“Cacophony of Praise”
Psalm 148
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 28 December, 2008
First Sunday after Christmas
----
 I was recently asked what my favorite image of God is in the Bible. I thought for a moment and then answered, “The image of God as Creator.” I don’t know if I love this image because I believe so strongly in environmental causes or if I am an environmentalist because I believe so strongly in a Creator God (I believe in evolution too, but that’s another sermon for another day). In any case, I cannot but give thanks to God when I witness a particularly beautiful scene in nature. In the same bent, I cannot but feel heartbroken when I see nature being destroyed.
Thus, when I read our Psalm for this morning my heart veritably sang with recognition. The Psalmist calls upon the sun and moon to praise the Lord, and then: “Praise the Lord from the earth, you sea monsters and all deeps, fire and hail, snow and frost, stormy wind fulfilling his command! Mountains and all hills, fruit trees and all cedars! Wild animals and all cattle, creeping things and flying birds! Kings of the earth and all peoples, princes and all rulers of the earth! Young men and women alike, old and young together! Let them praise the name of the Lord, for his name alone is exalted; his glory is above earth and heaven.”
I can imagine all these members of God’s Creation praising God in their unique ways. The sea monsters -- whales, for example -- would praise God through their whale song. Wild animals would praise God through the unique noises they make. Cattle would praise God by mooing joyfully. Creeping things would praise God by, well, whatever way they would. Birds of the air would praise God by soaring to the heavens or singing beautifully. Fruit trees and cedars would praise God by striving to get the best sunlight and the best nutrients. Men and women would praise God through song and dance. I imagine all of God’s Creation praising God at once, making a deafening sound that somehow was beautiful and did not bother other species, because it was done as an act of praise.
Although this Psalm was written long before Jesus was born, I can imagine all Creation engaging in these simultaneous songs of praise as Christ is brought into the world. “Joy to the world, the Lord is come!” They would fall silent immediately thereafter so as not to disturb the newborn infant who, like any child, needed sleep. Then all of God’s Creation would find silent, but still beautiful ways of praising God for the birth of the Christ child. Some of our Christmas carols describe the animals in the manger “bowing down before him,” and I imagine all of Creation doing so. “Silent night, holy night.” For this one magical night the lion and the lamb would lay down together, with no desire to destroy the other, yet no hunger gnawing at them.
On this first Sunday after Christmas, when Christians are still well-ensconced in the Christmas season, I have not yet let go of the peacefulness of Christmas Eve. I still feel the hope that seems to open like a flower on Christmas Eve, the light coming back into the world after a dark year. I still feel that things will be better this year, and I connect this to Christ Jesus being born in us again on Christmas Eve -- just as he is year after year. I am still praising the Lord softly with all Creation, and I feel a peace I have not felt in some time.
But, of course, not all of Creation is at peace. We still have violence and poverty and sickness and heartbreak. The son of family friends of ours was found dead a few weeks ago. I imagine his parents are not praising God as vociferously as I am. There are those among you who are having a difficult time. To you, these songs of praise may seem to exist for the sole purpose of tormenting you. “How can anyone -- wild animal or human -- praise God when I feel like this?!” Or you may feel guilty for begrudging anyone their joyous celebration. “I know I should be praising God. I am wrong not to join in the songs of praise. I am wrong to shrink away from the babe in the manger.” You get so tangled up in your guilt that you join in the songs of praise even as your heart breaks -- you sound more joyful than anyone else in the room. You will praise God, even if it tears you apart to do so.
But listen. In this morning’s Psalm the whole of God’s Creation is singing songs of praise. The entire Christian world is singing “Joy to the world!” Don’t you think these songs of praise will still be beautiful, even if you can’t participate this year? We are called to praise God, and your voice will be missed. But God forgives those who do not join in songs of praise when their hearts are breaking. Indeed, there is nothing to forgive. Would God begrudge a bird with a broken wing if it did not fly in a beautiful formation? Just so, God simply reaches out to comfort those among God’s Creation who cannot join in the celebrations.
Much of God’s Creation is limping -- facing extinction, suffering the effects of pollution, losing the only place it has called home. God is only too aware that survival needs to be at the top of the list for these creatures, and they may not be able to join in the dance around the manger this year.
The rest of us, however, are called to pick up the slack by joining together in praising the Lord. We have just been given the incarnation of God in the world, the Christ child, Emmanuel, God-with-us. Let us praise God! And let us do so not only with our cacophony of voices, but by caring for God’s Creation. Let us praise the Lord by caring for our sisters and brothers who are hurting. Let us praise the Lord by fighting against pollution and fighting for conservation. Let us praise the Lord by reducing, reusing, and recycling. Let us praise the Lord by doing all that we can to make sure that God’s Creation is here another year.
What better way can we praise the Lord than by making sure the sea monsters, and wild animals, and creeping things, and birds of the air, and cedars, and fruit trees, and women, and men are here to celebrate another Christmas? What better way can we celebrate God’s incarnation into the world than by making sure the world is still here next year to celebrate?
May those of you with aching hearts find comfort in the familiar words of scripture. God embraces you as you are silent this year. God loves each one of us no matter who we are or where we are on life’s journey. But may those rest of us who are able praise God with our songs and with our actions. Now let us pray.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Friday, December 26, 2008
A Meditation on the Light - Xmas Eve 2008
“A Meditation on the Light”
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Christmas Eve 2008
----
 This has been a dark year. There seems to be some kind of a gloom hanging over our world. I overheard a man say the other day that there is some sort of a national depression, and he wasn’t talking just about the economy. We are in our sixth year of war with Iraq, we face violence in our own city, we see corruption in politics -- and yes, there’s the economy. More people are hungry or homeless than have been in a long time. Our prayer list at church never lacks for names -- we all know someone who is sick or hurting, or we are sick or hurting ourselves. We are worried about umpteen things. A spark of hope arose for many after election day, but by December we were in the doldrums again. I have witnessed more aching hearts in the past year than I had seen in a long time.
Amidst this malaise, we have been busy. We have been caring for loved ones, or working hard not to lose our jobs, or looking for new jobs. We may have to try even harder than usual to provide for our needs and the needs of our families, but we are trying. And we’re tired. We’re tired and aching and it’s dark.
...But wait! Here in this darkness, where hope seems elusive, a tiny light begins to glow. Just a pinprick of light. ...Do you see it? It is the light of the star over Bethlehem. As we sit here in the peacefulness of this church the light begins to glow a little brighter, until we can make out the shape of a tiny infant lying in a manger. He’s an ordinary newborn, red-faced and wrinkly. But there is nothing ordinary about a newborn. And this tiny baby, who we can just make out by the light of the star, will be the hope of the world. He will be the Savior we so desperately need.
This is not to say that our broken hearts will mend tomorrow or that our broken world will be made whole with the snap of his tiny fingers. But as Christians we believe that Jesus is the Light of the world. May his birth tonight -- the birth of Emmanuel, God-With-Us -- bring light back into our world. May this Christmas be the beginning of a hopeful year, a light-filled year, a year of strength and joy, where pain becomes secondary in our lives. May our hearts begin to open tonight, to let in the light of that extraordinary baby in a manger. May his new life bring new life to our world.
Now, as we bathe in the light of Christ, let us pray.
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Christmas Eve 2008
----
 This has been a dark year. There seems to be some kind of a gloom hanging over our world. I overheard a man say the other day that there is some sort of a national depression, and he wasn’t talking just about the economy. We are in our sixth year of war with Iraq, we face violence in our own city, we see corruption in politics -- and yes, there’s the economy. More people are hungry or homeless than have been in a long time. Our prayer list at church never lacks for names -- we all know someone who is sick or hurting, or we are sick or hurting ourselves. We are worried about umpteen things. A spark of hope arose for many after election day, but by December we were in the doldrums again. I have witnessed more aching hearts in the past year than I had seen in a long time.
Amidst this malaise, we have been busy. We have been caring for loved ones, or working hard not to lose our jobs, or looking for new jobs. We may have to try even harder than usual to provide for our needs and the needs of our families, but we are trying. And we’re tired. We’re tired and aching and it’s dark.
...But wait! Here in this darkness, where hope seems elusive, a tiny light begins to glow. Just a pinprick of light. ...Do you see it? It is the light of the star over Bethlehem. As we sit here in the peacefulness of this church the light begins to glow a little brighter, until we can make out the shape of a tiny infant lying in a manger. He’s an ordinary newborn, red-faced and wrinkly. But there is nothing ordinary about a newborn. And this tiny baby, who we can just make out by the light of the star, will be the hope of the world. He will be the Savior we so desperately need.
This is not to say that our broken hearts will mend tomorrow or that our broken world will be made whole with the snap of his tiny fingers. But as Christians we believe that Jesus is the Light of the world. May his birth tonight -- the birth of Emmanuel, God-With-Us -- bring light back into our world. May this Christmas be the beginning of a hopeful year, a light-filled year, a year of strength and joy, where pain becomes secondary in our lives. May our hearts begin to open tonight, to let in the light of that extraordinary baby in a manger. May his new life bring new life to our world.
Now, as we bathe in the light of Christ, let us pray.
Sermon 12/21/08 (Luke 1+26-38)
“Holiday Interruptions”
Luke 1:26-38
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 21 December, 2008
Fourth Sunday of Advent
----
 ‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
All the creatures were stirring -- even the mouse!
There’d been parties and baking and gifts wrapped with care
Even some scripture -- look, Angel Gabriel there!
The children, they listened, to a story known well
The household was cozy, the holidays swell
When out from the street there seeped in such a sadness
They all ran to the window: “What is this madness?!”
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of midday to objects below
When what to their wondering eyes should appear
But a man, clearly homeless, huddled in fear
He was dressed all in rags, from his head to his foot
And his clothes were all tarnished with dirt and with soot
His every belonging was tied up in a bag
His household had made for his shoulders to sag
He had a sadness about him -- seemed heartbroken, really
It was Christmas Eve, after all, wonder what he is feeling
To be on the street, without home, in the cold
It’s enough to make anybody feel old
And as for that family, what on earth were they thinking?
“He’s homeless and dirty -- surely he must be drinking!
How dare this sad soul bring interruption so rude
To our festivities now -- out there begging for food!
It’s Christmas -- time to talk about Jesus and Mary
This man on the street -- he’s just downright scary!”
The man began walking away, as if he had heard them
So they went back to their story -- the manger in Bethlehem
But they heard him say softly as he walked out of sight
“Jesus was homeless too on that first Christmas night.”
Here we are, just a few days before Christmas, and I feel a bit like a chicken with my head cut off. I’ve been really busy, and I’m behind on everything -- Christmas cards, gift-buying, decorating. A lot of people I’ve talked to are running late this year. I don’t know if it’s the economy, or the fact that Thanksgiving was late, or what. All I know is that life is hectic.
Everything is hectic and festive all at once. All I really want to do this morning is sing a Christmas carol or two and daydream about the Angel Gabriel announcing to Mary that she is going to have a baby. All I want to do tonight is sit in my warm house and write the last of my Christmas cards while listening to Christmas music. I just want to think about my loved ones -- most of whom are safe and warm in their own houses -- and imagine the Virgin Mary feeling happy and excited that God chose her. Instead, I am lifting up prayers for the homeless this morning, and tonight I plan to go out in the cold to the Homeless Persons Memorial Service at the Inner Harbor.
It seems like a rude interruption. Why are we bringing this up now?! Why do we have to talk about homelessness the Sunday before Christmas? Why couldn’t this wait until, you know, drab January or something?
The reason this can’t wait is because homelessness doesn’t end just because it’s Christmas. And homelessness certainly doesn’t end just because it’s wet and cold outside. The Homeless Persons Memorial Service is held tonight, in part, because it is the longest night of the year, the Winter Solstice. Most of us can barely begin to imagine what it is like to be on streets, alone, in the middle of the night, night after night. It’s dark and it’s cold and it’s lonely and it’s frightening. But nearly 8,000 people in Maryland are homeless. As many as 3.5 million people in the United States experience homelessness in a given year (and the number tends to increase during economic crises).
Homelessness is an interruption. It is an interruption in the realm of God for which we strive. It is an interruption in the otherwise productive lives of human beings. It is an interruption in the care of people who could find happiness and health if they had a home and effective resources. And God has every right to interrupt the lives of those of us who have a home, if such interruption will get us to reach out to those who are desperately in need.
God has a habit of interrupting humankind for good reasons. Indeed, one such interruption came to a young girl named Mary about two thousand years ago. She was going about her business -- a young girl, probably around the age of 13 or 14, preparing for her marriage to a man named Joseph. This was not a good time to get pregnant. This was not a good time for any big interruption -- she had a lot on her plate already. But God had other plans for her. When God sent the Angel Gabriel to announce what God had planned for Mary, God changed the course of Mary’s life, and the course of history. Would any of us begrudge God that interruption, knowing what we know now?
During what remains of this “holiday season” let us welcome the meaningful interruptions that come our way. By taking time out from our festivities tonight to focus on a solemn reality in our city, we will be witnessing to the Truth of the Gospel. By allowing a young child to interrupt our busyness with her childlike wonder, we will be opening our hearts to the mystery of this season. By leaving the party early and going home to read the timeless Bible story, we will be reminding ourselves of the birth of One who turned the world upside down and made it right. May God open our hearts to such holy interruptions.
Now let us pray.
Luke 1:26-38
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 21 December, 2008
Fourth Sunday of Advent
----
 ‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
All the creatures were stirring -- even the mouse!
There’d been parties and baking and gifts wrapped with care
Even some scripture -- look, Angel Gabriel there!
The children, they listened, to a story known well
The household was cozy, the holidays swell
When out from the street there seeped in such a sadness
They all ran to the window: “What is this madness?!”
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of midday to objects below
When what to their wondering eyes should appear
But a man, clearly homeless, huddled in fear
He was dressed all in rags, from his head to his foot
And his clothes were all tarnished with dirt and with soot
His every belonging was tied up in a bag
His household had made for his shoulders to sag
He had a sadness about him -- seemed heartbroken, really
It was Christmas Eve, after all, wonder what he is feeling
To be on the street, without home, in the cold
It’s enough to make anybody feel old
And as for that family, what on earth were they thinking?
“He’s homeless and dirty -- surely he must be drinking!
How dare this sad soul bring interruption so rude
To our festivities now -- out there begging for food!
It’s Christmas -- time to talk about Jesus and Mary
This man on the street -- he’s just downright scary!”
The man began walking away, as if he had heard them
So they went back to their story -- the manger in Bethlehem
But they heard him say softly as he walked out of sight
“Jesus was homeless too on that first Christmas night.”
Here we are, just a few days before Christmas, and I feel a bit like a chicken with my head cut off. I’ve been really busy, and I’m behind on everything -- Christmas cards, gift-buying, decorating. A lot of people I’ve talked to are running late this year. I don’t know if it’s the economy, or the fact that Thanksgiving was late, or what. All I know is that life is hectic.
Everything is hectic and festive all at once. All I really want to do this morning is sing a Christmas carol or two and daydream about the Angel Gabriel announcing to Mary that she is going to have a baby. All I want to do tonight is sit in my warm house and write the last of my Christmas cards while listening to Christmas music. I just want to think about my loved ones -- most of whom are safe and warm in their own houses -- and imagine the Virgin Mary feeling happy and excited that God chose her. Instead, I am lifting up prayers for the homeless this morning, and tonight I plan to go out in the cold to the Homeless Persons Memorial Service at the Inner Harbor.
It seems like a rude interruption. Why are we bringing this up now?! Why do we have to talk about homelessness the Sunday before Christmas? Why couldn’t this wait until, you know, drab January or something?
The reason this can’t wait is because homelessness doesn’t end just because it’s Christmas. And homelessness certainly doesn’t end just because it’s wet and cold outside. The Homeless Persons Memorial Service is held tonight, in part, because it is the longest night of the year, the Winter Solstice. Most of us can barely begin to imagine what it is like to be on streets, alone, in the middle of the night, night after night. It’s dark and it’s cold and it’s lonely and it’s frightening. But nearly 8,000 people in Maryland are homeless. As many as 3.5 million people in the United States experience homelessness in a given year (and the number tends to increase during economic crises).
Homelessness is an interruption. It is an interruption in the realm of God for which we strive. It is an interruption in the otherwise productive lives of human beings. It is an interruption in the care of people who could find happiness and health if they had a home and effective resources. And God has every right to interrupt the lives of those of us who have a home, if such interruption will get us to reach out to those who are desperately in need.
God has a habit of interrupting humankind for good reasons. Indeed, one such interruption came to a young girl named Mary about two thousand years ago. She was going about her business -- a young girl, probably around the age of 13 or 14, preparing for her marriage to a man named Joseph. This was not a good time to get pregnant. This was not a good time for any big interruption -- she had a lot on her plate already. But God had other plans for her. When God sent the Angel Gabriel to announce what God had planned for Mary, God changed the course of Mary’s life, and the course of history. Would any of us begrudge God that interruption, knowing what we know now?
During what remains of this “holiday season” let us welcome the meaningful interruptions that come our way. By taking time out from our festivities tonight to focus on a solemn reality in our city, we will be witnessing to the Truth of the Gospel. By allowing a young child to interrupt our busyness with her childlike wonder, we will be opening our hearts to the mystery of this season. By leaving the party early and going home to read the timeless Bible story, we will be reminding ourselves of the birth of One who turned the world upside down and made it right. May God open our hearts to such holy interruptions.
Now let us pray.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Sermon 12/14/08 (John 1:6-8, 19-28)
Third Sunday of Advent
John 1:6-8, 19-28
Sunday, 14 December, 2008
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
----
 Who can tell me what a witness does? ... A witness gives a detailed description of something that they have seen, or of something that they know. These days, the word “witness” probably first conjures up the image of a courtroom and a person being interviewed by lawyers. Indeed, when I did an Internet search for the word “witness” most of the results had to do with courtroom drama.
But, of course, there are other types of witnesses. If I asked you what a “witness” is in a religious context, you might immediately think of the “Jehovah’s Witnesses.” The Jehovah’s Witnesses religious group named themselves after a line from the Book of Isaiah: “You are my witnesses, is the utterance of Jehovah...” And now we’re more on track with this morning’s use of the word. A witness can be someone who believes something so deeply that they simply have to share it with the world. In the words of this morning’s Gospel: “There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light.”
John had the singular opportunity of knowing the Light of the World before it even came into the world. He knew the Truth in his heart so deeply that he simply had to tell everyone around him. Indeed, God had sent him to do just that. We who sit here today are in a somewhat different position. Jesus already came into the world once. We have a book filled with stories about his birth, his life, his death, and his resurrection. It would seem that we have nothing in common with John the Baptist, who showed up before Jesus was born. We cannot “witness to the light” in the same way that John did. But in fact we have quite a bit in common with John the Baptist. Like him, we have been called to testify to the Light that is Jesus the Christ.
What does it mean to “witness to the light” in our context? It means that we are called to share what we know about Jesus Christ with those around us. During the season of Advent, we talk about Christ coming back into the world, and this is a good time for witness. During Advent we might have more people in church than we usually do, and we can share with them what we know about Jesus. This does not necessarily mean telling people the specifics -- that Jesus was born in Bethlehem, that he was a rabbi from a young age, that he traveled around to this city and that, and where exactly he died on the cross and reappeared to those who loved him. “Witnessing to the Light” has more to do with sharing the kind of love that Jesus preached -- love for the poor, the oppressed, the enemy.
It’s fairly easy to do this when we’re in church. We can show visitors the love of Christ through the way we worship, the hymns we sing, the way we treat one another and the visitors themselves. But we are not just called to witness inside the walls of a church sanctuary on Sunday mornings. John the Baptist witnessed to the light wherever he went, and we are called to do the same thing.
This does not mean that we have to go around telling people, “You should believe in Jesus or else”! This is not helpful, especially in our culture, and I do not believe it is an expression of the real Truth of the Gospel. But we can witness to the truth of the gospel by living that truth -- by loving our neighbors as ourselves, thereby setting an example of the kind of love Jesus preached. This is when witnessing gets more difficult. Witnessing to the light means truly loving the most troublesome people among us. In the words of what is actually a great rap song by Kanye West, Jesus walks “with the hustlers, killers, murderers, drug dealers, even the strippers.” If we are going to witness to the true light that is Jesus Christ, then we need to reach out in love to those kinds of people. This means realizing that the most despised people in our society are creatures of God...children of God. As you know, I have a pen-friend who is in prison. It is easy to reach out to him, because he comes across as very pleasant and is very strong in his own faith -- we talk about God a lot. But truly witnessing to the light of Christ means knowing that even the worst criminal who will never come across as pleasant or faithful is, in fact, loved by God. It also means realizing that, while God may judge us for our actions in this world (while still truly loving us), we humans are not supposed to get involved in the judging part, just the loving.
In an economy like this one, it seems like poverty carries less of a stigma -- which is a good thing -- and reaching out to people in need has become “the thing to do.” But in order to truly be witness to the light we need to help those in need not because it’s popular and not even because we know we could be in the same place. We need to do it because we know something so wonderful about Jesus, and that he has called us to do so.
Advent is a good time to do some of this witnessing. Opportunities are all around us -- giving Christmas baskets, for example, or getting a gift for a man at Earl’s Place. But Advent is also a good time to prepare for the witnessing that we have been called to do the rest of the year. Witnessing to the truth of the Gospel -- witnessing to the love of Christ -- is not a once-a-year job. It is something that God calls us to do 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year, with every breath we take. It’s tough stuff. Loving the greatest enemies among us -- yes, even terrorists -- takes a lot of work and a lot of prayer. Even as we carry out acts of witness during this Advent season, this contemplative time in the life of the church is a good opportunity to gird ourselves for the hard work we will do the rest of the year. Take extra time to pray for those less fortunate, and include among them those human beings who are in prison. This is a very difficult time to be behind bars, even if you’re the worst person on earth. When you sing “Peace on earth, good will to all,” remember that all really does mean every human being -- or it least it would have to the Messiah for whom we are witnessing. Take time to breathe in and realize how much God loves you -- often we’re better at loving the rest of the world than we are at remembering that we are included among those whom God loves. And remember that John the Baptist was not the only one who witnessed to the light. You are called to witness too.
Now let us pray.
John 1:6-8, 19-28
Sunday, 14 December, 2008
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
----
 Who can tell me what a witness does? ... A witness gives a detailed description of something that they have seen, or of something that they know. These days, the word “witness” probably first conjures up the image of a courtroom and a person being interviewed by lawyers. Indeed, when I did an Internet search for the word “witness” most of the results had to do with courtroom drama.
But, of course, there are other types of witnesses. If I asked you what a “witness” is in a religious context, you might immediately think of the “Jehovah’s Witnesses.” The Jehovah’s Witnesses religious group named themselves after a line from the Book of Isaiah: “You are my witnesses, is the utterance of Jehovah...” And now we’re more on track with this morning’s use of the word. A witness can be someone who believes something so deeply that they simply have to share it with the world. In the words of this morning’s Gospel: “There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light.”
John had the singular opportunity of knowing the Light of the World before it even came into the world. He knew the Truth in his heart so deeply that he simply had to tell everyone around him. Indeed, God had sent him to do just that. We who sit here today are in a somewhat different position. Jesus already came into the world once. We have a book filled with stories about his birth, his life, his death, and his resurrection. It would seem that we have nothing in common with John the Baptist, who showed up before Jesus was born. We cannot “witness to the light” in the same way that John did. But in fact we have quite a bit in common with John the Baptist. Like him, we have been called to testify to the Light that is Jesus the Christ.
What does it mean to “witness to the light” in our context? It means that we are called to share what we know about Jesus Christ with those around us. During the season of Advent, we talk about Christ coming back into the world, and this is a good time for witness. During Advent we might have more people in church than we usually do, and we can share with them what we know about Jesus. This does not necessarily mean telling people the specifics -- that Jesus was born in Bethlehem, that he was a rabbi from a young age, that he traveled around to this city and that, and where exactly he died on the cross and reappeared to those who loved him. “Witnessing to the Light” has more to do with sharing the kind of love that Jesus preached -- love for the poor, the oppressed, the enemy.
It’s fairly easy to do this when we’re in church. We can show visitors the love of Christ through the way we worship, the hymns we sing, the way we treat one another and the visitors themselves. But we are not just called to witness inside the walls of a church sanctuary on Sunday mornings. John the Baptist witnessed to the light wherever he went, and we are called to do the same thing.
This does not mean that we have to go around telling people, “You should believe in Jesus or else”! This is not helpful, especially in our culture, and I do not believe it is an expression of the real Truth of the Gospel. But we can witness to the truth of the gospel by living that truth -- by loving our neighbors as ourselves, thereby setting an example of the kind of love Jesus preached. This is when witnessing gets more difficult. Witnessing to the light means truly loving the most troublesome people among us. In the words of what is actually a great rap song by Kanye West, Jesus walks “with the hustlers, killers, murderers, drug dealers, even the strippers.” If we are going to witness to the true light that is Jesus Christ, then we need to reach out in love to those kinds of people. This means realizing that the most despised people in our society are creatures of God...children of God. As you know, I have a pen-friend who is in prison. It is easy to reach out to him, because he comes across as very pleasant and is very strong in his own faith -- we talk about God a lot. But truly witnessing to the light of Christ means knowing that even the worst criminal who will never come across as pleasant or faithful is, in fact, loved by God. It also means realizing that, while God may judge us for our actions in this world (while still truly loving us), we humans are not supposed to get involved in the judging part, just the loving.
In an economy like this one, it seems like poverty carries less of a stigma -- which is a good thing -- and reaching out to people in need has become “the thing to do.” But in order to truly be witness to the light we need to help those in need not because it’s popular and not even because we know we could be in the same place. We need to do it because we know something so wonderful about Jesus, and that he has called us to do so.
Advent is a good time to do some of this witnessing. Opportunities are all around us -- giving Christmas baskets, for example, or getting a gift for a man at Earl’s Place. But Advent is also a good time to prepare for the witnessing that we have been called to do the rest of the year. Witnessing to the truth of the Gospel -- witnessing to the love of Christ -- is not a once-a-year job. It is something that God calls us to do 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year, with every breath we take. It’s tough stuff. Loving the greatest enemies among us -- yes, even terrorists -- takes a lot of work and a lot of prayer. Even as we carry out acts of witness during this Advent season, this contemplative time in the life of the church is a good opportunity to gird ourselves for the hard work we will do the rest of the year. Take extra time to pray for those less fortunate, and include among them those human beings who are in prison. This is a very difficult time to be behind bars, even if you’re the worst person on earth. When you sing “Peace on earth, good will to all,” remember that all really does mean every human being -- or it least it would have to the Messiah for whom we are witnessing. Take time to breathe in and realize how much God loves you -- often we’re better at loving the rest of the world than we are at remembering that we are included among those whom God loves. And remember that John the Baptist was not the only one who witnessed to the light. You are called to witness too.
Now let us pray.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
