Category Archives: Sundays after Christmas

Light it up!

Posted on by
Reply

“They set out. And there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen in the East, until it stopped over the place where the child was.”[1]

Ready for a year-end quiz? During this sermon a couple of pictures will appear on the screen. One is of a home near my place lighted up for Christmas. The other is of a star-filled sky with one that shines a little bit brighter than the rest—can you spot it?

Now, the question I have for you is this: Which one of the two photos reflects the way you have celebrated the Christmas holidays this year? The way you would have liked to, perhaps? Maybe a bit of both, ok. But which one, if you had to choose, claimed more of your heart and mind? Be honest.

The first may reflect our wonderful excitement and joy of the season: the coloured and blinking bulbs shouting the triumph of light. And maybe the lights represent a bit of pushback, emotionally, against the long nights at this time of year in the northern hemisphere. I think many of us can relate and lend our hands to congratulate our neighbours’ effort at brightening our lives.

What about the photo of the star lit sky—pinpricks of light against a canvas of predominantly dark space in the universe? And if you spend a bit of time contemplating the sky on a clear night, you might land on one star, that shines particularly bright—brighter than the others. Did you catch the one in the photo?

Which moves your heart more? Which presentation of light directs your heart?

The Magi came from the East, following the star “in the East”. This direction is significant and mentioned twice in the Gospel for today.[2] Not only was it to signify that the first visitors to the revealed Son of God were outsiders, foreigners, from Asia. That’s a sermon on its own.

But today, as the Christmas season carries on through the New Year and the Epiphany, I would like us to consider first why the ‘East’ is so important to the telling of Christ’s birth and his revelation as God’s Son.

I’ve mentioned before how Indigenous spirituality has us face the East to give thanks for all the good things in life, the gifts from the East, such as nourishing rain here in Canada during Spring and Summer.[3] East is the direction from which nature’s gifts to us arrive.

In the bible, the gate into and out of the paradise of Eden was on the East side of the garden.[4] Centuries later, the Great Temple of Jerusalem was specifically constructed and sited so that everyone who entered it would have an inner and symbolic re-entry into the Garden of Eden.[5]

A biblical overview cannot deny the profound connection between the Garden, the Temple, Jesus, and us in Christ through the Holy Spirit. Let me describe this series of connections:

Gift-giving is a major Christmas theme. The Magi bring gifts: gold, frankincense and myrrh. Why these gifts? What’s so unique about them?

These gifts of the Magi, brought from the East, were all references to the Great Temple. Frankincense and myrrh were the precise and essential components of the most important Temple rituals. They were as costly as the gold of the Temple’s vessels.

Moreover, the highly aromatic resin of myrrh was added to the oil used for royal and priestly anointing. And frankincense was burned only for the highest sacrificial offerings.[6]

With these precious materials, the Gospel writer Matthew symbolically transfers the components of the old, physical Great Temple to the infant Jesus, the Messiah of the new, inner temple. Warned in a dream not to return to Herod in Jerusalem, the Magi go home via a different road from one taken in the past. The new temple—our bodies as temples of the Holy Spirit—calls us down a different path, a new way that is here to stay.

Signifying the rising of the sun and the direction priests faced for morning sacrifice, the East represents the direction of new beginnings, of hope arising from the dark night. The Christmas story was meant to encourage the young, fledgling Christian community in the late 1st century. The Christmas story is meant to encourage us, today, to embrace a new beginning—as we do with the change of the calendar to a new year 2024 in a few short hours.

Today many people tell me they believe that each of us has a guardian angel or spirit surrounding and protecting us. People in the 1st century would have related to the story of a star guiding the Magi because of a similar Greek belief.

At the time, people believed that everyone received a star at birth—a gift that served as a guiding and protecting spirit. A star, given at birth. A gift and a blessing.

The star is an enduring metaphor for a spirit that guides us. The Magi describe the star of Bethlehem as “his star”[7]; that is, Christ’s star, that they have followed.

In the ‘down’ days following all the Christmas parties, excessive indulgence in food and drink, in these hangover days following the holidays, we may feel disconnected from ourselves and from what is true. We may be alone, or feel so.

Consider the word, “disaster”. Literally, it means “dis-star”—to be separated from one’s star, from one’s inner guidance. In this day and age, it is important for us to recover this understanding. Because we face “disaster” when we are separated from our deep wisdom where Jesus lives.[8]

And yet, in the middle of the mundane and the ordinary, the spiritual journey to recover the guiding star of our lives begins. It is in the middle of our ordinary life where the journey begins—just as the birth of Jesus is intentionally described as happening in the lives of very ordinary people and places.

Christ lives in our hearts, the new temple of the Holy Spirit. We have heard the invitation to search for the new life, a new way into the new year. We have heard the promises that the Magi will indeed pay us a visit as they did Jesus.

We don’t know what form they will take or what specific gifts of wisdom they will bring. These presents may be small—a piece of our past resolved—or very large—an unshakable conviction. But we can count on them being precious and powerful.[9]

And when we receive their messages, we must be attentive, so that their wisdom can unfold for us as we travel, following our star, in the way of Jesus the Christ.

[1] Matthew 2:9

[2] Matthew 2:1-12. The NRSV translation have the phrase “at its rising” in verses 2 & 9 but provide the option as well: “in the East”.

[3] Raymond Aldred & Matthew Anderson, Our Home and Treaty Land: Walking our Creation Story (Kelowna BC: Woodlake Books, 2022), p.28.

[4] Genesis 2:8; 3:24.

[5] Alexander John Shaia, Heart and Mind: The Four Gospel Journey for Radical Transformation, 3rd Edition (New Mexico: Quadratos LLC, 2021), p.272.

[6] Alexander John Shaia, ibid., p.86-88.

[7] Matthew 2:2

[8] Ibid., p.86.

[9] Ibid., p.88-89.

It’s time to light it up! (sermon during the Christmas season, Rev. Martin Malina, 2023)

Light-infused

Posted on by
Reply
audio for “Light-infused” by Martin Malina

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God …what came into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people … The true light, which enlightens everyone was coming into the world.”[1]

These are the first words from John’s Gospel, for this first day of firsts (the first day and Sunday of a new month, the first day and Sunday of a new year, and the First Sunday after Christmas).

Looking back over the past year, I realize I’ve discovered, or re-covered a renewed appreciation for receiving mail. Especially at Christmas. 

And I don’t mean e-mail. I mean opening old-fashioned, real paper, mailbox-visiting cards in the mail.

Thank you to all who gave me Christmas cards this year! I enjoyed opening each one. 

When I visited my mom’s apartment at Christmas, we spent time looking at her decorations and commenting on the Christmas cards she received and displayed on a table beside her advent wreath. Several of these cards came from far-away and overseas. 

One caught my attention. It was a photograph whose centrepiece was baby Jesus lying in a manger, surrounded by spruce trees decorated with real candles. I immediately responded favourably to the real spruce trees—it reminded me of the beauty of creation common in Canada. 

But it was baby Jesus, something about the way he was lying in his makeshift crib—the feeding trough—that, frankly, disturbed me. And it took me a moment to understand why. It was the way his little arms were spread out and feet were crossed that reminded me of the end of Jesus’ life on earth. 

Published by Evangelical Sisterhood of Mary, photo from print by Vineyard Publishing Co. Seoul, Korea

As I contemplated this depiction of baby Jesus, I realized I wasn’t just looking at a baby boy born in a Bethlehem barn during the reign of King Herod in first century Palestine. In that moment, time expanded to include both the trajectory of Jesus’ life on earth—the future, and the past—long before Jesus was born.

Let’s start in the past. The Incarnation was in the works since the beginning. The opening verses from the Gospel of John echo the first days of creation described in the first book of the bible, Genesis. 

What did God create on the first day? Light. Light is the subject of the first day of creation.[2] Light is the first action of God on earth. The light first shone when the world was created, “when God joined in unity with the physical universe and became the light inside of everything.”[3]

The true light was already shining in the shadowed places. The light was already shining in the darkness before Jesus, the human person, was born that first Christmas. That is why John writes that the light was coming into the world; it’s an ongoing work of God.

So instead of saying that God came into the world through Jesus, maybe it is more accurate at Christmas to assert that Jesus came out of an already light-infused world.[4]

With J. Philip Newell, I would assert that salvation in Jesus is not the bringing of light to a creation that doesn’t have it, but rather “the liberating of light”[5] from within, a light that is already there.

This realization brings me to my knees in confession. Because today, the problem we deal with is our resistance to the light. The problem is how we refuse God’s love and presence in our already light-infused world. Pray with me for God first to open the eyes of our minds and hearts to see in the shadowed places what God is doing. 

We see in the original Gospel stories of Jesus’ birth that there’s really nothing pretty about the first Christmas.[6] All the ways human beings end up resisting the light within us and the earth is personified by the ruthless King Herod.

Right from the start of Jesus’ life, Herod is threatened politically by Jesus. Right from the start, Jesus is the target of the authorities and political powers. The slaughter of the innocent children[7] highlights the gross injustices of our world whose selfish, power-hungry ends will justify the means at all costs—even killing children. Jesus, already at his birth, lies in the fore-shadow of the cross, and his eventual death at the hands of the powers-that-be.

The way baby Jesus’ feet and arms were positioned on that Christmas card was, in my mind, like Jesus in scenes depicting his death on the cross. I wonder if that connection—between Jesus’ birth and death—was intended by the artist of that Christmas card.

One lesson we can take away here is that the birth of Jesus does not remove the presence of evil in the world. It was true in the first days of creation. It was true at the birth of Jesus. And it is true today.

Another lesson along the way, which is the Gospel—good news, is the light still shines. It is still there, sometimes burning brightly for us to see. And sometimes, we don’t perceive it at all. And we may need to re-focus on where God is revealed and how God frees the light shining within our hearts and in this world. 

On the journey now with Jesus, here is some good advice from Marilyn Chandler McEntyre, on how to journey with Jesus when we find ourselves in the darkness of night and in the shadows of life:

Go slowly; Consent to it; But don’t wallow in it; Know it as a place of germination; And growth; Remember the light; Take an outstretched hand if you find one; Exercise unused senses; Find the path by walking in it; Practice trust; Watch for the dawn.[8]

On the first day of this new year, 2023, may you know moments of light, moments of grace, moments of love, as the dawn breaks anew.

[1] John 1:1-4,9

[2] Genesis 1:3-5

[3] Richard Rohr, “The First Incarnation” in Daily Meditations (www.cac.org, 18 December 2022)

[4] Ibid., 19 December 2022

[5] J. Philip Newell, The Book of Creation: An Introduction to Celtic Spirituality (Mahwah NJ: Paulist Press, 1999), p.11-13.

[6] Richard Rohr, ibid., 21 December 2022

[7] Matthew 2

[8] Marilyn Chandler McEntyre, “What to do in the darkness”, in Holly W. Whitcom, Seven Spiritual Gifts of Waiting (Minneapolis: Augsburg Books, 2005), p.38.

A sentimental Christmas?

Posted on by
Reply

We say that ‘Christmas is for the children’. Especially, parents and grandparents will focus much of their energies to make sure the children are happy: 

That the presents they receive will excite them, 

That the rituals around the Christmas tree and fireplace will fuel their anticipation and wonder, 

That the events in church and community the family attends will reinforce their understanding of the meaning of it all. 

And that all these efforts will bring delight to those who watch and attend them. And make it all worth the effort.

The accounts of Jesus’ birth – the Christ child born in Bethlehem – in the first chapters of Matthew and Luke especially reinforce our emphasis on children: The story of the Word made flesh in Jesus begins with Jesus the babe. The story of Jesus that ends at the cross of Golgotha and the empty tomb begins in a baby’s cries from a feeding trough in a stable for animals. 

Yes, Christmas is by the children and for the children. It is no wonder many of the annual Christmas pageants today are performed by children.

And yet, the story of faith compiled over decades and centuries into what we have in the bible challenges us. What the early Christians give us disrupts our sentimental bias in how we celebrate the Christmas season.

Let’s go back in time a week ago. First, December 21, the shortest day in the northern hemisphere, was traditionally the feast day observed for Saint Thomas, the doubting one, who was martyred in India in the mid first century. Then, December 26 is the feast day for Saint Stephen, whose violent murder at the hands of Jerusalem’s religious we read about in the book of Acts.[1]

And, finally, today, the first Sunday of Christmas, the church commemorates the ‘Holy Innocents’ – the children of Bethlehem – who were murdered at the hands of Herod trying to get at Jesus and eliminate any potential threat to his despotic hold on power.[2]

Not exactly a Christmas observance that brings the warm fuzzies. Why has the tradition included these rather violent and distressing facts about Christian faith so close to Christmas? Wouldn’t we rather put off such disturbing elements until long after the holidays when the kids are back to school and we return to the mundane realities of our lives (when we can ignore the truth of the faith)? Wouldn’t we rather preserve the genteel, Hallmark images cradled in soft-white light where all the children are squealing with delight?

The church, in its wisdom, pierces through our illusions and disrupts our escapism. In compiling the stories of the birth of Jesus, Matthew, the Gospel writer, chose to express a profound care for the children – especially those who suffered under the violent injustices of corrupt and despotic rulers. Matthew will not ignore what happened around Jesus’ birth, but will bring voice to it. Expose it for what it is.

This Christmas story is a very human, and a very real, story of life and death, sin and grace. None of it can be ignored nor dismissed, and certainly not simply in order to cradle our cocktail-numbed minds. The Gospel pours cold water on us and calls us to ‘wake up’ in the face of our reality:

That following Christ will sometimes be a rocky road, to put it mildly – as the ancient martyrs of the faith exemplified by their faithfulness and service. That following Christ will sometimes shock us onto our knees in lamenting the evil in the world – when children elsewhere and in our own communities suffer incredible injustice and violence.

That following Christ will sometimes call us into risky and urgent action that doesn’t give time for proper goodbyes. That following Christ will sometimes call for unconditional grace and acceptance of the stranger – as Egypt welcomed the fleeing holy family refugees from neighboring Judea. 

We don’t care for the children if we turn a blind eye to injustice, especially at Christmas. We don’t care for the children when we insist on avoiding the chaos and upheaval that our faith implies. Christmas isn’t just about sentimentality. It is more about taking responsibility and learning from the witness of the Gospel message.

One element of the storytelling from the Gospel today catches my eye: It is the rapid plot movement. This story reflects anything but a sedate, static tableau:

One moment, the holy family is in Bethlehem being visited upon by the magi; the next moment they are fleeing to Egypt. Then, Herod reacts, is infuriated by the magi’s deception, and sends his murdering squads to Bethlehem. Even though it would have been some time passing until Herod’s death, the story-telling doesn’t permit but a breath before another angel of the Lord comes to Joseph in a dream to ‘get up’ and return his family to the land of Israel. But not to Bethlehem where potential threat still exists, but to Nazareth. And all of this in ten short verses.

The pace of the story-telling itself evokes responsibility, not sentiment – not even a lingering, inert contemplation. Joseph doesn’t even have time to think, just react. And trust himself and especially trust God. The truth of the story is expressed in behavior and action.

The witness of the story-tellers of old have something to say to us, who very much like to sit-back and put-up-our-feet during the Christmas season. Perhaps this word to us is a reminder not to forget to take up the mantle of faith, to do our part in meaningful action and behavior. And be responsible, as the body of Christ, to be Jesus’ hands and feet in the world today.

“For if the babe does not again take flesh in us today, the Bethlehem star is but an optical illusion leading to nothing. 

“If we are not empowered to offer a gift to the one in need, then there are no wise men searching. 

“If there is no praise or joy within our hearts, then there are no angels singing; no shepherds watching.”[3]

May these days of Christmas bring to us a deepened awareness of the care we have and express for this dark, broken world. And in so doing fulfill our responsibility as bearers of the Christ child.

This responsibility is also a gift God gives us at Christmas. It is a gift that is activated in us by the witness of all the saints of old.

[1]Acts 6:8—7:60

[2]Matthew 2:16-18

[3]Bishop Michael Pryse, Christmas Message from Bishop Pryse (www.easternsynod.org, December 24, 2019)