Joel D. Kline
January 4, 2004
Highland Avenue Church of the Brethren
The Second Sunday after Christmas
In the apostle Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians he refers to the ministry he and his fellow apostles hold within the church as a calling to be “servants of Christ and stewards of God’s mysteries” (1 Corinthians 4:1). Four times in this morning’s lesson from Ephesians Paul refers to the mystery of Christ’s gospel. When you and I hear the word mystery we are prone to think of mystery movies or mystery novels, stories with a crime that needs solving or a puzzle to be deciphered. But when the apostle speaks of mystery, he is not referring to a dilemma we are to unravel, but rather to a life perspective we are to embrace—a way of living centered in God’s remarkable gift of Jesus Christ.
We have so romanticized the Christmas story that it is difficult for us to grasp just how indifferent much of the world was to Christ’s coming, and how hostile were those few governing authorities who caught wind of the birth of Jesus. In Matthew’s Gospel we read the story of the threatened Herod, infuriated that a competing king may well have been born, therefore ordering the murder of all infants two years or younger. The response, Matthew tells us, is akin to the weeping in Jerusalem in the days following the holy city’s destruction, when much of the population was being deported to Babylon. Matthew quotes from the prophet Jeremiah, “A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they were no more” (Jeremiah 31:15, quoted in Matthew 2:18).
When the Israelites envisioned a coming Christ or Messiah in the days surrounding the birth of Jesus, they anticipated one who would set things aright by destroying enemies. Contrary to the Christmas card image of the birth of Jesus occurring in an idyllic time, complete with a layer of fresh snow, the truth is that Jesus was born into a world of deep and hostile division, a world characterized by discord and violence. And the surprising mystery that unfolds with the birth of Jesus in that kind of world is that God’s love is for all people. God’s love extends, not just to the victims of that day’s injustice, but to all manner of people—to the insiders and to the outcast, to the oppressed and to the oppressor, to Jew and to Roman. Ephesians 3 has Paul writing:
For surely you have already heard of the commission of God’s grace that was given to me, and how the mystery was made known to me by revelation … In former generations this mystery was not made known to humankind, as it has now been revealed to God’s holy apostles and prophets by the Spirit: that is, the Gentiles have become fellow heirs, members of the same body, and sharers in the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel (Ephesians 3:2-3, 5-6).
In The Message Eugene Peterson paraphrases Paul’s words about the mystery of Christ this way:
The mystery is that people who have never heard of God and those who have heard of God all their lives … stand on the same ground before God. They get the same offer, the same help, the same promises in Christ Jesus. The message is accessible and welcoming to everyone, across the board.
This is my life work: helping people understand and respond to this Message. It came as a sheer gift to me, a real surprise … (3:2-3, 5-7).
Earlier in the letter to the Ephesians Paul speaks of the mystery of God’s will as being “a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in Christ, things in heaven and things on earth” (1:9-10). The mystery, you see, is that God’s love is a gathering love, a love aimed at bringing creation together, reconciling all people; it is a transforming love, filling us with compassion for the broken, the lonely, and the lost, creating within us a common kinship with all manner of people. Henri Nouwen describes the mystery of the gospel this way, that “the unfathomable mystery of God is that God is a Lover who wants to be loved. The One who created us is waiting for our response to the love that gave us our being.”
Perhaps one of the greatest tragedies of the contemporary church is that so few of us, even today, grasp this mystery at the heart of Christ’s coming. We are tempted to so domesticate the gospel story that it little carries any power to disturb, to transform, and to redeem life. Walter Brueggemann in his book Finally Comes the Poet reminds us that
The gospel is … a truth widely held, but a truth greatly reduced. It is a truth that has been flattened, trivialized, rendered inane. Partly the gospel is simply an old habit among many of us, neither valued nor questioned. But more than that, our technical way of thinking reduces mystery to problem, transforms assurance into certitude, quality into quantity, and so takes the categories of biblical faith and represents them in manageable shapes.
And yet, throughout history, whenever the gospel message has been trivialized, renewal movements have emerged. Our own faith tradition, the Church of the Brethren, emerged out of a time when much of the church’s life and worship in seventeenth and eighteenth century Europe had become rigid, sterile, and lifeless, and the church and state so wedded that the prophetic edge of the faith was in danger of being lost. Several centuries earlier, in thirteenth century Italy, a movement with Francis of Assisi at its center breathed new life into a dying church.
No doubt you remember the story. Francis, son of a wealthy merchant in thirteenth century Italy, was taken prisoner while a young adult serving in the military. After a serious illness and eventual release from imprisonment, Francis experienced a profound conversion. Though few in that time took the Christian faith seriously, Francis chose to invest all his energies into living a Christ-like life.
Francis soon found himself surrounded by a band of followers. Born in violent times when virtually everyone traveled armed with weapons, Francis chose not to do so. Even more, Francis forbade his followers to carry weapons. In a day when the owning of property necessitated the rendering of military service, Francis, much to the chagrin of his family, intentionally renounced personal property and gave away great wealth, thus ensuring that he could follow a life of peace.
Some time near the end of his relatively brief life, Francis reportedly urged his band of followers, “Come, let us begin to be Christians.” At first thought, it seems an odd invitation, since Francis was speaking to those who had already committed themselves to walking in the footsteps of Jesus. And yet, is not the Christian life ever a matter of beginning anew? Do we not need to remind ourselves, again and again, of what it means to live with Christ and for Christ? Do we not need to hear with some frequency the challenge to embrace the mystery of the gospel?
In the hymn, “Walk Humbly,” sung earlier by the trio, it is the voice of God speaking, inviting us to embrace the mystery:
Walk humbly, my people, embrace one another.
Sing softly your praises, in stillness discover
creation is crying and faint hearts are dying.
Reach out your arms and gather them in.
Walk gently, my people, through fields of the weeping …
Whisper my hope, my forgiveness of sin.
Walk healing, my people, midst crowds of the needing …
Walk boldly, my people, your pilgrimage sharing.
I journey beside you, my strength and my caring
as part of your being my spirit made whole.
Be my hands and my feet and my mouth and my song.
This is what it means for us to embrace the mystery, to be God’s hands and feet and mouth and song, to be an inviting people, a humble people who walk in healing ways, whispering hope, while also walking in boldness, proclaiming peace and self-giving love. Shall we not come this morning to the eucharist, eager to be filled anew with courage, strength, peace and hope as we embrace the mystery of God’s love, a gathering love open to all manner of people, a transforming love that empowers us to become God’s hands and feet and mouth and song. Come, let us begin to be Christians!
God, holy, sovereign, faithful, generous, you who promise to make all things new, hear us as we pray. We raise our voices in praise for your goodness, and we acknowledge yearnings deep within us to experience firsthand the promise of new life. Around us, and within us, God, we are aware of places of pain and wretchedness. Violence, fear, powerlessness, hurt, anger, loss—these are all too present with us. Lord, listen to us, your children, praying for the newness that brings strength in our weakness, hope in our despair. Lord, listen to us praying now for wisdom and guidance as we embark upon a new year …
God, you call us to be the church, to be a community of peace, a people who embody your self-giving love and who witness to your light. Hear us, Lord, as we pray your blessings upon the many ministries of the church—ministries of life and hope enacted through Church of the Brethren agencies, locally and around the world; ministries for the poor, the homeless, the broken, the searching; ministries for people like us. God of newness, hear our prayers for all we seek to do in your name and in your Spirit …
Send us power, O God. Send us grace. Send us love. We have heard your call to faithfulness, yet we are often cowardly. We have heard your call to obedience, but we remain self-indulgent. We have heard the challenge to offer our devotion to you, but we remain otherwise preoccupied. O God, send healing and wholeness to our hearts. Strengthen our commitment. And hear us now as we hold before you those in special need of your healing touch …
Lord, send your spirit in this place. Not just among this congregation, not just throughout our denomination, but in our nation and world; indeed, send your spirit throughout all creation. O God, may your reign of justice and peace come alive. May swords be beaten into plowshares. May the hop of new life become the order of the day.
Just when we think we have you figured out, O God, you show up working the other side of the street. You do not allow us to be satisfied with one small corner of life, but invite us to expand our vision, enlarge our perspective, increase our reach. O God, may your kingdom come, your will be done, in and through us, and when necessary, in spite of us. God, send us grace, send us power, send us love. Amen.