01 January 2007

New Year's Eve Sermon

I thought the sermon I preached on New Year's Eve was pretty good, so I thought I'd share it here. I preached it from the pulpit at Church of the Ascension in Ontonagon at the 10am service, and then preached it agin, largely from memory (though holding my notes in my lap!) at Explore on Sunday night.

Also, I read Sarey's sermon posted on her LJ, and thought it was even better - wish I'd written it. Here is the link to her sermon:
Dragons, Dracula, and Darth Vader.

Text for the Day: John 1:1-18
We are in the midst of the twelve days of Christmas, so the folks who fashioned the lectionary that we use to determine our weekly readings chose to focus on stories of Jesus’ origins. On Christmas Eve, we heard Luke’s version of the story of Jesus’ nativity, replete with angels and shepherds, and, of course, a baby in a manger. John’s version of this same story is much more cosmic. Jesus is the logos, the word and wisdom of God, who has been with God since “The Beginning.”

For John, that’s the same beginning that we hear about in Genesis… In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. And it was the logos, the sophia, that gave voice to God’s creating power. That word mediated the creative power of God, created with God, and continues to be a source of life and light, a beacon of hope in and for the world.

That Logos, John tells us, eventually took on flesh and came to dwell among us. In the biblical Greek, the word for flesh is sarx; it’s an earthy word. This is not some ethereal body we’re talking about here, this is physical flesh and blood. And the biblical Greek word skayno, here translated as dwell, can also be translated as tent among. The first century Jews, upon hearing this, would remember that the tabernacle of the covenant traveled with the Israelites in a tent during their time in the desert.

In the Episcopal church, we have an Incarnational-God-With-Us-Emmanuel theology, and it takes its roots right here in the poetic language of John.

John also tells us that the logos is the light for the people, shining in the darkness.

Right at the moment, when I look at the world we live in, I feel like we could use a little light. There’s civil war in Sudan and Somalia. Deadly natural disasters in Southeast Asia and Texas. Corruption in the ongoing Katrina recovery efforts. Saddam Hussein executed for his vicious crimes against humanity; the news of his execution greeted with celebration and dancing in the streets. Church fights about biblical interpretation, orthodoxy, and who belongs. It’s grim.

But grimness is not, in fact, all that there is. There is light in the world, if we have eyes to see it. John tells us that there were those who did not recognize the light, the logos.

During the time that I managed the bookstore, a book came out called Pay it Forward. It was one of those lovely mind-candy books that doesn’t have a ton of substance, but spent time on the bestseller lists. It was a feel-good book that left me in tears at the end – my favourite kind of reading experience, really. And then it got made into a movie.

The basic plot is that a social studies teacher assigns his middle school class a project: to do something to change the world, for extra credit. One twelve year old boy in the class comes up with the idea of Paying Forward. The idea is that if someone does you a favour, you don’t pay them back, you pay the favour forward. And you don’t pay it forward once, you pay it forward three times. It doesn’t have to be a huge thing, it just has to be an unexpected kindness. Helping someone else who is in need. And, you don’t do it just once. For each kindness done for you, you pay forward three times. So that one person does a nice thing for three people, who each do a nice thing for three people, so that nine people then pay forward to twenty-seven…. You get the idea.

John tells us that the logos came to shed light on places of darkness and that the darkness could not overcome the light. This true light, John tells us, will enlighten everyone. I particularly like the translation that comes from the Jesus’ seminar’s book calledThe Five Gospels: “Genuine light – the kind that provides light for everyone - was coming into the world.”

Darkness is not a bad thing; I love darkness. In fact, one of the things I grew weary of when I lived in Northern Virginia was that it’s never truly dark. I love being on the beach in Ontonagon, late at night, when the only light comes from the stars, and it’s really truly dark. But sometimes, you need to see. A tree fell on power lines near my house several months ago, and for several hours it was really really dark. I lit a candle and the effect was immediate. Darkness dispelled.

I heard about a story on NPR this week about a girl named Hallie Geier. Hallie was almost twelve when she was struck and killed by an SUV near her house. Shortly after her death, her parents found her journal, in which she’d written, “People – be nice to each other. Love, Hallie.”

Her family discovered that she had saved nearly $400 from her daily lunch money to help children with HIV/AIDS in Africa. Her parents created a foundation called Love Hallie to continue the work their daughter had been passionate about. They learned of the Agape Orphanage in South Africa where all the children were AIDS orphans. Some of them recorded a CD to raise funds to improve their facility, but before the work could be done, the orphanage burned to the ground in an electrical fire.

Love, Hallie brought ten of these children to New York, where they performed in concerts, and made connections in the music industry. They have raised enough money to rebuild their orphanage. In the spirit of the Love Hallie foundation, these AIDS orphans in South Africa donated 10% of their raised funds to help with ongoing reconstruction after Hurricane Katrina. One girl’s generosity created a circle of caring and compassion that brought light and life to a variety of places in the world.

During Advent, some of the women from St. John’s Church in Iron River made preemie hats. On the first Sunday of Advent, I talked about the MDGs in my sermon there, and encouraged people to support the goals. I talked about financial support, and then I talked about other ways to support the goals. As one example of a non-monetary project, I showed them the wee baby hat I was knitting to send to Save the Children to help combat infant mortality in developing countries. At coffee hour, several women asked for hat patterns. We all knitted – in meetings, watching movies, in the car, whenever we could. And yesterday, I mailed off a box of sixty-seven hats to Save the Children. Sixty-seven babies in Bangladesh and Malawi now have an increased chance at life. Sixty-seven little lights shining in the darkness.

The logos is the light shining in the world. But so are we. In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus tells those who would follow him: YOU are the light of the world. And he gave lots of examples of how to be that light. Love God. Love Neighbor. Feed. Clothe. Visit. Care. Have a party and don’t invite those who can return the favour, invite those who cannot.

The amazing thing about our Incarnational Theology is that Jesus’ coming into the world empowers each of us to become partners with the logos in light-bearing. We are the light of the world. We can bring light by paying forward kindnesses received, feeding those who are hungry, sharing what we have, telling the story of the Good News of the logos.

You are the light of the world. Go shine.

1 comment:

Wayfarer said...

I loved this sermon, Fran! It was especially affirming to see your reference to Pay It Forward. I can’t tell you why, but it’s been on my mind quite a bit of late.

Shaolin practice has a similar notion, but the number of forward pays is set at ten, not three. Either way, this practice serves to remind us of some very important truths. First, compassion need not be the privilege of someone else; we, all of us, are capable of it. Second, the expression of compassion need not seem substantial to us. It’s not about us. It’s about (lest we forget the definition of compassion) the other person. Third, and this is the incredible thing, compassion need not be scary.

One of the things that often prevents us from being compassionate is the feeling that we’re somehow putting ourselves at risk by doing so. Yet, if we can realize that this fear is an illusion, that the other person also suffers from it, then we can be free of it. If we can be free of our fear then, like lifting the bushel off a lamp, we begin to shine from the release of it, and others can see that. I think about the people I have met in my life who are free of fear, and how they emanate an indescribable sense of tranquility. It feels good just to be around them and paying it forward is one way, a simple way, that we can feel that way.

Thank you for helping me to start the year by thinking about such a beautiful and simple idea!