First Sunday after Christmas, December 28, 2014 | 8:00, 9:30, and 11:00 a.m.

Be Amazed

Victoria G. Curtiss
Associate Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Psalm 148
Isaiah 61:10—62:3
Luke 2:22–40

We are all meant to be mother of God, for God is always needing to be born.

Meister Eckhart

There is a play written by Kevin Kling called Lloyd’s Prayer. It is a comedy that plays off religious themes. One of the characters is an angel. I don’t remember much about the plot of Lloyd’s Prayer, but I vividly remember a particular line that the angel says: “Be amazed.” “Be amazed” are her first words when she appears in the play. They also are the very last words of the play, ones that the angel speaks. It is an imperative that the angel says numerous times throughout the play. Once she also says, “Be not afraid,” like the angels tend to do in the Bible. But mostly she commands the other characters to pause, take note, and be amazed.

There is a lot of being amazed in the story of baby Jesus being taken to the temple by his parents. As a continuation of the birth narrative of Jesus, we find his parents taking baby Jesus to the temple in Jerusalem for their purification and to consecrate their firstborn son as God’s holy servant. The fact that they sacrificed to God a pair of turtledoves conveys they were a poor family who could not afford to offer a lamb. There was probably nothing unusual in their appearance, nothing that outwardly distinguished them from anyone else.

And yet one man, Simeon, upon seeing the family, was amazed and overjoyed. He recognized in the baby Jesus the long-awaited Messiah. Simeon was a devout and righteous man, on whom the Holy Spirit rested. The Spirit had planted in his heart a yearning that the people Israel, his people, would know God’s comfort and hope. He yearned for this for many years. The Spirit revealed to him that he would not die before seeing the Messiah with his own eyes. And the Spirit led him to go into the temple that particular day and opened his eyes to recognize the child Jesus as the Messiah God had promised. Simeon took the baby in his arms and praised God, declaring, “Master, now your servant can depart in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all the peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.”

Simeon’s testimony was corroborated by another person in the temple, an old woman, a prophet named Anna. Anna had been widowed after only seven years of marriage. Ever since, until now at the age of eighty-four, she spent every day and night of her life in the temple, praying and fasting. She, like Simeon, had been eagerly watching and waiting to see God fulfill what God had promised. She, too, had lived for weeks, months, years, expectant and hopeful. Once she recognized the baby as the long-awaited Messiah, she ran around in amazement, excitedly telling everyone who would listen. Simeon and Anna, in their old age, were jumping around like little children.

Fourth Church has its own Anna. Her name truly is Anna. She comes for Morning Prayer almost every single morning, Monday through Friday, to share in the fifteen minutes of morning devotion and intercessory prayer that we offer in the front of the Sanctuary. Often she may be the only one besides the person leading Morning Prayer, but there she is, day in and day out. On the morning of Christmas Eve I asked Anna before we started, as I always do, if she had any particular joys or concerns she’d like lifted up in prayer. And Anna said, as she often does, that she wanted to give thanks to God for God’s love, and for the gift of Jesus. Tears began to flow down her cheeks as she said to me, “When I think of how much God loves me and all of us it makes me want to cry.” After a bit I asked Anna if she would be coming to any of our Christmas Eve services, and she said she could not because if she were not in line by 6:30 p.m., the homeless shelter where she stays would give her bed to someone else. Here is a woman who is homeless whose joy in life and gratitude for God’s love were overflowing. Anna was at the 8:00 service this morning, so I asked her during Coffee Hour if it was alright that I used her as an example. She took my hand and smiled and said, “It is important for people to realize that God loves us, no matter what our circumstances.” Be amazed.

In the biblical story, it wasn’t just Simeon and Anna who were amazed, filled with praise and joy. Mary and Joseph were also amazed, astonished at what was said about their newborn child. Amazed, perhaps even confused in surprise, astounded, in awe.

Aren’t all of us enthralled with a newborn baby? Nothing may stop people in their tracks more than seeing a baby in a stroller or being carried by a parent. We pause to see her face, or pat his head or touch the tiny hands. We want to know about the baby. What is your baby’s name? How old is he? Whenever we baptize babies, don’t we all crane our necks so we can glimpse the facial expressions of the infant? Don’t we take delight in whatever sounds the baby makes, whether cooing or crying? And, of course, if the infant happens to be your own child or your grandchild, there is no greater miracle in the world than your special newborn baby. Babies bring forth our hope, our joy, our wonder.

This would be especially so for Mary and Joseph. There in the temple they are just beginning to get a glimpse that their son truly is like no other. All parents hope for the best for their child and dream that their child will do great things. But what these parents heard goes beyond anyone’s highest dreams and expectations.

Yet it wasn’t all happy news that Simeon spoke to mother Mary. Simeon warned Mary that her beloved son would face opposition. Some in Israel would fall and others rise in his work of salvation, revealing their true character. Jesus would suffer, and so would Mary. Her soul would be pierced as if by a sword.

Hard news. Harsh news. News that would burden and later break her heart. Intimations of resistance, violence, and death-dealing forces right from the start. How is it that Simeon and Anna, Joseph and Mary, were praising God with joy, when they also knew that suffering was built into Jesus’ future?

Isn’t that the question for us all? How do we remain in awe and wonder when surrounded by so much pain? How can we be amazed when our hearts are heavy with our own personal disappointments, hurts, discouragement, and losses? How can we praise God when there is so much brokenness in the world? Unending violence, poverty that chokes too many lives, the gridlock of government, the destructive persistence of racism, the extinction of species, and melting of glaciers at an alarming rate—all this weighs heavy upon our hearts.

Our spirits may have been lifted for a moment on Christmas Eve. Perhaps you felt a sense of wonder singing “Silent Night” a cappella while the packed sanctuary was completely dark except for the candles that lighted people’s faces and the lights that shone on the carved angels above. But what about now, now that Christmas Eve and Christmas Day have passed? Now that the presents have been opened and gatherings with loved ones are over? Have we returned with resignation to the mere routine of life? Has the evening news squelched our joy?

This is an honest question I myself ask. There is much pain in the world over which we lament, and rightfully so. If our hearts are not aching sometimes, they must be made of stone. And yet, if we are not also amazed, we are missing what God is about. Not to be amazed reveals our limited understanding of who God is and what God is doing.

Perhaps we thought the coming of the Messiah would free us from all suffering. The coming of the Messiah does not free us from all suffering. Not everyone welcomes God’s ways into their lives. There is opposition and division amidst humanity’s responses to God. Jesus, whom we call the Prince of Peace, himself is quoted as saying that he came to the earth not to bring peace but a sword (Matthew 10:34).

What the coming of the Messiah does mean is that we do not suffer alone. The Word has been made flesh. We can know God because God made God’s Self known to us in a form we can relate to: a human being. And that human being shows us that God is love. Emmanuel, God-with-Us, is ever present, abiding with us, loving us. God lives with us, among us, and within us.

The first time I remember learning about Jesus was when I was four years old. My mother read a children’s book to me whose words were from “Away in a Manger.” When I heard that “no crying he makes” I was amazed, because I had a baby sister who cried a lot. As an adult, I realized that’s not true. Jesus did cry, just as we do. He cried out of love for us. And he laughed, just as we laugh. That is what amazes me now. There is no experience we can have that Christ did not also have.

Douglas John Hall is a distinguished theologian now in his late eighties. As he approached his eightieth birthday, he wrote in his Christmas letter, “As I grow older I find myself drawn to the contemplation of the past. . . . Life is, after all, such an amazing journey. . . . It’s extraordinary, this human sojourn. . . . The idea of Divine Providence becomes very real at this stage. When you’re thirty or forty you can’t quite say this—there is still much that has to be left to chance. But as you near eighty, I find you can say most days ‘It’s true. We are not alone; we do live in God’s world.’”

The coming of the Messiah brings us hope and promise. Goodness is stronger than evil. The light will never be quenched by darkness. Christ shows us the way to true, abundant, and eternal life. Someday all nations will live in peace. God is at work whenever weapons are being recycled into farm tools. Someday no one will be hungry. God is present wherever generosity flows from compassion. Someday every creature will be honored. God reigns whenever people of different races live in harmony. Someday God’s kingdom will come on earth. God rules wherever love triumphs over hate.

Last Sunday one of the beautiful carols our choir sang was called “This Little Babe.” It describes the holy child doing battle against hell, being victorious as our guard and protection. But the little babe triumphs as one who shivers, who cries, who is weak and unarmed, cold and in need. The carol concludes by claiming that the way Jesus foils our foes is with joy. “Joy,” said Leon Bloy, a nineteenth-century novelist, “Joy is the most infallible sign of the presence of God.”

The Messiah comes and brings salvation, but not in the ways we may have expected. The power of the Messiah is not through the strength of a warrior or the might of a dictator. The Messiah brings salvation through vulnerable love. Love that comes as a humble, helpless baby. Love that doesn’t force its way into our hearts. Love that takes on others’ suffering. Love that faces opposition. Love that breaks the cycle of revenge by refusing to retaliate. Love that forgives. Love that embraces enemies. Love that dies on the cross. Love that cannot be confined by death, and yet also Love that depends on us to take Christ in and provide him home.

Loretta Ross wrote, “Transcendent Power breaks into our agendas with audacious vulnerability, needing shelter, human love, nurture, and reverence. And miracle of miracles, through revealing its need of us, we are the ones transformed” (Loretta Ross, Making Haqqodesh, a newsletter of Sanctuary).

Be amazed. God chose to come into our world as one of us. Be amazed. God chooses to need us to bring forth Christ’s birth. The thirteenth-century mystic, Meister Eckhart, wrote, “We are all meant to be mother of God, for God is always needing to be born.”

Something similar was written by St. John of the Cross, a sixteenth-century mystic. Listen to his poem titled “If You Want”:

If you want
the Virgin will come walking down the road
pregnant with the holy
and say,

“I need shelter for the night, please take me inside your heart,
my time is so close.”

Then, under the roof of your soul, you will witness the sublime
intimacy, the divine, the Christ
taking birth forever,

as she grasps your hand for help,
for each of us
is the midwife of God, each of us.

Yes there, under the dome of your being, does creation
come into existence externally, through your womb, dear pilgrim—
the sacred womb of your soul,

as God grasps our arms for help; for each of us is
his beloved servant
never
far.

If you want, the Virgin will come walking
down the street pregnant
with Light and sing . . .

(St. John of the Cross, “If You Want,” translated by Daniel Ladinsky, Love Poems from God: Twelve Sacred Voices from the East and West)

Friends, you are each called to be a midwife of God. We are all called to give birth to God. Be amazed.

Let us pray:

Over two thousand and more years
have we become immune, O God, to your embodiment?
Startle us with the reality of your fleshy humanness.
Reawaken us this Christmas
to be open-mouthed in awe at your coming.
May our wonder surpass what consumes our lives
as we look with fresh awareness at who you are.
Learning from you, rededicated to live your teachings,
may our own fleshiness radiate genuine love.
May the Incarnate One’s coming amaze us. Amen.

(Joyce Rupp, Fragments of Your Ancient Name)

Sermon © Fourth Presbyterian Church