THE REVEREND E. WAYNE ROLLINS

Today's readings give us a lot to consider. The entire book of Nehemiah is about
a servant in the Persian court who is Jewish, and hears that things aren't going well with
his people who have returned to their homeland after exile in Babylon.

Paul's writing to the church in Corinth comes to a group of people who are in
conflict, and many accepted practices are more about pleasing a few instead of being a
people who follow Jesus of Nazareth. But they're new to their faith, and don't yet have
any of the writings we know as the Christian Bible, except for Paul's letters to them.
​
Then there's the Gospel lesson from Luke. Jesus' ministry is just getting started,
and he goes home. Those gathered in the synagogue in Nazareth, which is just about
everyone in town, want to hear what this hometown boy gone bigtime has to say.
Turns out, they don't like it all that much, which is next week's lesson, except that next
Sunday is a major feast day, so we we'll be jumping back in time to just after Jesus'
birth.

Nehemiah asks permission to return to his homeland to assist in the rebuilding
of Jerusalem and Judah. The protective walls around the city are reduced to rubble, its
gates destroyed. Neighboring kingdoms remain a threat, and the returned exiles live in
fear and confusion.

After the walls are rebuilt and the gates put in place, it's time to get to the heart
of the matter. Ezra, a priest and scribe, is assisted by others as he takes a copy of the
Torah and begins reading it to the assembly. Most of those gathered had never heard
these words, the implication being that because they have not been faithful to their
heritage and teaching, life is in turmoil.

They hear these ancient words and begin weeping. But instead of showing
remorse, they are told to go prepare a feast, and to share it with their neighbors. While
the words they hear reveal the reasons why life is difficult, they also tell of God's
unending declaration that they remain God's people. Of course, later in Nehemiah they
have to be reminded of this again, because even in the fifth century before the common
era, old habits died hard.

Paul writes to people who are new to their professed faith, but who continue to
live their old ways. Jealousy, even greed, lead to conflict among them. Getting what
they want seems more important than serving the needs of the less fortunate among
them. They've fallen into the same traps as the Judeans of Nehemiah's time, which is
the same trap set for those first human beings way back in the beginning.

Jesus' hometown folks aren't much different. After reading the appointed lesson
for the day from Isaiah, Jesus sits down, which is Jewish custom, and begins teaching
them by saying "Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing." Most of the time we
follow the example of the folks from Nazareth, and hear these words speaking only
about Jesus. We might even go back several centuries and insist that Isaiah also meant
them about Jesus. I think both interpretations continue the vein begun in the garden,
which means they help keep us from getting the point.

That point is that there continue to be forces around us whose purpose is to
replace the God we gather to worship. They point to cracks in our understanding,
introducing fear and mistrust that grow and cause the fissure to widen. In the garden,
it was questioning the understanding of death. In Nehemiah's time, it was about
security and prosperity, much as it continues to be in our own time. For Paul and the
church in Corinth, it was about their relationships with each other, and with believers in
other places. Again, true in our own time.

And for those in Nazareth, they think that Jesus is only speaking about himself.
He turns their thinking on its head during his short visit, pointing out that their own
history shows that God cares for more than just themselves. Their response is to reject
him and even try to lead him to a cliff to throw him off it. It's a lesson all supply clergy
need to understand in case a warden wants to offer the view from the bell tower after
the service has ended.

The Psalmist gives us a view of God as a pervasive life that enters into all that is,
and that all life in turn points to God. Consider that and hear Isaiah's words in a
different way:

The Spirit of the LORD is upon you,
because God has anointed you
to bring good news to the poor.
He sends you to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the abundant life of God's eternal presence.

What is your reaction to that? Should I be happy that there is no readily
accessible bell tower here? As Paul tries to convince the Corinthians, you are members
of Christ's body, called in your baptism to continue the work of Jesus of Nazareth. So
those words read by Jesus that day also refer to you and to his followers everywhere in
every time. The presence of the Holy Spirit, which is the anointing referred to, is the
very life of God that surrounds us to show us that even in our most troublesome times
and situations, we are never alone.

What that means for us going forward remains to be seen.

THE REVEREND E. WAYNE ROLLINS

There are some comforting words in today’s Gospel lesson. There is what John
calls Jesus’ first miracle, the changing of water into wine at a wedding in Cana. Then
there are the reactions of the surprised stewards, guests, and even the host of the party.
But there’s one more. It’s kind of nice to know that even Jesus had an “Oh, Mom”
moment.


And, of course, there’s more to the story than simply changing water into wine
and hoping that Jesus shows up at your next soiree. John is a gospel full of symbols,
and has been called the “Gospel of Light.” He isn’t interested so much in the events of
Jesus’ life as he is to shed light on what Jesus’ life means to the world, and his life is
from before the world came into being until long after the world as we know it comes to
an end.


The earliest Hebrew prophet, Amos, speaks of life when God is fully present.
One of his signs is that there will be like having an abundance of good wine for
celebrating the life shared together with God at that time. At Cana, water jars that
contain anywhere from 20 to 30 gallons each are filled with the best wine they have ever
tasted. If you’re having flashbacks to college parties, we’ll find a quiet spot for
confession. Also, remember that these are stone jars, hewn from granite or marble or
the like, not formed by human hands from clay, which means the jars themselves did
not require purification.


Okay. Before we get side-tracked by a hermeneutical sommelier, let me reiterate
John’s use of symbols. He tells us of an almost insane abundance of wine, yes, but he’s
not really talking about wine any more than he’s wanting to talk about the benefits of
marriage here. So I’m going to need to serve some strong coffee by way of
interpretation.


One important aspect of stories of Jesus’ miraculous healing and feeding is to get
our attention focused on a hoped-for reality. Scholars call it eschatology, which means
it’s about a time to come when we are fully present with God through the saving work
of Jesus of Nazareth. In his human life, Jesus showed those around him what life is like
when God is fully present. And to be fully present in first-century Palestine, that meant
taking on human form, or, as John tells it, “becoming flesh.” I’ll point you to the
prologue of his gospel for further edification.


Paul tells the church in Corinth that they are the Body of Christ—together and
not individually. They each have “spiritual gifts” that work together for the good of the
whole body, the community of believers. And they exist in the world to share the
abundance of life they find in Christ Jesus, a life that reaches into the dark places of
1their world to shed a gospel of light, of good news, that offers the wine of redemption in
all its extravagant possibilities. They are, to use Amos’s words, to be like wine running
down the hillsides as a sign of God’s redemption. Each gift, like the miracles of Jesus,
reveals God’s presence in the ordinary events of life. They are best witnessed without
forward planning or attention to detail. That’s how God works, using the ordinary in
order to achieve the extraordinary.


One of my favorite movies is one entitled Babette’s Feast. A refugee from Paris,
also a renowned chef, finds herself in the employ of an austere family whose much
revered father was a very strict and, shall we say, frugal, pastor. The chef, Babette, wins
a lottery, and decides to spend it all on a lavish feast for her hosts and their guest. She
buys food, china, silver, crystal, and expensive wines for the one-time event, spending
about 25,000 francs.


The family, not wanting to insult their chef, is torn over whether to accept the
gift, and if accepted, whether to show any sign of possible enjoyment of it. Their usual
demeanor is one that seems to say the eleventh commandment is “Thou shalt not
smile.” Their expressions during the meal are a wonderful part of the movie, and to
their surprise, their guest, who is a well-travelled military man, recognizes one rare dish
that was prepared only in one exclusive restaurant in Paris by their renowned chef.
​
Finally, the feast is done, and a brother in the family begins to make his way
home while under the “inspiration” of an abundance of good food and wine. He
wanders into the street, pretty much feeling neither pain nor remorse, and finds he can
no longer contain his joy. But, even while remembering his upbringing, a silly grin
overtakes his face and he looks to the stars and whispers, “Alleluia!”


I wonder if we’re much like that family when we consider our own spiritual gifts,
thinking that they’re not important, or even necessary or desirable to others. Along
with that, I wonder whether they’ll be accepted as some of the “really good stuff”
ordinarily set aside for special occasions.


So consider that our spiritual gifts, and our use of them, are not to draw attention
to ourselves, but to reveal that in some way God is again present in God’s creation.
Maybe not in God’s fullness as it was in Cana that day, but in a way that God is made
known. It could surprise all of us, even as a friend’s family was surprised when I
showed up at his father’s wake wearing a clerical collar. They didn’t even bother to ask
how we knew each other, as they were so surprised that my friend knew a priest. Or
maybe it was that a priest would admit that friendship in public. Go figure.


The wine of abundant life is waiting for us to take a sip, and to offer it to others.
Our task is to try to empty the jar that never runs dry.

THE REVEREND E. WAYNE ROLLINS

Today is the Feast of the Baptism of our Lord. We find ourselves standing at
water’s edge, with all we think we know and believe about Jesus of Nazareth, and
wonder why he would need to be baptized by John.

John wonders the same thing in some versions of this story, so we’re in fairly
good company here. Although John will later ask if Jesus is the one they’ve been
hoping for, at the Jordan he thinks the roles are reversed. Luke doesn’t give us those
details. We just hear that Jesus was baptized, and God’s announcement.

But that announcement is not just about Jesus. Let’s go back to Isaiah’s words.
These are from the second prophet named Isaiah, to a people gathered in exile who are
soon to be released and told to go back to their homeland. Their homes and way of life,
including Temple worship, are no more. They still live in a foreign land, which just
happens to be in the same region that we’re taught is the site of our earliest civilizations.
It’s the land of ancient Mesopotamia, near the confluence of the Tigris and Euphrates
Rivers. I’ll let your minds wander back to elementary history to ponder that.

There is, I think, a typographical error in our translation of the first verse in
today’s first lesson. The translators of the New Revised Standard Version carried on the
tradition begun with the King James Version, the first “authorized” English translation
of scripture. By “authorized,” I mean that those who worked on it weren’t threatened
with beheading or burning at the stake for their work to make scripture available to
anyone who could read the same language they spoke. The king, James I, gave
permission for the work to be done. Another story, another time.

Look at that verse from Isaiah. Where it says “I have called you by name, you
are mine” I want you to imagine the word “mine” with a capital “M.” It’s not so much
possessive as it is a proper name. A noun. The prophet reminds those lost in exile who
they are to God. On this day when we celebrate the baptism of Jesus, it’s who he is.
And, as we will remind ourselves in a few minutes, it’s who we are.

Think about that. Remember those times when you seemed to be lost in the
confusion of life’s changes. A manager tells you that you will be moving to a new
location within the month. They need you there so the business can continue its work.
A doctor gives you a diagnosis. No, it can’t be true, even if it turns out to be good news.
I’ve been told that my mother argued with the doctor for several minutes when she
learned my younger brother was on the way. What she might have hoped was just a
virus is now a senior citizen. My earliest memories are of them looking at the house I
grew up in to make room for his arrival, and then bringing him home from the hospital
a few days after his birth.

1Today, I want you to consider what the name “Mine” means in the life of this
parish. We are baptized into this community of the faithful, raised as disciples in the
life and teaching and manner of life of Jesus of Nazareth. But when life throws a curve
our way, what does the name “Mine” mean to us?

I’ve told you my story of being a social worker and walking through the
darkness to a subsidized apartment to help a single mother as she worked to raise her
two young sons. Many street lights were out in this area deemed unimportant by local
leaders. Voices in the darkness made me fearful for my own safety. But then a voice
said “because Jesus lives, you can do this.”

You are Mine. Capital M. Because of that, it doesn’t matter, in the long run,
what others try to do. The apostle Paul faced that same decision when he kept telling
others that Jesus lives even after Paul had been ordered to stop doing that, because it
conflicted with Roman teaching that the emperor was a god. But Paul continued, and it
eventually cost him his life when, exercising his right as a Roman citizen, he appealed
his sentence to the emperor Nero.

You are Mine. You are baptized into the life and death and resurrection of Jesus
of Nazareth. Yes, it may cause some conflict, some trouble now because there are any
number of other gods competing for our worship. But in the long run, in the big
picture, what does it mean? Our life as a parish will depend on how we answer that
question. God has an eternity for us to answer it. We might not want to take that long.
But as we consider our answers, let’s take some time together to talk about them.
There’s a large community beyond these walls who might be wanting to hear what we
say.

The name “Mine,” given to us in the name of our Creator at baptism, means that
so much that might occupy our time and thoughts may not be as significant as we want.
It also means that the difficult events and times may diminish in their perspective. “You
are Mine” means that our life together isn’t so much about repeating past memories, no
matter how pleasing they are. “You are Mine” is our identity meant to be lived in our
lives going forward, not just in remembrances of things past. After all, the meaning of
“Mine” back then may not be the same as it is today, and today’s definition may not fit
tomorrow.
​
That is, until the time when tomorrow becomes the now that lasts forever. Then,
the name Mine will be our welcome home. May God be as well pleased then as on that
day beside the Jordan River.

It seems a bit confusing to hear today’s Gospel lesson on this, the last day of the
Christmas Season, otherwise known as “twelve drummers drumming day.” Tomorrow
is the Feast of the Epiphany, when we read Matthew’s account of the magi following
the star and offering gifts to the Christ child. But today, we hear about them leaving,
and what’s known as the flight into Egypt.


A rather gruesome part of the story is omitted. It would have been read on
December 28, Holy Innocents Day. Herod is angry that he’s been thwarted by the wise
men, so he orders all boys under two years of age to be killed, just to cover his bases
and satisfy his paranoia. One aspect of that story is that it occurs in Ramah, and we’re
told a mother, Rachel, cries for her lost children. Mothers in Ramah, not far from
Bethlehem and also in the West Bank area, continue to do that today due to the actions
of a few Herod-like rulers. And while there’s no documentation of Herod’s actions
outside of Matthew’s story, there’s plenty of it about actions taken—or not taken—in
our own time.


Unlike Luke, Matthew doesn’t seem to be all that interested in the birth story of
Jesus. Yes, our editing of the story for our pageants and carol services includes both.
But Matthew has another purpose in mind. He’s writing to people of Jewish ancestry
and faith, a few decades after the destruction of Jerusalem by the Romans. Matthew
wants to convince his readers that their tradition, their faith, continues in the life and
work of Jesus of Nazareth, even as it takes on new meaning.


Jesus is a type of Moses, and even the embodiment of Israel, in Matthew’s telling.
He is exiled to Egypt, and then returns home. He gives his initial teaching on a hillside,
with the Beatitudes coming as a type of commandment given by this new law-giver.
But there’s no intermediary now as was necessary with Moses. This teaching comes
straight from the one giving it, not through a leader who isn’t even allowed to stand
face-to-face with God. In Jesus of Nazareth, God now has a face we can gaze upon and
not only live, but find life beyond our most hope-filled dreams in our seeing of its truth.
This Jesus whom we gather to praise will offer much. In return, he asks only one
thing from us: our lives, given in grateful discipleship as we are led from slavery to sin
and its consequential spiritual death into sharing the eternal life that comes from God.
It’s not only Moses who can be recognized in the life of Jesus. Jeremiah’s
prophecy begins to be fulfilled in this child growing up in Nazareth. The words of
today’s Psalm take on new meaning as we begin to understand that God’s dwelling is
not a building designed and built by human hands, but a person created in God’s image
1whose very life reveals the purpose and ongoing creative activity of God. And that’s
not limited just to Jesus. It includes all who claim faith in who he is.


We who are baptized into the life and death of Jesus of Nazareth are invited to
live in his resurrection—not at some time to come, but here and now, after we are led
from our own exile of false idolatry into new life in the living Christ. We, together, and
not individually, are the place where God lives, each of us perhaps like a room with its
own purpose and ability to sustain and share life, each decorated with gifts and graces,
as our Methodist siblings say, that show aspects of faith that are too numerous for one
of us to reveal by ourselves.


And, like those wise men in the part of the story you might have thought you’d
hear today, we have our own gold, frankincense, and, yes, myrrh to offer. We have an
abundance of riches to give when needed. We have prayers and praises wafting into
the ether, their aroma rising to God as we offer them. And, we have our troubles and
sorrows to offer as well, seeking not just healing, but a sign of life beyond their present
ills. We call that “hope.”


We can see all those things in ourselves and in others, here and beyond these
walls. Or we can remain in exile, a captive in all kinds of Egypts available to us, and
deny God’s goodness and mercy made known in the very human, very divine life of
Jesus of Nazareth.


Maybe those twelve drummers will get our attention, and lead us onward in the
parade of the forgiven and redeemed. And may we reach out and help others join in
the celebration of life offered to us as we offer it back in praise and gratitude. Our
continuing life together is the story of how we make that happen. Just be sure to follow
the true star.