John 2:1-11 - "No Wine"

         One day, a priest was driving down the street, and, in the rear view mirror, he saw the blue lights of a police car.  The priest pulled over to the side of the road.

         A police officer came up to the car window and told the priest that he had been speeding.  Then the police officer saw an empty wine bottle in car and could not help but smell alcohol on the breath of the priest.

         "Father, have you been drinking?" asked the officer.

         "Only water, my son." replied the priest.

         "Why then do I smell wine?" questioned the officer.

         The priest, looking at the wine bottle, replied, "Oh, my Lord, He's gone and done it again!"

         The story of turning water into wine at the wedding feast in Cana is one of the better-known tales we remember about Jesus.  Interestingly enough though, the story of this wedding is only included in one Gospel narrative. You cannot find it in Matthew, Mark, or Luke.  However, it is the way that the Gospel writer of John chooses to begin his narrative of Jesus’ ministry. 

         The Gospel writer goes not with a publically acclaimed and dramatic healing, nor with a heart-stopping exorcism, nor even with a brilliantly articulate and probing sermon in the synagogue, but rather starts off with a Jewish wedding. 

         Whereas the other three Gospel writers send Jesus out into the wilderness for forty days of asceticism (no food, no drink), personal reflection, and solitude immediately following his baptism in the Jordan River, the writer of John sends Jesus out to party at a seven-day, no holes barred celebration. 

         Biblical scholars and ancient historians will tell us that a typical Jewish wedding in Jesus’ time would have put a number of Saturday night fraternity keg parties to shame.  It did not even begin on a Saturday but earlier in the week with a procession through town. 

         The groom and his attendants would show up at the bride’s house.  She would come out on the front stoop and lower her face veil for the very first time, so that the groom could actually see what she looked like below the eyes and above the neck.  Unless men have changed remarkably over the millennia, I would suspect that there was a certain amount of smirking and catcalls and raucous reminders of what awaited the groom later on.

         Following this very important ritual, the procession would continue to meander through the village streets, only to end up at the groom’s home where family, friends, and neighbors had already gathered with their appetizers and casseroles, ready to drink the first of many toasts over the next seven days.  Let the party begin!

         However, at this particular wedding, the timing was all off.  We are told that on the third day, just halfway through the celebration, the wine ran out.  And that was a major problem.  It was a matter of enormous shame for the groom’s family hosting the celebration – far worse than if the baked stuffed mushrooms were all gone – far worse even than if the chip basket was empty and the dip bowl scraped clean at Lori and Dan’s before the end of the Super Bowl.  We are talking a crisis here.

         And Jesus’ mother apparently was sensitive to this disturbing faux pas, this terrible blunder, this mortifying and dire situation.  And being a good Jewish mother, her first instinct was to fix the problem. 

         With no Sunset Variety or Good Life Market to turn to replenish the wine cellar, she turned to her son instead.  Now, some might be shocked to find Jesus at a wedding in the first place instead of out there healing lepers, raising the dead,

or challenging the temple authorities.  However, in our story today, he is apparently thoroughly enjoying himself at this week-long party, drinking his share of the wine – and not grape juice.  So Mary sidled up to Jesus and casually whispered to him, “They have no wine.  The wine ran out.”

         I am not sure that Jesus was particularly thrilled to have his mother butt into his good times that way – to presume that he could, should, or would do something about the wine issue.  In fact, he said so in so many words.  “What concern is that to you and me?”  In other words - “Bugger off, Mom!”

         Maybe Jesus just wanted to mind his own business, just have a good time.  Or maybe deep down inside, if he even knew that he was not like other people, he realized that just as the timing was all wrong at this wedding, so the timing was all wrong for him as well – maybe he did not want to go public right now.  Maybe that explains his retort:  “My hour has not yet come.”

         Now a brief and pointed remark like that one would have been a conversation stopper for most people, but Mary was a strong willed woman and apparently would not take no for an answer – particularly from her son.  And though she had no direct rejoinder to him, she did take a deep breath and did an abrupt about face as she left that corner of the atrium where Jesus too turned back to laugh and joke with his friends once more – but not before she loudly directed the servants, who were standing around with their half-filled plates of cucumber sandwiches and pigs-in-blankets, to “do as he tells you.”

         I guess Mary won that round with her covertly rebellious son because Jesus sighed deeply and told the servants to fill six of the 30-gallon purification jugs with water and then let the wine steward try it.

         Well, as we know, the stubby little bearded head honcho wine guy could not believe his taste buds.  Marvelous!  Extraordinaire!  Dark and rich with a whisper of oak, tasting of plums and blackberries with a hint of belting leather – it was the essence of fine wine.  And so much of it – 180 gallons, no less!  Astounding – the best wine saved for last when most of the guests would have been content with Ripple or Boone’s Farms by now.  Problem solved.  The party goes on, and it goes on in style.         

         Why did the Gospel writer of John ever decide to start off the story of Jesus’ ministry this way?  After all, only a few people – the servants and wine steward – and his mother - knew what he had done.  The rest of the party goers just kept refilling their wine glasses.  Many of them probably never even knew there was a problem – and most of them could not tell the good wine from the better wine at that point anyway. 

         And yet, this story is the first of seven “signs” in the Gospel of John to explain the role of Jesus in God’s scheme of things.  The other Gospel writers call such events miracles, but I rather like the term, “sign.”  A sign points to something – a truth – beyond itself.  A sign is a symbol of something greater.  So the question for us is this:  What truth does this water into wine event point to?  What does this occurrence tell us about Jesus, God, and ourselves?

         A number of years ago, when Johnny Carson was the host of “The Tonight Show,” he interviewed an eight year old boy.  Apparently, the young child had rescued two friends in a coalmine outside his hometown in West Virginia.

         As Johnny Carson questioned the boy, it became apparent that the young man was a church goer.  So Johnny asked him if he attended Sunday school.

         When the boy said he did, Johnny inquired, "What are you learning in Sunday school?"

         "Last week," the boy replied, "our lesson was about when Jesus went to a wedding and turned water into wine."

         "And what did you learn from that story?" the late night interviewer queried.

         The boy squirmed in his chair. It was apparent that he really had not thought about the possible relevance of the Biblical narrative.

         However, after a moment or two, the boy looked directly at the TV cameras and said with all the authority one could expect an eight year old to muster up, "What I learned is if you're going to have a wedding, make sure you invite Jesus!"

         Though an interesting perspective, surely there is more to this story than that!  I am quite certain that the point is not that Jesus could take plain old drinking water and turn it into wine, so that the family of the groom would not lose face in the community. 

The point is not the so-called miracle itself, and the point is also not that Jesus was capable of having a good time every now and then. 

         No – we are selling the Gospel writer short if we think that is all he or she had in mind.  You see, I think there are three more substantive ideas that we might take with us from this story to reflect on this week.

         The first is that God never does anything half way.  Our God is a God of abundance.  There was not just enough wine to get by.  There was an extravagant profusion of plenty – 180 gallons of the very best.    As Lutheran pastor Edward Markquart reminds us – “180 gallons of grace.” 

         180 gallons of extravagant love for us – all of us – even the very least and most undeserving among us.  Grace upon grace and blessing upon blessing – filling us to the very brim, just like those water jugs at the wedding.  Remember that next time you are feeling alone and unloved and as if nothing in your life is as it should be.  Grace upon grace and blessing upon blessing.

         The second is that God takes small things and makes them into big things.  Only a few people saw what Jesus had done at the wedding. 

What impact could this single back room event possibly have on the rest of Jesus’ ministry? 

         According to the Gospel writer of John – a lot!  After all, it was the first of seven signs and, as one Methodist blogger wrote, it is called “The Butterfly Effect. You may have heard this as: if a butterfly flaps its wings in Africa, the wind generated by those wings ends up creating a hurricane in the Atlantic…(In other words), it is the small things that end up causing big changes in the world…The God we worship is a God that takes little things and makes them into big things. A baby in a basket floating down a river turns into a leader who would take his people out of slavery…. Fisherman doing their jobs would hear the calling of a traveler and help transform a world.

         The awesomeness of the God we worship is that nothing is too small. No act is too insignificant. (And) if God can use a wedding running out of wine (to make a point), it makes me wonder what little events in my life God (might use) to transform the world and the people I meet.”

         And finally the third is that what happened at the wedding is not an anomaly.  It is not the exception to the rule.  Whether we like it or not, whether we feel that it is fair or unfair, the wine always runs out – no matter who we are.  A marriage fails.  We lose a job.  Our children falter.  A spouse passes away.  We are alone.  We are in pain.  We are broken.  The wine has run out. 

         And so the question is not if the wine will run out, but rather when it does, what do we do about it?  And the answer is nestled here in this little story that only the Gospel writer of John records. 

         And the answer is not found in the pivotal moment of water becoming wine.  In fact, Jesus does not articulate the answer at all, but rather his mother his.  The answer lies in the words she speaks to the servants.  “Do as he tells you.”

         When the wine runs out – as it inevitably will do in the lives of each one of us – when the wine runs out:  Do as he tells us.  Do as Jesus tells us.  Pray, love, and serve.  Reconnect with God, love yourself and your neighbor, and care – be compassionate rather than self-involved, and reach out to help those around you.  

         And if you do as Jesus tells us over and over again to do - not just in the Gospel of John but in Matthew, Mark, and Luke as well, if you pray, love, and serve, you will find that, in new and surprising ways, the wine will start to flow again – and not just a trickle either – and not Ripple or Boones Farms, but 180 gallons of the very best, 180 gallons of grace and blessing.

by Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church

www.rvccme.org

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22 "Marked by God"

       A young man had come forward to the altar to receive the sacrament of baptism. As he was standing before the congregation, the pastor turned and looked at him through those half-moon glasses that sat perched precariously on the very end of his long nose and said to the young man in his most preacher-like voice, “Baptism is a serious step to take; are you prepared for this?”

       “I think so,” said the young man. “My wife has fixed appetizers, and we have a caterer coming to serve the meat and the vegetables – and we had a special cake made for dessert.”

       “That’s not what I mean,” said the pastor in his deep, soul-filled voice. “I mean, baptism is a serious step; are you prepared - in spirit?”

         “Oh, most definitely,” said the young man. “We have a keg of beer and a case of whiskey just for the occasion.”

         Today is the day that we set aside in the church year to remember the occasion – the serious step - of our baptisms – or if we have not been baptized or cannot remember our own, perhaps we can remember our children’s baptisms – or our grandchildren’s. 

And if we cannot remember their baptisms either, then surely we can remember the baptism of Jesus – which, for us at least, is where it all started anyway.

         This year we look at this ancient story from the perspective of the writer of the Gospel of Luke.  Mennonite pastor Leo Hartshorn describes the event beautifully:  “Along the Jordan River John the Baptizer was drawing crowds of people. They came to hear his fiery preaching and to be dunked beneath the murky waters as a sign of repentance, a moral about face, before God bursts through the doors of time and like a farmer separates the chaff from the wheat. Some thought John to be the Messiah, the Coming Judge. John pointed his finger to the horizon and said, "I dunk you in water. The One who is coming will dunk you in the Holy Spirit and fire!"

         John's baptism was a counter ritual to the temple (purification rites). His baptism… was offered as an alternative…..(And) as the common people turned from their old lives in preparation for the coming judgment, they were marked as people identified with John and his apocalyptic message of the coming judgment.”

        One of those who came to be baptized in such a way was Jesus.  Interestingly enough, however, in this particular Gospel, John does not do the baptizing.  We know that because if we were to read the verses that are skipped in our lectionary reading, we would discover that John was in prison at the time for not being quite as supportive of King Herod as Herod’s wife wished him to be.  

         And in her hatred of John, the man from the mountains dressed in his camel’s hair and sporting that crazy diet of locusts and wild honey, she had applied some palace trickery.  It had all resulted in John’s arrest, and soon the baptizer would be executed, and his head would be served on a silver platter at Herod’s birthday dinner no less in the presence of a shocked court.  However, that is another story for another sermon.

         Back to Jesus’ baptism….“He steps waist deep into the brown water with the rest of the people. By all appearances he's just one more sinner come to repent and be scrubbed clean by the Spirit. The reeds along the shore bend in the breeze. Expanding circles spread out around him from the water drops. A crane soars over the surface of the river. (Jesus is dunked) beneath the watery skin of the river with a splash and gurgle.

         The dripping of water harmonizes with the mumbling of a prayer as Jesus lifts his wet arms to the heavens. The cobalt blue sky responds to Jesus as if opening to receive his prayer. The Spirit of holiness descends upon him as when Noah's dove finally found a resting place. A thunder clap in the sky speaks, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."

         In that pivotal moment, Jesus becomes a marked man – marked as one of God (“You are my beloved son”).  But he is also marked as one of us – and that is important too.  There he is, in Leo Hartshorn’s words:  “wading right beside us through the murky waters of life.” 

         There he is – lined up for the dunking on the muddy shoreline right beside the cheaters, the oddballs, the one who stole a loaf of bread just yesterday, those who lived on the wrong side of the tracks, the ones who last week had coveted their neighbor’s wife, yelled at their mother-in-law.  There Jesus is – rubbing shoulders with the marginalized and even more so with the peasant poor.

         For the Gospel writer of Luke, the baptism of Jesus signifies the beginning of his active ministry, and the Gospel writer makes no bones about its unusual setting. 

Jesus puts himself willingly in the very midst of the lonely, the blind, the impoverished, the halt, the lame, the widows, the whores, and the tax collectors – in the very midst of all of the murkiness and muddiness of humanity. 

         The baptism of Jesus is that point in time when God affirms Jesus’ call to preach, teach, and heal in a radically different way, one that is grounded in compassion, non-violence, and justice.  It is that moment in time when God gives Jesus the strength to model in his own life and to do this ministry that so needs to be done to set the world aright. 

         The baptism of Jesus is that moment in time when God marks this idealistic, still wet-behind-the-ears young man with a special love that passes all our understanding.  Clarence Jordan, in the Cotton Patch Gospel, paraphrases God’s words like this: “You are my dear son; I’m proud of you.”

         And those words echo and ring and whisper and shout through every Christian baptism since the disciples themselves went out two by two to continue the ministry of this man, Jesus. Those astounding words of sacred forgiving love are for us – whether we are sprinkled with water, have it poured on our heads, or are fully dunked, whether we are an infant or an elder or somewhere in between. 

         We do not say those words often in a baptism nowadays – “You are a dear child of God, and God is proud of you” – but maybe we should because surely they lie at the heart of what we as Protestant Christians affirm about this sacrament – the holy time of baptism. 

         Like so much of what Jesus actually taught, as we understand it, baptism is not about what happens to us in the future.  It is not about making sure we will get into heaven.  It is not about a magic trick that somehow rids us of what many have called original sin. 

         Baptism is rather about the promises we make (or are made for us) to follow the way of Jesus now – in this life.  Baptism as we understand it is about the community in which we choose to do that following.  And rather than being about original sin, it would be more accurate to say that baptism as we understand it is about affirming our original blessing.  

        Baptism is when we say (or when our parents say for us until we can say it ourselves):  I have decided to follow Jesus.  I have decided to walk his way. This is the start of my sacred journey.  This is the beginning of my Christian ministry.  As it was for Jesus when he pulled himself out of the Jordan River – soaking wet, affirmed by God, and committed to the Gospel message, so it is for us.

         “I am pledging to learn more about who Jesus was and is, about his way of courage and compassion. I promise to model my own life after his. I do so, knowing that I will falter and fail in my resolve.  I know I will need God’s forgiveness and grace.”  (Kenneth Gribble) 

         I know I will need to remember again and again those words of original blessing:  You are a dear child of God, and God is proud of you.”  But I will also need to remember their corollary:  “You are a dear child of God, sent into the world to make a difference.”  That is what baptism, as we understand it, is all about.

         However, baptism is not an individual affair.  One is baptized into a community of others who are baptized as well, who are committed in the same manner to living the way of Jesus. 

 As Mary Beth Danielson wrote, “baptism is not a sacrament administered in a closet. It is not a private, holy ceremony passed down from the pious to the pure in heart. It is about belonging to a church. It is about the strengths and failures of the ordinary and extraordinary people who make up that church. It is about being rooted and joined to real people in imperfect but real ways.”  And in being rooted to those people, we are re-rooted to God in a new way.

         It is a small moment – baptism, that is – in the scheme of things.  Ten minutes of worship time.  Water sprinkled.  A few words said. That momentary feeling of wetness on the top of our head – or the water running into our eyes. 

         Oh, maybe there is a celebration afterwards - “My wife has fixed appetizers, and we have a caterer coming to serve the meat and the vegetables – and we had a special cake made for dessert….. We have a keg of beer and a case of whiskey just for the occasion.”

         Or maybe we just go home.  Either way, it is not like a wedding – or even a prom.  But sometimes, sometimes, it is these smallest moments that carry with them the deepest truths – truths about the journey we are on and who will travel with us and, most of all, who we really are – beloved and dear sons and daughters of God sent into the world to make a difference.

         Baptism is a once-in-a lifetime event.  You do not need to be baptized every time you find a new church.  Once is enough.  And when you really think about it, we do not experience many such moments. Weddings and proms often come in twos and even threes these days.

         But because of its “once is enough” and almost ephemeral nature, baptism is easily forgotten as the years go by.  And that is really too bad because those baptismal promises or vows, if taken seriously, indelibly etch on our hearts the way we have chosen to live.  They are a proclamation to God about who we intend to be.

         And so I think it is important to remember our baptism in an intentional way on this day when we remember the baptism of Jesus. To do so, in a moment I will invite you to come forward to the baptismal font.  Just take a peek, if you wish, at the stones now looking all shiny and new in the water – and remember that is like you because through your baptism you are a new person.  God has acknowledged you as a dear daughter or son. 

        And if you wish, dip your hand in and simply feel the water and remember the promises that you made or that were made for.  And if you have not been baptized?  You are still invited to come and remember that you too are a child of original blessing.  I invite you to come forward.

By Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond VIllage Community Church -  www.rvccme.org 

        

         

Luke 1:39-55 - Mary's Song

         In the Protestant church, we do not think very much about Mary, the mother of Jesus.  She figures much more prominently in Roman Catholicism.  If you have ever wandered through a great Gothic cathedral – or even ventured into a smaller Catholic church with a couple of alcoves, surely you have seen the statues, stone images of Mary the Madonna, set behind flickering votive candles lit in her honor. 

         When we were in Peru, we witnessed a full stage village procession on one of Mary’s many feast days.  Hundreds of people walked the parade route.  Some of them beat drums, others wore elaborate costumes, and still others set off firecrackers from the cliffs above the road.  The town priests and nuns were there in force, surrounding on all sides a large, highly ornate image of the BVM (Blessed Virgin Mary) which rode in a decorated basket-like thing held high on four stakes above the parading populace.

         Oh, do not get me wrong!  Mary pops up in our Protestant churches too – most often around Christmas.  We picture her in Bethlehem, looking radiant and spotless, as if she just stepped out of the pages of Vogue – or Seventeen – staring into the eyes of her newborn baby.  In addition, if we read the Gospel of John around Good Friday, we find her again, this time kneeling – a bit disheveled - at the foot of the cross, once again beholding her son.

         However, the Gospel of Luke, our focus Gospel for this coming church year, gives considerably more ink to this woman.  In fact, unlike the author of Mark who begins his Gospel with the baptism of Jesus, Matthew who embarks with a genealogy, or John who starts off at creation with the Word, the Gospel writer of Luke begins his narrative with Mary.

         In fact, the men are strangely quiet at the beginning of this gospel.  Zechariah the old priest and husband of Elizabeth has been struck mute, and Joseph – though he could - does not say a word.  We get our first clue about this Gospel writer’s perspective on the ministry of Jesus through Mary and her older cousin, Elizabeth.

       The Gospel writer tells us that God chose Mary to bear a son.  It all begins with that truth.  Imagine that!  What in the world was God thinking?  Mary was not rich.  She was not even married – though she was dating.  And she was only a teenager.  But in spite of those apparent strikes against her, God chose her.  Imagine that!

       No – Mary really could not imagine that.  I mean, what was God thinking?  Presbyterian pastor Adam Copeland puts it this way:  “There surely were better ways, right? Come as an adult and skip over those nasty cloth diapers and terrible twos — that sounds good. Or if God must be born as one of us, at least choose a respectable family. Someone married, with means; a family that has shown good parenting skills and is keeping up with the Joneses. Couldn’t God have found someone a bit more qualified than Mary?’

       She did said yes, of course – though undoubtedly with some level of shock because the news was more like a death sentence in a world where adultery was punishable by stoning.  Perhaps she wondered how many other virgins that angel had approached before he had come to her, and she had agreed. 

       On a less cosmic level, this pregnancy thing threw a monkey wrench in all her best-laid plans.  I mean, really, a young unmarried girl like herself in this shameful state!  Why – what would the neighbors say?  “Pick a little, talk a little, pick a little, talk a little…”

       It is not every day either that you had to break this news to your family – and to your husband-to-be – and yes, Joseph was taking his own sweet time figuring out first whether he even believed her and second precisely what he was going to do.

       No wonder Mary struck off on her own to seek out her cousin, Elizabeth.  She needed support – and comfort.  She needed someone to give her a bit of perspective on it all – and a friend to assure her that she was up to the task. 

       And so she walked – alone, no easy feat –many miles up into the hill country of Judea.  And when she ended up on Elizabeth’s doorstep, she discovered two things.

       First, Mary found out that Elizabeth was also pregnant – and surely she felt some sense of relief in knowing that, yes, miracles do happen.  You see, her elderly cousin had given up on the idea of bearing children years ago, but here she was carrying a son who would grow up to be John the Baptizer. 

       And if Elizabeth ever wondered if it all was real, the baby gave her firm kick – perhaps one of the first she had felt – when she opened her door to find Mary standing on the stoop.  Luke describes it as the baby “leaping for joy.”       

       The second thing that Mary discovered was that everything was going to be OK.  And we know that because, even if Mary did not tell Elizabeth straight off the baby news, pregnant women can spot one of their kind a mile off, and the first words out of Elizabeth’s mouth was this affirmation:  “Blessed are you, Mary!”  Of all the women God could have chosen, God chose you – not a socialite, not a queen, but you, one of the lowly.  “Blessed are you, Mary – and blessed is the child you will bear!”

       And maybe it was just hearing those words that caused something in Mary to break open – like a floodgate.  But she did not cry like people usually do when the floodgates open.  Instead, Mary sang. 

       It was as if the song was part and parcel of her DNA, and she could hold it in no longer.  The song, the one that traditionally we have called the Magnificat, was part of her.  She and the words she sang were one.

"My soul magnifies the Lord.

My spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior,

for he has looked at the humble state of his handmaid.

For behold, from now on, all generations will call me blessed."

       Imagine that – God seeking out a peasant teenager and not only transforming her but also exalting her.  It makes you wonder what God could do with us if we were as courageous in saying “yes” as Mary was.

         In essence, when Mary sings, she is a prophet – like Micah or Isaiah – because the words she sings are God’s words:  God’s manifesto, God’s charter, God’s fundamental document outlining what the world should be.  Mary’s song is God’s call to revolution and transformation.

         Her song tells us in no uncertain terms that God changes the order of everything.  The world is turned upside down.  Before Mary came along, we might have been impressed with beauty, education, intellect, and affluence.  But now, it is easy to see that the poor are on top, and the rich are on the bottom.  At the very foundation of the Gospel of Luke is the premise that God’s compassion is for the economically poor.  Therein lies true justice.

         That is the gist of the Magnificat – the glorious song that Mary cannot help but sing out.  However, do not get caught up in the poetry and how it all flows so well together.  Do not get caught up in simply the music.  This is revolutionary stuff!

“God has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts (she sings).

God has brought down the powerful from their thrones,

and lifted up the lowly;

God has filled the hungry with good things,

and sent the rich away empty.”

         The song tells us in no uncertain terms that God is reversing everything.  Winners become losers, and losers become winners.  Our culture may say that the beautiful, the rich, the successful, and the secure are the ones who are blessed because they seem to have no worries.  Our culture may say that the one who dies with the most toys wins. 

         But Mary is telling us no.  God has another plan in mind.  And do not worry about Mary speaking in the past tense – as if that somehow lets us all these millennia later off the hook – because prophets always get their tenses mixed up.  As Episcopal priest Barbara Brown Taylor notes “part of their gift is being able to see the world as God sees it--not divided into things that are already over and things that have not happened yet, but as an eternally unfolding mystery that surprises everyone."

         And if you do not want to believe this revolutionary stuff because it comes from a woman with a politically liberal bias, then remember that fellow named Jesus who came around a couple of decades later and echoed his mother’s song, “Blessed are the poor (he said), blessed are the hungry, blessed are the meek.”

         But let’s face it - these are tough words to swallow at Christmas time.  I am not sure we really want to hear this manifesto business as we make our way to Bethlehem.  To be honest, I would much rather go with the spotless Mary and the perfectly behaved stable animals. 

         I would rather start with “silent night holy night” instead of with that verse about bringing the powerful to their knees and sending the rich off hungry.  Why didn’t the Gospel writer just begin with the second chapter… “And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus…”

         But the gospel writer did not do that: First things first, as the saying goes.  The Gospel writer understood that before Christmas comes Advent.  Before the birth is Mary’s song of revolution.

         And so the question for us who make our way to Bethlehem to honor the child she bears is this:  Can we sing her song?  As we teeter on the brink of the fiscal cliff, can we sing Mary’s song with the same courage and faith that she sang it 2000 plus years ago?  Can we be the revolutionaries that God calls us to be?

         Jim Wallis, a noted Christian evangelical and author of God’s Politics:  How the Right Gets is Wrong and the Left Doesn’t Get It wrote this about our current circumstances a couple of days ago in his blog:  “The discussion we are having about “the fiscal cliff” is really a debate about our fiscal soul. What kind of nation do we want to be? We do need a path to fiscal sustainability, but will it include all of us — especially the most vulnerable? It’s a foundational moral choice for the country…(Wallis says) I am strongly in favor of restoring previously higher tax rates for the wealthiest 2 percent of Americans — and ending their unfair loopholes and deductions — but that still won’t raise enough revenue to move us toward fiscal sustainability while protecting the poor. We must make other choices in spending cuts and new revenues— but in clearly morally responsible ways. 

         Will we choose to protect demonstrably effective nutritional programs for low-income families instead of unjust subsidies to agribusiness? Or defend things like Pell Grants to enable students from low-income families to go to college for the first time over huge subsidies to profitable oil companies? Or help refinance mortgages for struggling single homeowners instead of retaining charitable tax deductions for second and third vacation homes? 

         Will we finally have an honest discussion about military spending and national security?...The faith community must urge (decision makers) to beat those swords into plowshares….The biblical prophets say that a nation’s “righteousness,” or integrity as we might say, is determined by how they treat the poorest and most vulnerable; and Jesus said how we respond to the least of these is indicative of how we respond to him.”

         Lutheran pastor, David Nelson writes, “In conceiving the child, Mary is a sign that God is in this life with us, down to the smallest, most basic, experience….a reminder that God's work gets done when otherwise ordinary people hear the voice of God and decide to say "yes."   Mary is a reminder that faith means following dreams -- dreams that begin with God - with courage and expectation.”

         And so the question for us who make our way to Bethlehem to honor the child Mary bears is this:  Can we sing her song?  Can we be the revolutionaries that God calls us to be?

         Because if we cannot, if we cannot embrace God’s manifesto, if we cannot sing Mary’s song from the depths of our souls, then we might as well forego Christmas because all the holiday will mean for us is more presents than we need and more food than we should eat.

         But if Mary’s song leaves you with a touch of hope, if Mary’s song ignites an imagination that has laid dormant for too long, if Mary’s song gives you a vision of a transformed world, and if you in the eyes of God can claim Mary’s song as your song, then come, come to the stable, come with the words of her song on your lips and with a new mother’s joy in your hearts because you are about to birth a new world, because you have made a commitment to follow the Child wherever he may lead.

         I invite you now to stand in solidarity with Mary and sing her song (Holy Is Your Name).

by Rev.Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church UCC

www.rvccme.org