe.1 Many of you are here tonight for this Christmas Eve service because you believe. You are faithful followers of Jesus, the child born in Bethlehem. You have come on this evening to celebrate the birth of your Lord and Savior. You are here because you have faith in God and this service. These words from Isaiah confirm the faith you have brought to this place on this night.
Others of you are here tonight because you once believed and you would like to believe again. You have a nostalgic pang for the "good old days." Some part of those old days are remembered when you attend worship, especially a service held on Christmas Eve. The familiar hymns and carols, the burning candles, the eager faces of children, all serve as reminders of a time in the past when everything seemed right in the world. So you have come on this night to reawaken old memories, to rekindle old flames. You may even sense an emptiness in your lives, and you have come here hoping against hope that you may be able to be filled again with the spirit of God.
There are others here tonight who have come simply because it is important for you to be here with family and friends and share in this moment. You do not believe and you really don't hope to find belief, but you have come anyway because you respect the traditions of your loved ones. Their faith is not yours, but you want to honor it, and their love for you, by being here with them. For you this night is special, too, but for different reasons than the others we have mentioned.
The stories and the poetry of this night belong to everyone, believers, doubters and unbelievers alike. To a certain degree, each of us could tell our own versions of the story. Each of us could share how this celebration has been a part of our lives. Surely some would say that this is the single most important night of their faith practice. Others could recount painful stories of how the church has hurt them. We might even hear tales of bad theology and the terrible ways it has been used by unscrupulous preachers or church leaders to gain power over their congregations.
To one degree or another, though, we are all here on this night in search of wholeness, a wholeness that we do not seem to be able to find in any other areas of our lives. Believers and unbelievers, faithful followers and fearful doubters, in other words, all of us, at some point in our lives, want to feel complete, whole. So on this night of nights each of us has come to pause in the darkness and see if the light is shining, to see if the light is able to lead us out of the darkness of fear and sadness.
The contrasting images of darkness and light set the tone for the prophet's words. The image of darkness is a metaphor for death. The New English Bible makes this clear. Verse 2 in this translation reads, "Dwellers in a land as dark as death." Light is the symbol of life and joy. Verse 3 then makes it clear that these who have lived in the land of death have now received new life, new joy. The old ways are gone and the new ways have taken over. This opening passage is an announcement of the end of gloomy anguish. It points to a new beginning, a new way of living, a new way of understanding ourselves within the boundaries of creation.
My friend Joe knows about living in the land of death. Joe spent three different terms in prison. The interesting part of his story is found in the fact that at the time he was living there he really wasn't aware of it. I suppose on some level he must have known but he swears that when he was living the type of life that eventually caused him to end up in jail he had no idea that he was surrounded by the darkness of death. The light came on during his third visit to prison. He was there after being convicted on a number of charges. I don't know the legal terms for all of them, but since they involved weapons, assault, and drug dealing, we can probably imagine why he was there. His life was so full of substance abuse and violence that he has said to me, "You can't really imagine what my life was like before you met me here at the church."
He's probably right. He said the light came on during the first night of his third stay in prison. At bed time he laid down on his bunk and thought, "You know, this ain't too bad. I've got clean clothes, clean sheets, and they feed me three meals a day. All of this at no charge. This is okay." He said he lay there for a moment or two letting that thought sink in when all of a sudden he sat straight up and said out loud, to the other side of the cell, "NO." He doesn't know why exactly. He thinks God may have had something to do with it, but somehow he saw what had become of his life. He saw who he was becoming. He saw a person living in the darkness of death who had no clue that he was in danger of losing his life. He is married now and working as a counselor at a drug rehabilitation center. He is attending classes part-time at a seminary, too. He is not sure that he'll become a minister, but he wants to explore that area of his life and see if that is a direction he wants to travel. Joe rejoices with the dawn of each new day.
Joe thinks it was God who revealed this to him. You and I can't be too sure about that. Or can we? Tonight, on Christmas Eve, Joe will celebrate with his wife and children around their tree. They will open gifts and sing a carol or two. At some point, probably quietly with no one else but his wife, Joe will celebrate nine years of sobriety. He is planning a big party for next year when he celebrates the ten-year anniversary of the day the light shined in the darkness of his life.
This is the type of scene being described by Isaiah. It is the report of deliverance from trouble, the destruction of the tools of war, and the birth of an extraordinary child. It is all things being made new again. It is a sermon telling of the promise of God to rescue us from oppression, no matter what the form. It is the promise of a child, a special child. One who, in the future, will "establish and uphold justice." He will bring an "endless peace."
Is this not the message of Christmas? Isn't this what the Gospel writers are proclaiming when they announce the birth of Jesus? John writes of the Word which was in the beginning; Paul speaks of the one born of woman, born under the law. They are saying to us that God's promise, the one reported by Isaiah, is being made real again through the person of Jesus Christ. Isaiah's poetry and preaching were delivered to a specific people who were in need of the gift of light. In spite of all the centuries between him and us, despite all of the theological and technological changes, we still need to see the light. This word is still one which needs to be proclaimed.
The Gospel writers are simply saying, the child is here. This is the one. Through him the whole world will rejoice.
Rejoice. That word is a summary of Isaiah's writings in chapter nine. It is a summary of what my friend Joe does every morning when he wakes up within the freedom of his new life. It is the word sung by the Church for centuries celebrating the news that Christ is born.
We rejoice at the new possibilities being born on this night. We celebrate the new life that is being offered to the world through this Messiah.
I need to confess something to you tonight. I have a hard time grasping and understanding all that this story is about. I am not sure I can really get to the heart of it all, let alone explain it or proclaim it to you. I am not sure I can, as the really hip people say, wrap my brain around it. There is an apocryphal story going around about the great theologian Paul Tillich. The story, maybe we should say legend, goes that Professor Tillich was in the middle of a lecture on the authority of the Bible when a young seminarian stood up and began to question him. While firmly grasping a black, leather-bound copy of the Bible, the student practically shouted, "Do you believe this is the word of God or not?" Tillich looked up from his lecture notes and seeing the student's hand firmly gripping the Bible said, "Not if you think you can grasp it!"
This night is less about explanation and more about proclamation. We may not be able to understand it fully, but we can still tell about it. It is the announcement that somehow, in some way, "The people who lived in a land of deep darkness -- on them light has shined." I can't prove it to you any more than my friend Joe could, but if we open our eyes and lift our heads we just might hear the angels sing.
____________
1. God In Flesh, Made Manifest: Sermons For Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany, Mark Radecke (Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Co., 1995), p. 27.

