Holiday Hangover

John 1:10-18

 He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.

And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth. (John testified to him and cried out, “This was he of whom I said, ‘He who comes after me ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’”)

From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.

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We did something two days ago, on Friday, January 1st, that doesn’t usually happen at the Havel house. We started packing up and putting away Christmas. The nativity sets and the stockings, the Christmas candles, the Santa Claus tchotchkes, and the other holiday trinkets are all packed up, put away, stored again, in the garage, for another year. Bah humbug. I know.

We usually wait at least until Epiphany, January 6th, for all of that. But the next couple of weeks are going to be rough and busy at our place with my wife, Christa’s, surgery scheduled for Tuesday morning. So if we didn’t do it sooner, it wasn’t going to happen until much, much later.

And I’m always amazed – and a little bit judgmental I admit – about the speed with which so many in the world clean up Christmas and pack it away, so I felt a little guilty about getting in on that game this time around. It seems to be gone in a fraction of the time it took us to get ready for it – almost like we can’t wait to get it over with, or that we can’t wait to move on from it, or like we weren’t all that invested in it in the first place, or something.

And, when it’s all said and done; when the parties are over; when the Christmas trees are packed away or kicked to the curb; when the classes begin again and when whatever it is that makes the Holiday Season the Holiday Season has ended, it’s very easy for us to slip into a post-season funk – a sort of Holiday Hangover, if you will. Maybe you know that feeling.

And, unless you ascribe to the “hair of the dog theory,” the shape of things out there in the world so far in 2021 isn’t exactly a cure for this hangover. No matter how much we were ready to kick 2020 to the curb, it’s easy to see that not much has changed just because that New Year’s Eve ball dropped and we can say we’ve completed another trip around the sun. No, most of our struggles followed us inot January and the same dangers lurk and the same fears loom, as ever.

There is another new, but far too familiar worry about trouble in the Middle East again.

There is ever more political anxiety and animosity and uncertainty afoot, right here at home.

The Coronavirus pandemic didn’t disappear at midnight on Thursday – and could very well be getting worse.

In 30 minutes of watching the local news you will learn that Indianapolis set records for criminal homicides in 2020, that a 10-year-old girl is missing in Muncie, that another white woman has gone viral for publicly, falsely, shamefully accusing another young black man of stealing her phone. So the hits keep coming. Not much in the world seems to point to the fact that there is anything any more “merry” or “happy” or “new” about 2021, so far.

And, as usual, it’s not just about what’s going on “in the news” or “over there” or even on the other side of town somewhere. There is plenty going on in our own homes and in our own lives and in our own families that has already threatened to suck the “happy” right out of this three-day-old new year.

So, maybe we show up or log on for worship searching for some kind of answer, possibly expecting to hear a promise of hope in the face of it all – and we get this Pastor who seems bent on reminding us of the doom and gloom that surrounds us. And we get this passage from John’s Gospel that is anything but the silent night, holy night, feel-good storybook stuff of last week’s shepherds, stars, wise men, and miracles. Like, even John has packed up Christmas and is pushing us to move on from it all.

Because the first Chapter of John’s Gospel is a version of the Christmas story that’s very different from the one we’ve been hearing over the last couple of weeks. John tells a story about Jesus’ coming into the world and having always been a part of the world. (Okay...) John talks about Jesus showing up, but being rejected by those he came to love and redeem in the first place. (Talk about “bah humbug.”) John talks about the Word becoming flesh and living among us and about God’s only son being close to the father’s heart and making God known because of it. (Again, okay…) It can sound like a puzzle, if you’re hearing it for the first time.

It’s a mind boggling sort of thing, this version of Christmas. It’s the stuff of philosophy and theology I wonder and stew about even though, a lot of the time, it all seems beyond my grasp. And, with the angels and the shepherds and the baby in a manger all packed up and put away, John’s version of Christmas is nowhere near as warm and fuzzy and romantic as it felt a week and a half ago.

And I wonder if that’s John’s point. Maybe John told his version of Christmas without the romance and without the warm fuzzies because he knew that’s where people were living too much of the time. As we’ve already been reminded, our world is anything but warm and fuzzy.

Again, maybe that’s why John has cleaned up and packed away the stuff of Christmas – the angels, the shepherds, the magi, and more. Even as he leaves a light on for us, you might say, just the same – something more for us to chew on above and beyond the characters in the creche.

See, at our house, we didn’t pack away everything from our Christmas celebration, just yet. The tree is still up and decorated. The Advent wreath still sits on the table. And the lights still shine on the outside of the house. 

Because I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna need some more time and some more reminders in the coming days and weeks, in particular, about why and for whom God showed up in Jesus. And John’s version of the story gives me something different to chew on – like a cure for my holiday hangover and encouragement for whatever’s on the way:

Like the good news and reminder that Word and Spirit of God (“logos” is the word John uses, that means the building blocks of creation, the nature of God was born in the flesh, so that we could see what that looked like. The stuff of mercy and love and forgiveness and hope were embodied in Jesus so that we might embody them, too.

The good news that in God’s ultimate act of humility and sacrifice – being burdened by a body, by suffering, by death, even – you and I are made brothers and sisters with Jesus and children, loved by the most high God.

And the good news that the fullness of that same God’s grace has been poured out for your sake – and for mine – even when it’s hard to buy it or believe it or put it into words.

I guess what I’m saying and feeling right about now is that my faith on this side of Christmas isn’t fueled so much by the shepherds and stars and silent nights of a week or so ago. My faith is in the Word that remains above and beyond all of that, in the promise of the deep, abiding, unending love to which all of that points. Maybe not a lot/enough changed with the turning of the New Year, but neither has the persistent, powerful, ever-present love of our God, about which John’s gospel speaks:

…the fullness of grace and truth that has lived and moved and breathed in the world, since the dawn of creation.

…the fullness of grace and truth that lived and moved and breathed in Jesus, too;

…and the fullness of grace and truth that lives and moves and breathes, still – even when the darkness threatens, precisely because the darkness still threatens, so that we will trust in and receive grace upon grace, when we need it most – no matter what the calendar says – and so we can be that kind of grace upon grace for each other, and for a world that needs it, still.

Amen. Merry Christmas. Happy New Year.

A Reformation Garden

John 8:31-36

Then Jesus said to the Jews who had believed in him, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.”  They answered him, “We are descendants of Abraham and have never been slaves to anyone.  What do you mean by saying, ‘You will be made free’?”  Jesus answered them, “Very truly, I tell you, everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin.  The slave does not have a permanent place in the household; the son has a place there forever.  So if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.”

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I came across an old file this week, with an even older story in it, that struck me as particularly relevant for Reformation Sunday. From what I could tell thanks to some help from Google, it was written by a woman named Anne Hѐbert, and was part of a book by an old, recently deceased religion professor from my undergraduate alma mater, which, I suppose is how it ended up in my file of things worth saving. His name was Carl Skrade. This story, called “The Garden,” has been re-written in a couple of different ways it seems, and I have taken a few liberties with it, myself. It goes like this:

In the beginning, there were more than just Adam and Eve. In the beginning, God made a whole bunch of us. He made a whole bunch of us because he wanted us to have a lot of fun, and he said you can’t really have fun unless there’s a whole gang of you. So God put us – all together – in a place called Eden, which was a combination garden and playground and park, and told us to go and have a great time.

At first, we did have fun just as God had planned. We rolled down hills, we waded in streams, we climbed up trees, we swung on vines, we ran in meadows, we frolicked in the woods. We were filled with joy. We laughed a lot. Life was good.

And then the snake slithered his way into Eden with the good news. The snake told us we weren’t having real fun because we weren’t keeping score. Back then, we had no idea what “score” was and even after the snake explained it, we still couldn’t see what was supposed to be so fun about it. But, the snake insisted and said we should give an apple to the person who was best at all the games. Now that sounded like fun and it made sense that keeping score was the only way to know who was best and who, as a result, should get the apple. The reason it sounded fun, was of course, because secretly, we were all sure we were the best.

Things were different after that. We yelled a lot. We argued. We pointed fingers.  And we spent more time making up rules for all of our games and keeping score than we did actually playing. Except for the frolicking – there are no rules for frolicking, which makes it impossible to score – so we just stopped doing that all together.

When God saw what we were up to, God wasn’t happy. God was sad. God was mad. God was wroth with anger – very, very wroth. God said we couldn’t use the  garden anymore because we weren’t having fun. We told God we were having lots of fun and that he was just being narrow-minded because it wasn’t exactly the kind of fun he’d originally thought of. 

God wouldn’t listen.

He kicked us out, and said we couldn’t come back until we stopped keeping score.  To rub it in (“to get our attention,” he said), God told us we were all going to die and that our scores wouldn’t mean anything anyway.

God was wrong. Really, it was life in the garden that didn’t mean anything. Fun is great in its place but without scoring there’s no reason for it. We were lucky to have figured that out. We’re all very grateful to the snake. The end.

It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? But it’s a great story. It’s an interesting satire on creation and the garden and what humanity did with the promises God offered.  But it’s ridiculous. No one would admit to being grateful for the snake. No one would suggest you can’t have fun without keeping score. No one would imply that being banished from the garden was a good thing. Or would we?

I think this is a story Martin Luther might have told back in the early days of the Reformation. Luther was trying to get people to realize what we had done with the promises of God. Luther was trying to change the way we – and the Church – looked at life as followers of Jesus. Luther was trying to get us to reconsider the many ways we were making up rules and keeping score and not being true to God’s intention for our lives.

In Luther’s day – back in the 16th Century – people were keeping score with rituals and rules and riches, too. You could pay cash for salvation. You could visit a holy shrine as a way to earn your way into heaven. You could be sure God’s grace was for you by explaining to others why it couldn’t possibly be for them. All of this made Martin Luther sad. It made him mad. Like God, in the Garden, Martin Luther, was wroth with anger – very, very wroth.

And it really wasn’t much different than what was going on in the days of Jesus, either. Just like those who got kicked out of the garden so quickly, the followers of Jesus were screwing up by keeping score, too. The Pharisees were finding fault, the Sadducees were slinging stones and the Scribes were scribbling down their rules. All of it was about who was right and who was wrong; who was earning God’s favor and who was reaping God’s judgment; who was winning with the most points and was losing with the lowest score, you might say.

But God’s rule book is all about getting us back into the garden. And I believe God is more saddened than he is wroth with anger when it comes to our situation. We were always meant to be happy and joyful and fulfilled and free. What Jesus taught us and what Martin Luther reminded us is that grace is ours for the taking. It’s God’s original intention for our lives. Grace is the gift that clears the tote board. Grace levels the playing field. The grace of God evens the score.

Because of grace, we don’t have to hold onto guilt – we can trust in God’s forgiveness, even when we can’t forgive ourselves. Because of grace, we don’t have to bear grudges – we can forgive and forget and move on. Because of grace, we don’t have to compare, we can just be ourselves; we don’t have to play dirty, we can play fair; we don’t have to keep up with the Joneses, we can live within our means. Because of grace we can give with gratitude because we get to, not because we have to. Because of grace we don’t have to be afraid of the future, but we can enjoy the life with which we’ve been blessed.

But this kind of grace is a hard-sell, still, for the people of God, isn’t it? We are still very much about keeping score in almost every realm of our lives, aren’t we? You can’t turn on the TV without being scared by the statistics of this virus, whose numbers are on the rise again. And all of that makes us measure the stock market and worry about 401k’s and bottom lines. Pastors and Church Councils and congregations of all stripes are watching attendance numbers and wringing their hands over the offering plate. In another election like the one overwhelming our nation, again, we are consumed by the polls that have us counting and comparing and losing hair and sleep and friends, sometimes, because of it. We count calories and chemo treatments and lab results and test scores of all kinds. We count birthdays and anniversaries with all kinds of mixed emotions. And we count days, months, minutes, and years since we’ve seen our loved ones last or until we might get to see them again.

It’s exhausting. And all of this counting makes it so easy to lose sight of what has already and will, ultimately, save us, in the end… what will really get us back to the Garden (or back into the household, as Jesus says it this morning)… the Truth that will make us free, I mean.

Several years ago, the Reverend Billy Graham was in Indianapolis for one of his revivals. Before the big event, he held a special, smaller revival just for pastors and church leaders. And I remember a Pastor friend of mine saying that, during a question and answer session, another pastor in the crowd asked Billy Graham what the one thing was that people in the world needed to know.

And Billy Graham said that the one thing people needed to know was this thing about grace. And supposedly, Billy-Freaking-Graham said that Lutherans were the “sleeping giant” of the Christian faith because, if the Lutherans could just unlock and tap into and find out how to best share their foundational understanding of God’s grace, they – WE – LUTHERANS – could change the world.

That is a special charge and a holy responsibility to wonder about on Reformation Sunday, in these days, when the church and the world, still, seem so Hell-bent on keeping score so much of the time.

So let’s remember that God’s grace means to be true freedom in our lives and for the world. And that only by living in it and by sharing it with others will we catch a glimpse of those days we used to know – back in the garden, before anyone tempted us to know otherwise, before we became slaves to the sin of keeping score, and making-believe that we have the right to judge others or the power to save ourselves. The truth is, there is real freedom in acknowledging that we can do neither. And when we start living differently because of this truth, we might just wake the sleeping giant of God’s grace and to let it loose in our lives and for the sake of the world where we live.

Amen