Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

[Jesus said:] 1 “Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your God in heaven.

 2 “So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Very truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 3 But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4 so that your alms may be done in secret; and God who sees in secret will reward you.

 5 “And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Very truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 6 But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to God who is in secret; and God who sees in secret will reward you.

 16 “And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Very truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 17 But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, 18 so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by God who is in secret; and God who sees in secret will reward you.

 19 “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; 20 but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

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Please pray with me this evening, church.

Holy One,

As we embark on our Lenten pilgrimage,

our hearts hunger to hear something true.

Something true about us.

Something true about who we are to you.

Remind us that we are dust, God.

Remind us that we are loved.

Remind us that we are yours.

Amen.

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What a way to step back into the pulpit, huh…?

Ash Wednesday seems like an odd way to start back from my time of parental leave (Thank you, church, by the way…I’ve indeed missed you and it’s good to be back…so let’s talk about death, huh!?) An odd way to start back…and yet…I suppose Ash Wednesday is a beginning of sorts… We mark the beginning of our entry into the season of Lent, our starting point as we embark upon this 40 day journey.

Welcome to the beginning.

A beginning when we talk about the ending.

“Remember that you are only dust…and to dust you will return…”

Having recently borne witness to new life being brought into the world…perhaps due to my pastoral sensibilities or something, I’m not sure, but I couldn’t help but be reminded that in just the next building over, there was someone or several someones fighting for their life. And that at the very moment, our brand new son cried out for the first time, someone else took their last breath.

Death is just as much a part of our lives as birth, yet I think we tend to overemphasize one in our consciousness and downplay the other. Perhaps because from the moment we’re born, we begin the methodical and inevitable march toward our ending. Maybe it’s the billions spent on death avoidance and reversing this trek toward inevitability. Whatever the reason, it is true that death may be a more constant reminder for some than for others.

But today, everyone…from newborns to the eldest among us will hear the same words: “Remember, o mortal one, that you are dust…and to dust you will return.”

Something true about us. But also a promise.

This season of Lent, we’re going to be exploring the idea of hunger. Less of a physical or material hunger, and more of a spiritual hunger, although we will talk some about physical hunger. Fasting, of course, being one of the traditional Lenten practices. Throughout the next 40 days, we’ll talk about our hunger to be known, and our hunger to be loved, among others.

Tonight I thought we’d zero in on our hunger to be told something true about ourselves.

There’s a terrifying moment that happens in the hospital room about 24 hours or so after one has welcomed a new child into the world. All the while you’ve been collecting stacks and packets of papers and information, and all of a sudden a nurse comes in and hands you a new packet and tells you this is the information that will go in a database somewhere and is for the new baby’s birth certificate. And there’s a moment of terror when you—you, in your no-longer-a-young-person-but-not-quite-middle-aged self—are given the gargantuan burden of naming something. Like, permanently.

Maybe you and your partner talked it over months ago. Maybe you waited for inspiration to strike before making such a decision. But at any rate, now it’s time. You have to write something down and that is, at least for now, what this brand-new wonderful child will be called.

This is who you are.

It’s a profound responsibility.

I also want to note how much has changed in the three and a half years since we did this the first time. Three and a half years ago, these were paper forms and so my fear was magnified by worrying if some poor clerk behind a desk would be able to read my chicken scratches. Now it’s all online, so my fears were magnified by the worry that I’d fat-finger something on my phone and they wouldn’t release us with the kid because the last names don’t match.

But in the midst of all the worry and fear and anxiety, there’s something beautiful happening…speaking something into existence. This is who you are.

What is your name, child of God?

How do you call yourself?

What are the words that you say about yourself? Are they kind? Or are they more harsh?

What do you imagine God says about you?

We do have a hunger to be told something true about ourselves.

Remember, o mortal one, that you are dust…and to dust you will return.

In a moment, I’m going to invite you into our shared journey of Lent with Confession and a word of promise. I’m going to say the words, “I invite you, therefore, to the discipline of Lent.”

The discipline of Lent. The practice of Lent.

Church, I encourage you to practice Lent this year. Use this set-aside time as an opportunity to set aside time to practice something new or different for you. The traditional Lenten practices are prayer, and fasting, works of charity, and the giving of alms to the poor. How will you practice Lent this year?

Maybe you’ll set aside 10 minutes each morning to pray. Maybe you’ll try out a new devotional and read and reflect and pray over your lunch break. Maybe you’ll commit to 1 or 2 or 3 hours a week at a new volunteer opportunity for you. Maybe the East Fort Bend Human Needs Ministry Resale Shop or Food Pantry is looking just for you to help them out a time or two each week. Maybe you’d like to try packing fresh fruits and veggies for students and their families at Armstrong Elementary through their Brighter Bites program every Wednesday morning. Maybe you’ll fast from harsh rhetoric of yourself. Or harsh rhetoric of your neighbor who doesn’t think like you or believe all the same things as you…maybe you’ll fast from those disparaging comments, either online or face-to-face or behind their back, but instead interpret everything your neighbor does or says in the best possible light.

Lent is that opportunity, church.

To practice living into who you are. And who God says you are.

You are beloved. You are beautiful.

You are fearfully and wonderfully made.

You are redeemed. You are saved.

You are dust.

Dust that God scoops up from the ground, forms, molds, and creates, and breathes life into.

You are dust.

Matthew 2:13-23

13 Now after the magi had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” 14 Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, 15 and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, “Out of Egypt I have called my son.”

 16 When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the magi, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the magi. 17 Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah:

 18 “A voice was heard in Ramah,

  wailing and loud lamentation,

 Rachel weeping for her children;

  she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.”

 19 When Herod died, an angel of the Lord suddenly appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, 20 “Get up, take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who were seeking the child’s life are dead.” 21 Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. 22 But when Joseph heard that Archelaus was ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. And after being warned in a dream, he went away to the district of the Galilee. 23 There Joseph made his home in a town called Nazareth, so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled, “He will be called a Nazorean.”

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

God of new beginnings,

As we begin a new year,

Nurture in us that which is good

And pleasing to you.

Seeds of compassion. Of understanding.

Of love.

Amen.

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Merry Christmas…and Happy New Year, church!

How are those resolutions coming? Anyone joined me in breaking some of your resolutions already? Don’t worry, it’s still early…

I wonder what your resolutions look like for you this year?

It’s not often that we get to start the year, right off the bat, with worship and praise.

Feels pretty good…

In addition to all the big feast and festival days that you all know well in the Church calendar, there are also other feast days, other festival days, other saint days, other commemorations, throughout the year that are less well known in the church, broadly. And the Church calendar has a series of 3 feast days that immediately follow the Nativity of our Lord, or Christmas, on December 25. They are the Feast of St. Stephen on December 26, the Feast of St. John on December 27, and the Feast Day of the Holy Innocents on December 28.

These three feast days, these days following Christmas are collectively known as the Comites Christi, which is Latin for the “Companions of Christ.” They are the ones whose lives and stories stand closest to Christ and are given special places of honor closest to Christ’s birth.

St. Stephen was a deacon in the early church and the first martyr of the faith, died within a year or two after the death of Jesus, stoned for speaking out against the religious authorities and professing Jesus as Lord and Savior. St. John was the only apostle said to have lived a full life and died of old age, commonly thought to be the “disciple whom Jesus loved” and the attributed author of the fourth gospel account.

A life cut drastically short. And a life lived in all its fullness.

And the Holy Innocents are the young children we hear about today in our Gospel reading. Lives taken before they’re even allowed to begin.

Tradition says that the Holy Innocents were the children of Bethlehem who were slaughtered by order of King Herod in his attempt to kill the infant Jesus – the one who it was said was born to be “King of the Judeans.” And the reason Herod the Great ordered the massacre of the children of Bethlehem was because Herod was the one put in the position of power by the Roman Empire as king of Judea. So when the wise persons who we’ll talk about next week came talking about a star and this child who was said to be born “King of the Judeans”…Herod goes full-on paranoid. Because once you’re made king, being king is not a position of power that’s often willingly given up.

So this feast day, remembers the ones that died because of Jesus’ birth—some numbers suggest as many as fourteen thousand.

There is no record of this event outside of the Gospel of Matthew, but given what we do know about the character of Herod the Great, it is certainly within the realm of possibilities. Herod drowned his sixteen-year-old brother-in-law, who was the high priest; he killed his uncle, his aunt, and his mother-in-law, along with several members of his brother-in-law’s family; he murdered his own two sons, and some three hundred other officials he accused of siding with his sons. Herod was maniacal, absolutely paranoid about losing power.

Herod did not care whose life would be taken. He did not care what would happen to the other lives of those caught up in this madness. Herod would sacrifice anyone’s life to make a political point. Herod was playing political games, and no price was too high to stay in power.

These Holy Children—these Innocents—were killed for the sake of Christ, and in one sense, in place of Christ.

The Comites Christi are a stark reminder for the church that it is into such a world as this that Jesus Christ is born.

Once again…these feast days, these saints, these holy ones—the Comites Christi—are a stark and painful reminder that it is into such a world as this that Jesus Christ is born.

As the author of John would write in that account: “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world would be saved through him.” It is because our world is as it is, that Christ is born…in order to save us, in order to save the world. Most especially from ourselves.

Because the world is still in need of saving…

I’m thinking of our siblings in Ukraine, who are caught up in a war they neither asked for nor invited, celebrating the holidays amidst air raid sirens and missile strikes, all because powerful people are playing political games with the lives of the powerless.

I’m thinking of the dozens who lost their lives last week, mostly in the northeast, amidst some of the fiercest cold we’ve experienced in decades, all because as a society we can’t be bothered to actually commit to doing anything substantive about our housing insecure neighbors, many of whom are veterans or experience mental unwellness. We don’t lack in ability or resources, we lack in will.

I’m thinking of the 139 people, mostly families and young children, from Nicaragua and Peru and Ecuador and Colombia, who were dropped in the middle of a freezing night in Washington D.C. on Christmas Eve, most without a jacket or even long pants, all because our legislators can’t be bothered to actually talk to one another and come up with solutions to a convoluted problem, so powerful people play political games with the lives of the powerless. Even the Holy Family fled from Judea, immigrated and became refugees in Egypt, and remained there until the tyrannical and maniacal reign of Herod the Great was finally over. Surely we can muster compassion for those whose story is a mirror to that of our Lord and Savior Jesus. Again, we don’t lack in ability or resources, we lack in will and a spirit of compassion.

We are still very much a world in need of saving.

Come, again, Immanuel. Save us.

But on this new year and Sunday of complicated readings, I’m also reminded of our Intergenerational Faith Formation time a few weeks ago, when we made Christmas cards and letters for those in immigration detention facilities, and we learned a little bit about immigration and our partners at Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Services and the holy and necessary work they do. I’m reminded of 7-year old Jimena, who didn’t look up from the picture she was coloring while the video was playing, but instead softly remarked, “They’re speaking Spanish…I speak Spanish… They’re talking about Venezuela…I know Venezuela…”

As we set out on this adventure of a new year, and many of us resolve to do things differently than maybe we have before, I urge you, church, to nurture and cultivate that spirit of compassion within you. Resist getting caught up in the demonizing of folks who view and experience the world differently than you. Resist getting pulled into the political games the powerful play with the lives of the powerless. Instead, nurture that seed of compassion. Ask how you can help, rather than further driving wedges between people.

Beginning next week and continuing throughout the season of Epiphany, we’ll be guided by our theme Heaven on Earth. What does heaven look like? What would that look like here in our place?

We’ll spend time together working this out, but today, I’d suggest it has something to do with compassion. Something to do with alleviating the suffering of our siblings.

And it’s always something to do with love.

Merry Christmas…and Happy New Year, church,

Matthew 1:18-25

18 Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, Mary was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. 19 Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to break off the engagement quietly. 20 But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. 21 She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, Yeshua, which means “God saves.”, for the child will save God’s people from their sin.” 22 All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet:

 23 “Look, the young woman shall conceive and bear a son,

  and they shall name him Emmanuel,”

which means, “God with us.” 24 When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took Mary home as his wife, 25 but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus.

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

God, our Joy,

There are a great many things that frighten us.

A great many things that unsettle us.

You promise to be with us in the midst of our fear.

As we await the arrival of Christ,

Continue to be with us, God.

Amen.

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There are more than a few moments in my childhood that I think back on, laugh at myself, and shake my head. “What the heck was I thinking?!” I never met a tree that didn’t look like it could be good for climbing. We would stack bricks up and put a piece of plywood down and try and ramp our bikes and catch some air. More than a few times did I think about climbing onto our roof and jumping down onto our trampoline to see how high I could bounce. Rollercoasters, I was all in.

These days I watch our 3-and-a-half year old jump on beds and climb all over couches and fling himself at me while we’re playing in the floor…and I haven’t the faintest idea of where he gets it.

Fear wasn’t a word that seemed to be part of my vocabulary for the majority of my growing up years.

And then at some point…I developed that knot you get in your stomach.

You know the one I’m talking about?

Rollercoasters seem less fun. Keeping the bike tires on the ground seems like a great idea. “But what if my 30-something year old body won’t let me climb trees or do the thing I think I should be able to?”

And then, I think, somewhere in there we start projecting that fear onto others. Don’t jump on that. Don’t climb there. Don’t do this. Probably don’t do that.

Maybe, like me, your list of things that there are to be fearful of has only grown in recent years. Viruses and germs and unstable situations and tensions between nations and political leaders whose idea of machismo is a measuring contest of the size of their nuclear arsenal…plus whatever the talking heads get paid to tell you is the next thing to be afraid of.

It’s as if fear has come to rule our lives.

There are some very good things to be afraid of. I’m not denying that. Snakes come to mind. And some others. But I’m wondering if we’ve given fear too much control over the steering wheel, and the map, and the Spotify playlist in the car. Are we giving fear more power than it deserves?

“Do not be afraid” or “Do not fear” is one of the most often repeated phrases throughout all of Scripture. Have you noticed every time an angel shows up in the Bible, the very first words the angel says are “Do not be afraid?” Now, to be fair, just kind of look at some the descriptions of angels in Bible to figure out why, right? Ezekiel’s got these figures that are like 4 wheels covered all over in eyes that are all spinning around each other like a gyroscope. Isaiah and Ezekiel both describe a figure that has 6 wings that cover their feet and faces and fly around holding burning fire and live coals. There are 4-headed figures, eyes of fire, figures that shine brighter than sunlight. I mean, I think fear is a totally valid reaction to something that looks like this.

And yet…into the midst of this very real, very valid, very rational fear, comes a word of peace: “Don’t be afraid.” Don’t give fear more power than it deserves.

Joseph had every valid reason to be fearful, the appearance of aforementioned angelic figure notwithstanding. Consider everything the angel had told him: “Turns out your fiancé’s pregnant, and I know it’s not yours, but don’t worry, it’s God’s child, conceived in her by a spirit. And it’s going to be a boy. And don’t worry about racking your brain trying to come up with a name, I’ve saved you the trouble. His name will be Jesus…Yeshua…Joshua…which means ‘God saves’ because your child will save God’s people from their sins.”

“Ok…cool…yeah…sounds good… Yep…no problem…” Right? Of course not. I don’t imagine that Joseph was just all of a sudden totally cool with all this. I don’t imagine Joseph just accepted everything the angel told him at face value. I’m certain Joseph had a few questions, wanted some clarification. I’m certain Joseph was fearful.

And yet…”Don’t be afraid.”

The Gospel according to St. Matthew is the only one that records this interaction with Joseph. Mary gets most of the airtime in Christmas pageants because Luke does such a good job writing the story and the Magnificat makes for really good drama. “Let it be with me according to your will”…lifting up the lowly and casting down the mighty…all that stuff. It’s really pageant material.

But I think many of us are more like Joseph than we are like Mary, if we’re honest.

Joseph doesn’t say anything in these verses from Matthew, we’re not given an insight into what Joseph is thinking, but Joseph’s actions say a lot. In the midst of exciting, yet honestly, terrifying news, in the midst of an encounter in which Joseph would have very valid reasons to be fearful, Joseph displays extraordinary resolve. Against everything his Hebrew tradition told him was the way to deal with these things, Joseph was faithful to what he heard from God. Joseph is obedient, in spite of his religious tradition.

In the midst of great fear, Joseph shows tremendous faith.

That’s one of the things we’ve heard a lot over the past couple of years, right? Faith over fear.

I want to reframe that a little bit this morning. I don’t think it’s so much faith over fear…sometimes there are very valid reasons to be fearful. But how can we be faithful in the midst of fear? How can we be honest about our fears, the things that terrify us, the things that keep us up at night…how can be honest about the very real and valid fears we experience, while at the same time listening for God’s voice, doing our best to discern where God is calling us, and trying as best we can to be faithful to that call?

How can we be faithful in the midst of our fears?

Joseph doesn’t have any line of dialogue in this narrative. Joseph is emblematic of a kind of quiet steadfastness. Joseph is obedient, but Joseph listens. Joseph, in many ways, is any and all of us who have ever quietly done a job, not made too much of a fuss, gotten our work done, and not sought out recognition or accolades. I think of Joseph as most of us who have ever volunteered at church. It’s nice to be noticed and thanked, but mostly, all of us just kind of lean into our ministry areas and our passions and we do the work because there’s work to be done.

I think of what our life together will be like in January, when Danny’s away on J-term at seminary and I’m on parental leave, the week in and week out of this congregation will take all of you, joining together and getting done what needs to get done because there’s work to do. And it’s not work for the sake of busy-ness, I see it as a model of faithfulness. And obedience. And a consistency and commitment to doing what’s necessary for New Hope to thrive.

It’s a faithfulness that trusts that God will continue to walk alongside you despite who’s in the office or not. A faithfulness that trusts in the spirit of this community who, almost 50 years ago, did the work of the church together because there wasn’t anyone else to do it.

This is what I mean when I say that you are the ones who are called, church. You are the ones God is calling in this time and place to tend this particular garden.

And more than anything, this faithfulness trusts that God will keep working to bring forth signs of life, that springs will continue flowing forth in the desert, that fragrant and beautiful flowers will continue blossoming out in the wilderness, and shoots will continue sprouting up from stumps. Joyous baptisms, wonderful First Communions, the marvelous sounds of young voices and older voices singing together in our choirs. This is the kind of vibrant life God is bringing into your midst. This is what God has promised. God keeps God’s promises, and God has promised life and life abundant.

God has promised a Savior, a Messiah…not the powerful warrior-king that we’re expecting, but a vulnerable and naked baby whose cries ring out from a makeshift crib among farmers and their livestock and echo through the quiet night.

God with us.

In the most unexpected of ways.

In the most human of experiences…that of a newborn.

As we make space for Jesus this Advent and Christmas, our expectation starts to take on a more persistent posture. Beginning yesterday, and for the week leading up to Christmas, the church has used 7 names for God in their vespers and prayers, known as the ‘O Antiphons’, to mirror this persistent posture in pleading for God to finally make God’s self known among us. Titles such as O Wisdom, O Lord, O Root of Jesse, O Key of David, O Dayspring, O King of the nations, O Emmanuel.

Pleading for God to finally break into our world…to stand in the midst of all our fears…those things that trouble us, the things that unsettle our hearts, the things that keep us up at night…that God would come stand among them…not to fix them…but to be with us in them. That you would know, dear child, that God does not abandon you. That in the midst of fear, even when your own faith is tattered and wearing thin, that God is faithful.

That God is with you.

God with us.

Come, Emmanuel.