Monday marks the 75th anniversary of the liberation of the Auschwitz concentration camp. Today world leaders are gathered in Israel to remember this somber anniversary.
At the 3-minute mark in the linked video, we hear: "The Holocaust was caused by people. It wasn't a cosmic event, and it wasn't monsters. It was human beings who were motivated by ideas more than anything else."
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https://www.cnn.com/videos/world/2020/01/23/holocaust-remembrance-day-75th-anniversary-yad-vashem-jerusalem-sidner-pkg-intl-ldn-vpx.cnn/video/playlists/intl-stories-worth-watching/

As church we have an important connection with people and ideas. On Sunday we will pause and remember the human depravity of Auschwitz and also the continuing Antisemitism that is on the rise in our world, and in our nation. Hopefully, when enough of us share the message of the universal, human family we can help protect ourselves from this sort of evil.
Rev. Randy

“May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.” (Ps 19:14)

A while back I was reading an article about a family on a ski-trip in Maine.  The family had been skiing all day and were starting to drive back to their hotel.  The father typed in the address of their lodging and off they went trusting their adventure to the handy guidance system in the car. 

He probably did what a lot of us do.  He chose the “quickest route” option.  Doing what it was told, the GPS was ready to send this guy down a logging road because it was the most direct route between the slopes and the hotel. 

I wish it wasn’t the father, but it was.  They all saw the signs that warned the logging road was closed for the winter, but the father disregarded the signs and figured that it didn’t look all that bad.

You already know what happened.  Deep into the Maine woods they got stuck. 

The father had a choice to make while driving.  What was he going to follow?  The GPS that promised the quickest way back, or was he going to follow the directions on the sign that warned the road was closed? 

He had probably already committed himself to the GPS by the time he saw the sign about the road closure.  He’d have to backtrack who knows how far to get to an alternate route.  He chose the “quickest route” option on the GPS, and backtracking would be just the opposite.  So he chose to keep the course that he had already invested in rather than make a change.  

All right.  Now let’s go to this morning’s Gospel.  This is a different baptism story than the one we heard last Sunday, and if you want to talk more about that, think about coming to Bible study tomorrow evening.  But for now, let’s just stick to the way John tells it.

We’re again out with John the Baptist in the wilderness around the Jordan River.  One day John sees Jesus and praises Him as the “Lamb of God” and the “Son of God.” 

The next day the same thing happens again.  Hearing this for the second time, two of John’s disciples make the difficult choice to change course and follow Jesus. 

I don’t know how closely you were paying attention to the Gospel reading, but there were two of John’s followers who decided to change course and follow Jesus.  One is Andrew and the other is left unnamed. 

John the Evangelist does this on purpose.  He didn’t forget the name.  He intentionally leaves the other disciple unnamed because we here are that other unnamed disciple.  This happens throughout his Gospel.  John isn’t sharing with us a history of somebody else’s story.  He’s telling us our story of choice.  Will we choose to follow the timeless Jesus or will we stick to the course told to us?  

There are many warning signs posted that the way of the world is a dangerous drive.  All we need to do is pay attention.  Sometimes the violence, greed and lack of compassion get so bad I have to take a break from the news.  It’s too depressing and bleak.

Every Communion Sunday, on the other hand, we share in a prayer of thanksgiving when we say together:  “For the vision of the day when sharing by all will mean scarcity for none.”  That is pure gospel, pure good news.  This is why it is shared around the Communion Table.  Even if we’re only slightly familiar with the New Testament, this prayer sounds like Jesus.

Today is the Sunday within the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity.  Every year at this time Christians and their churches are asked to pray for unity.  Unity is not the same as uniformity.  We don’t all have to be the same, but we all need to respect each other as one in Christ.

Remember when I mentioned that John’s Gospel-story of Jesus’ baptism is not the same as the one we shared last week from Matthew.  There have been differences in our faith ever since there was our faith, but those differences didn’t separate us.  One Gospel follows another in the New Testament.  They see Jesus differently, but they stand together.  That’s what Christian unity is all about.

The theme of this year’s Week of Prayer is drawn from the last chapter of the Acts of the Apostles.  Paul is being transported by sea to Rome to there stand trial for his faith.  During the voyage, he is shipwrecked in a storm and the survivors wash up on the shores of the island of Malta. 

The people there show these strangers “unusual kindness,” and that New Testament passage has been chosen as the overall theme of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity because in our world today, all of the different Christian churches of the World Council of Churches agree, kindness is unusual. 

There is a mean-spiritedness that abounds.  Separation and division are the ways of the world.  Kindness is unusual.  Jesus, though, is another route.  Following Jesus is asking us to show “unusual kindness.”  It’s our choice which road to follow:  the world’s or Jesus.

Just like that unnamed disciple, who is us really, we have a choice to make.  Do we continue to follow the course told to us or do we choose to take another route and turn around and follow Jesus? 

Remember what Amy read for us from First Corinthians:  “[We] are called to be saints, together with all those who in every place call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, both their Lord and ours.” 

We’re all called to be saints, and it’s all about the choices we make every day on what road to follow.  May we, like that unnamed disciple, choose to follow Jesus, and a big part of this is to embrace “unusual kindness.”  In His name we pray.  Amen.

“May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.” (Ps 19:14)

The other day I emailed my daughters to let them know that they should think about getting a refund for one of the Christmas gifts they gave me.  I mentioned that the gift was broken, that it hadn’t worked since I received it.

The gift was a pair of socks.  On the bottom of one sock it reads, “If you can see this,” and on the bottom of the other it says, “Bring me a cup of tea.”  Well, I’ve had my feet up a couple of times already wearing those socks around the house and Sharon never, not once, ever bothered to bring me a cup of tea, and I know darn well that she could see what was printed on my socks.  So obviously the socks must be broken.

We all know that’s not the way things work.  That’s what makes the socks funny rather than Sharon beating me up every time I wear them and point out that I’m expecting my cup of tea.  This is probably also why Sharon is away for a girls’ weekend in Boston today.  You can only take so much of this.

It’s not only what we believe, it’s not only what we claim, it’s not only what we hope, it’s what we do that makes things happen.  But the two can’t be completely separated either. 

Our aspirations hopefully drive our actions.  They inspire us.  And this is where faith and church feed each other.  What our faith believes gives us the motivation for our church to act, and in turn, the life of the church inspires what we believe.

Think about the story in today’s Gospel of Jesus’ baptism.  We don’t know much of anything about Jesus’ life before He goes public.  The oldest Gospel, Mark’s, does refer to Jesus as a carpenter.  This implies that as Jesus reached the age of young adulthood He was still a working man up in the village of Nazareth in the area called Galilee.

He’s not satisfied though.  He knows He’s called to do something else, something more, but if we allow ourselves to be honest with the story, Jesus doesn’t seem to know exactly what that something else is.

It’s winter.  It’s going to be a cold 70 degrees outside this January afternoon.  But if you get the chance when it does get colder and you want to sit inside with your “bring me a cup of tea” socks on, think about grabbing Christopher Moore’s book Lamb.  It was recommended to me by a couple of clergy friends at the last Conference Annual Meeting in November. 

I was skeptical before I started reading it.  I was skeptical as I started reading it.  But it turned into an actual eye-opener.  It’s a fanciful tale.  It’s even a bit mischievous in the way it treats Jesus’ story.  But its intent is right on the mark.  It brings out the human nature in Jesus so that it is not completely overshadowed by Jesus’ divine nature.

Again, it’s a fanciful story, but when it’s read with a background context of the Gospel stories, it helps the reader to wonder again at the amazing journey for Jesus of Nazareth to reach the realization of who He really is and what He is called to do. 

The story emphasizes that while Jesus was always faithful in the search, it was never easy or obvious.  

This struggle to find meaning led Jesus out of His carpentry shop in Nazareth and brought Him out into the wilderness of Judea to a group of seekers who had gathered around a strange prophetic character everyone was calling John the Baptist.

John, as we mentioned during Advent, left behind a privileged life as a Jerusalem priest.  He traveled out into the desert because he was disgusted with the ways of the world.  And there he preached about a coming kingdom that was going to force out the old order so that the new could come barging in.

Jesus walked away from His old life and literally walked all the way from Nazareth to Judea, about a five-day journey, just to be a part of this community of seekers. 

This is why we can’t make light of Jesus’ spiritual journey.  It wasn’t simple and straight-forward.  It was laboured. 

All of this had taken place before Jesus asked to be baptized by John.  This is important to remember because of the revelation that occurs at His baptism.  The Father in heaven speaks:  “‘This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’” 

The bewilderment of “my Son, the Beloved” drives Jesus further out into the desert where He will stay for 40 days, but that’s a story for Lent, not for now. 

What I want to speak about today is that Jesus hasn’t even started to do the work of His public ministry.  He hasn’t preached one word, performed one miracle, called one disciple, and yet the Father is well pleased. 

The Father is pleased because Jesus has made Himself open and available to the work that will be done.  Sometimes we may forget that the first step in doing the work of God is to make ourselves available to God.

It’s not enough to think about what we can do.  It’s to trust what we can do with God.

The church, just like John the Baptist, is an alternative to the way the world is.  The church is a place for seekers who believe in something different.  We’re called here just like the crowds were called to come out to John.

God is pleased not only with what we accomplish, but with our willingness to make ourselves available.

Nothing we do as church is small or inconsequential.  It is the work of God. 

It’s not like putting on my tea-socks and waiting for the tea to come to me.  The work of God begins when are willing to go to God and to be open to what He would have us do.

Not only what we think we can do, but what becomes possible when we trust in what God can do with us and through us.

May we all make ourselves available for the work of God so that God may be well pleased with us, His sons and daughters.  In Jesus’ name we pray.  Amen.

“May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.” (Ps 19:14)

I am really fortunate around Christmas because I only have to buy one present.  I am not a good shopper.  Sharon takes care of choosing all the gifts we need to give.  Sometimes she’ll ask my opinion about option one or two, but if I choose incorrectly, I quickly pick up the signal and change my mind.  

So the only gift I need to buy, is for Sharon. 

I know a lot of you are not big winter snow fans, but Sharon and I like this small company called Vermont Snowflakes.  They produce prints and jewelry based on the photographs of Wilson Bentley who took beautiful pictures of delicate, intricate, individual snowflakes.  Every year they send us a gift catalog. 

As I thumbed through it, a little bracelet of snowflake charms caught my eye.  I called in my order and after about five minutes I was all done with my Christmas shopping.  The package arrived. I hid it away.  Then on Christmas morning I snuck it into Sharon’s stocking.

We all start opening our presents and Sharon is watching all the homeruns she hit with the gifts she chose for our daughters and me.  I ask her when she’s going to open her stocking.  She reaches in and pulls out the box, opens it up, looks at the bracelet for a couple of seconds, and then tells me, “Randy, you bought the same bracelet for me three years ago.”

I had one thing to buy for Christmas and I messed it up.  Wouldn’t it be great if our Christmases could be as perfect as Jesus’ Christmas?  Angel choruses, heavenly stars, fancy gifts brought right to the doorstep like gold, frankincense and myrrh.  But Jesus had God on His side.  Of course there wouldn’t be anything to spoil Jesus’ Christmas.

But just like Luke went out of his way to make sure we understood that Jesus was born as one of us, Matthew does the same in his own way.  He tells us the story of the Magi.  They arrive in Jerusalem, the capital city, and ask the king – of all people – where the newborn “king of the Jews” was born.  Well, if you’re the king, and a paranoid tyrant of a king at that, you don’t welcome inquiries about some newborn king. 

Herod tries to trick the Magi and he tells them that when they discover this newborn king that they should return to him with the news.  He wants to go and honour the child, as well.  But when the Magi are warned against doing this, Herod, the mad, paranoid tyrant that he was, simply orders all of the boys murdered in Bethlehem two years old and younger.  If Herod can’t discover the one newborn king, he’ll just kill all the newborns.  Problem solved.

This sadistic tragedy is just as much a part of Jesus’ Christmas story as the angels, stars and Magis’ gifts.  Joseph must flee by night with his family.  The toddler-Jesus is taken secretly to a foreign land.  The Holy Family must seek refuge in Egypt, away from this maniac king. 

Even when the king dies, Joseph can’t return to his home in Bethlehem because another Herod is now on the throne, and maybe the son is just as crazy as was the father.  Joseph must seek refuge far to the north in a nondescript, common, forgettable village called Nazareth.

Matthew writes to make sure that we know Jesus’ Christmas story was far from idyllic.  It’s no fairy tale.  Christmas tells of a unique birth, but not one without connection to all of us.

Matthew writes for a people who know the harshness of life and the vagaries of powerful people.  Matthew’s readers often find themselves at the mercy of events and people far beyond their control.  They suffer in many accidental and even intentional ways.  Their lives are hard.  Pain and sorrow are not uncommon. 

To these people, and to us still today, Matthew tells the story of Jesus’ Christmas, a story that lets us know that from the very beginning Jesus wasn’t protected from the world’s accidental or intentional cruelties, that Jesus faced the same reality as the rest of us must. 

I think Matthew’s intention is to bring us closer to Christ, and hopefully to each other by sharing this story.  Matthew is trying to stress our shared humanity. 

We live at a time of increasing division.  Another attack on a Jewish family in the New York City area simply because they are Jewish.  Stereotypes are shared loudly.  We look past our shared humanity and emphasize what separates us.  I don’t think we like this kind of world, but we tolerate it and then it becomes more acceptable, that is unless we choose to act and speak differently.

Jesus escaped by the skin of His teeth when the holy innocents of Bethlehem were targeted with violence because of where they were born.  This is not a story about Jesus alone; this is a shared story for too many.  People are judged all the time not for who they are, but where they’re from.

Matthew’s Christmas story offers us a choice to tolerate the kind of world where this is practiced or to stand up for Jesus and everyone in similar circumstance.

Christmas is the celebration of God’s coming among us in Jesus, and it’s also the challenge of God coming among us in Jesus.  What kind of world do we choose?  What will we work toward? 

Christmas doesn’t shy away from telling us the harsh reality that even Jesus faced, but Christmas doesn’t accept it as inevitable either.  And that’s the challenge for us.  Will we tolerate the meanness of the world or will we seek to build something better?

The beautiful words we heard Marcia read from Psalm 148 can be heartfelt, but it’s going to take our choice to make them more than a Sunday morning prayer. 

Christmas is about the sanctity of the world and all its people.  Sometimes it’s harder to see than other times, but we shouldn’t grow so discouraged as to give up because Jesus didn’t, and Christmas promises that He is with us as us.

May our continuing Christmas prayer be that we look for the good in people and in us, in Jesus’ name.  Amen.

“May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.” (Ps 19:14)

I enjoy visiting Portsmouth, New Hampshire, and one of the reasons is its history.  I like the old buildings and their stories.  One of those stories is about Ona Judge.  Ona was the daughter of a biracial woman and a white man, and Ona was also a slave, a person owned by Martha Washington.

Because Ona was of such light skin, because both her grandmother and mother were raped by “honourable” white men, the President’s wife chose her to be her personal slave.  She accompanied Martha Washington to official functions, on social visits and shopping trips, and assisted her when entertaining at the President’s House in Philadelphia. 

I’m certain that Mrs. Washington thought that Ona should be happy and even proud to be able to serve in these ways, since after all she was just a slave.  I’m quite sure that Martha never imagined that Ona resented being owned and locked in this gilded cage.

This is why Mrs. Washington was so infuriated when on the night of May 21, 1796 Ona escaped.  Martha took this as a personal insult after all she had done for Ona.  The President’s wife placed newspaper ads seeking the return of her property, this woman named Ona, and she offered a reward to make sure that people took her seriously.  Until the day she died, Mrs. Washington sought Ona’s capture and return as her property.

Ona escaped to the seaport community of Portsmouth.  She worked there to support herself by hauling water, ironing, doing laundry and cooking.  These were far more menial tasks than she performed as Mrs. Washington’s slave, but Ona chose this life over her previous one because she was free. 

Martha Washington thought she loved Ona and that Ona loved her, but that love was as real as that of those white men who had raped her grandmother and mother.

I share Ona’s story this morning because today is the Advent Sunday dedicated to love, a real love, a love manifested perfectly in the coming birth of the Bethlehem baby.  When God chose to enter the world in Jesus, He could have come any way He wanted.

God chose to be born in the humbleness and vulnerability of a homeless and nation-less family.  God chose to be born in the poverty of swaddling clothes.  God chose to come in the weakness of an infant with no pretense of power in the least.  God chose to come in a love offered freely to everyone, without precondition.  God chose to come into the world without distinction so that He could embrace everyone.

Martha Washington thought that favours granted her slave made the slave love her, but Ona Judge risked everything to escape from Martha Washington.

Mrs. Washington supposed that she deserved better for treating the slave less like a slave, but Ona always knew that she was and always would be a slave to Martha.

Martha’s favours never changed her thinking that Ona was a possession.  Ona was a special possession, but still a possession.  Being treated better than others by a master does not erase the fact that the master still owns you. 

Just as Martha could love a favourite set of china or a silk dress, she could love Ona.  But Ona knew that this was not the love of one person for another.  This was not a love that Ona could choose to accept or to give.  She could only be loved as long as she acted exactly as Martha Washington commanded, and a forced love is really not love.

We do God no favours when we forget this and go back to teaching about a commanded-love, that God loves us only because we do what we’re told to do and if we don’t, then we can burn forever. 

This is not a very inspiring or sincere expression of love, and it is not the love we honour today. 

In the Gospel we heard the Evangelist Matthew quoting Isaiah:  “‘The virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel, which means, “God with us.”’” 

Not God with some of us, not God with us only when we obey, but God with us. 

Jesus’ birth is the opposite of a commanded-love.  It is empathy.  It is God becoming one of us.   

The wonder and awe of Christmas is that the birth of Jesus changes everything.  God is asking for more than a love we can’t refuse.  In Jesus, God is asking us to choose love.

How about this:  until Christmas, let’s pray boldly.  Let’s call on God to come among us.  Let’s ask God to shine on every person and every place that needs the light of his unfamiliar love.  And let’s ask that this love may inspire us to love like God loves.

Christ is Immanuel, God with us.  May we choose to be with Him as we celebrate this wondrous mystery of God’s perfect love.  And may His unfamiliar love infect us and grant us the willingness to choose love.  In Jesus’ name we pray.  Amen.

  Last Sunday's preached sermon was not the same as the printed one.  Seeing "A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood" the night before church, changed everything.
   This Sunday I didn't preach the prepared and printed sermon so that I could speak to the congregation as we grieved a shared loss.  It was an in-house sermon.
    It was based on the description in Matthew's Gospel that John the Baptist may have died not knowing whether or not Jesus was the Messiah, and still God was able to use him to prepare the way for Jesus and His ministry.  Sometimes when we can't see how, God is still near, God is still working.
   We have every plan and good intention to tape next Sunday's Service and share it on our website.
    Thank you. 
​    Rev. Randy