First Sunday after Christmas Day Sermon

If you are anything like me, you’ve been dreading this day: December 31, 2023.Why? Because tomorrow is January 1, 2024. 

And I’m not ready for 2024. I’m not ready for any kind of repeat of 2020. And it’s not COVID I’m worried about. (But, please, God, no more pandemics!) It’s the presidential election I’m talking about, the repeat performance of Biden and Trump, now amplified all the more.

So long as it was 2023, I could still live in denial. Something could still happen to deliver us from it. But – even in my denial – I knew: Once 2024 comes, Eric, you’re going to need a plan.

Now, to be clear, I don’t have that plan yet. (It’s still December and I’m sticking with my denial!) But tomorrow comes. And with it, my duty – to myself and to this church – to begin the work of discernment: How do we live faithfully in the midst of chaos and threat, extremism and – presumably – waves of misinformation.

And the heart of this question lies in that one word: faithfully.

For this is what lies at the heart of who we are in the church. We are people of faith, galvanized around a common hope and belief that God is real. And though no one has ever seen God, it is God the only Son, Jesus Christ, who is close to the Father’s heart, and who has made God known to us (John 1:18).

Whatever plan we devise for the year to come – as individuals, as a church – it must be rooted in our faith that God is with us in all things and that the ways of God, revealed in Christ, are trustworthy and true and unassailable. For the gift of faith is one of perpetual invitation to find both security in God and purpose in God, inasmuch as we align our lives and spirits with the ways of God.

Now, I never knew Rose Kennedy, matriarch of the Kennedy clan. And, truthfully, I don’t know anything about her. But I read an article recently that quoted her autobiography. And in it she wrote:

“The most important element in human life is faith. If God were to take away all His blessings, health, physical fitness, wealth, intelligence and leave me with but one gift, I would ask for faith – for with faith in Him and His goodness, mercy and love for me, and belief in everlasting life, I believe I could suffer the loss of my other gifts and still be happy.”

And the fact that she endured the death of four children – two by assassination – gives her a certain degree of authenticity and credibility.

And I agree with her – what she says about faith.

What more is there to want than this one gift: the assurance that God is. And that God is with us – in our fortunes and in our sorrows. And that God is compassionate and forgiving. And that God is dignifying us by calling us to live lives of meaning and purpose – enfleshing the Kingdom of God in this world – in our relationships, in our spirits, our actions, our prayers.

God is. And so are we.

There are times when I pray, and my prayer gets no further than this, “I am.” “I am” is a form of address, using that name for God that God first shared with Moses. Jesus would later infer that same title to himself: “I am,” to the outrage of his adversaries. And so this prayer, “I am,” is equally and simultaneously addressed to God the Father (or Mother, if you prefer) and God the Son. And, at the same time, it is an affirmation of my own existence and worth. I am, too. I exist. I matter. As Jesus was in the father and the father in the son, so I am adopted into this union of being, crying “Abba! Father!” a child and heir of God, now called to live in faith (Galatians 4:6-7).

So now, in faith, we stand at the threshold of this new year looming before us, with all its chaotic potential, arming ourselves with the substance of faith:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it….

And the Word became flesh and lived among, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth (John 1).

So now, holding firm to the substance of faith – to arm and protect us from fear and despair and deceit – it still begs the question, “But what are we actually going to do?”

Now, by and large, it is not my habit in preaching to be overly prescriptive – telling you what you ought to do. I prefer to point to the principles and values of the Kingdom of God (such as I understand them), with the expectation that you are responsible for connecting the dots between what you believe and how you choose to live. So, please, take what I’m about to say as a story of an interaction I recently had, rather than as some kind of instructions from your rector…

A friend stopped by my house the other day. And as we were talking, he shared how he’s becoming increasingly undone by all the news that keeps pouring in, that – more and more – he despairs for our country and democracy itself. He feels this threat saturating into him, and – in some sense – destroying him.

And as we talked, we started brainstorming about what to do in the face of such things. And these were the ideas we came up – the responses that seemed hopeful. And faithful:

1. The first was to volunteer in some proactive, political way that’s doing something beneficial, that has the potential to support a political outcome that feels most hopeful and most aligns with the values Jesus modeled for us. But in that, we also recognized a certain danger that can present itself there; and that’s the incessant, corrosive chatter that happens amongst politically like-minded people, feeding each other a steady diet of outrage and disgust. The human soul can only tolerate so much of this before that outrage turns in on itself and starts to consume us. So we need discipline and strategies on how much we allow ourselves to participate in such conversations.
2. The second idea was to choose something (anything!) that fosters in us an awareness and attentiveness to life! and the generation of life. It could mean becoming an active participant (like planting and tending a garden) or simply choosing some specific, living thing in Gig Harbor to study and become attentive to. Become a bird watcher or pick some native plant (like a moss or a fern) to learn about it, Then to go on regular walks to find that thing you’re coming to love and delight in, and watch it live… let it become a sacrament of God’s presence in this world: alive and living and living again.
3. Our third idea was to pray for our political adversaries – those whose voices and spirits stand in enmity with our own. To do so is to submit ourselves to the clear teaching of Christ,

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, ‘Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you’” (Matthew 5:43-44).

Praying for them does not mean praying for their political success. Nor do we need to tell God how to fix them. It is sufficient simply to desire their well-being and to trust God knows what to do with such prayers. For when we desire the welfare of our enemies, we are choosing to enter the reordered world of God’s kingdom, where compassion, unity, humility, and forgiveness reign. We are choosing, by faith, to believe they, too, are made in the image of God, no matter how concealed that image may be. And in praying for them, it may prove to be the salvation of our own souls, so imperiled by our consuming hate.

4. And the last idea we came up sounds the most fun: Get a buddy and commit to meeting regularly for coffee a few times a week. And when you’re done with your coffee, head out to find some good, spontaneous thing to do for someone else. Find a good deed that needs doing, then do it. Right then. Together. Pay for someone’s gas. Coral the random shopping carts stranded around the parking lot. Just find any good way to be deliberately kind together.

And what I love about this fourth idea is how enlivening it is to put ourselves in a deliberate posture that is prepared and desires to do good, wherever that need emerges.

Years ago, a friend and I were driving from Southern California to the Bay Area. And when we set out on our drive our commitment was this: We’re going to stop and help every person stuck on the side of the road. Normally, that drive would take about five-hours. It took us ten. And it was fabulous.

And what made it so memorable was our predetermination to do good. We were totally prepared to be inconvenienced for someone else’s benefit. You know how it is otherwise: You’re driving along; you see someone stuck; your conscious tries to speak, “Should I stop? Should I help ‘em?” But before your better angel can overcome your resistance, it’s too late. You’re already a quarter mile past them on the interstate. “Well, good luck to you.”

But if you’ve already made up your mind to care for the next person who needs caring, and especially if you have a companion, you’re thrilled when the opportunity presents itself and you come away feeling alive.

Whatever it is we choose to do in the year to come, whatever needs present themselves, or what faith may require of us, we have this hope: If we are committing ourselves to God and the ways of God, we can trust God to meet us in these desires, and provide for us the opportunities and the means to make this faith come to fruition.

And it will be as we prayed this morning:

Almighty God, you have poured upon us the new light of your incarnate Word: Grant that this light, enkindled in our hearts, may shine forth in our lives; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.[1]

[1] Collect for the First Sunday after Christmas Day, BCP p. 213.