December 25, 2022
Christmas Day – George Yandell
C. S. Lewis always liked to say that God has a way of making straight paths into crooked lines.
Sometimes when meeting folks who are unfamiliar with the life of the church or its ministry, it might help us to repeat this mantra: “You know—most of us are just not able to schedule a crisis.” That seems so true of our lives, whatever ‘crisis’ we might face – a crisis of illness and death, or the crisis of unexpected joy and good fortune; we simply cannot schedule what eventually shapes a great deal of our lives. Our life of faith is about seeking and accepting the unseen hand of God when it moves, and accepting the uncertainty of where it may lead us.
I imagine ‘crisis’ was very much on the minds of Joseph and Mary as they fulfilled their state obligations of census and taxes on the road to Bethlehem. Has it ever been easy to schedule the birth of a child? In those weeks that would become our first Advent, on that night that would become our first Christmas, I’d guess that Joseph and Mary might have thought or uttered the word “crisis,” either under their breath or in the depth of their hearts. “What in God’s name is going to happen next?”
The unseen hand of heaven was moving through their lives, all the tables turning, and they had no way of knowing how or where things might end.
December 24, 2022
Christmas Eve – George Yandell
Who or what affects you most strongly in the birth story of Jesus? With whom do you identify? Is it Joseph? Or the inn-keeper, or the shepherds? What about the other guests in the inn? I suspect many of us identify with Mary. Maybe it’s too much to focus on Jesus – but we might be well-served this Christmas to do so.
What exactly are the ‘inn’ and the ‘manger’ described in Luke? Those terms fit well with what we know from the later Ottoman Empire. Its ruined caravansaries still border the Silk Road in central Turkey. (Caravansary literally means “camel-caravan-palaces”.) A more primitive version of those structures was likely found in Bethlehem. The inn had a gated enclosure with a central courtyard for the animals; around that were covered rooms without doors from which the animals’ owners could keep an eye on their livestock. Toward the back there were regular closed rooms. Luke mentions those details not only to emphasize the poverty of the holy family, but to be as accurate as possible. As the census drew so many to Bethlehem, the closed and private rooms were gone, and so were all the covered and semi-private ones around the open courtyard. Therefore Jesus was born among the animals in that open courtyard and laid in one of their feeding troughs. [Adapted from The First Christmas, Borg and Crossan, 2007, p. 150]
Had you ever considered that Jesus was born under the starlit sky,
December 18, 2022
Advent – 4A – George Yandell
I knew Mary. She was in first through third grades with me and she went to my Church. Mary was a freckle-faced strawberry blond who walked home from school with me. Her eyes were crossed and she wore light blue-framed glasses with thick lenses that swept up at the temples. She was shy and didn’t talk much. Sometimes in class she had to step up close to the chalkboard and squint to make out the figures Mrs. McGuffy had written. Once in Sunday School class, Mary was being made fun of by two nasty little boys because she couldn’t see too well. I’d never heard Mary raise her voice before that, but she lit into those two boys – “You don’t think I can see you making fun of me. I can. I’m smart, and I know lots of things you don’t know. For one, my name means ‘one who is loved.’ I know that God loves me, and even loves you. But I don’t know why He loves you. But He does.” And they were stunned to silence. As were all of us third graders. She earned my respect in a big way. For years after, whenever I heard about Mary, mother of Jesus, I always pictured her with light blue glasses, in the image of my friend Mary from down the street. They may have more in common than you’d think.
Mary of Nazareth was given a new title by teachers of the Church almost 175 years after Jesus’ birth.
December 11, 2022
Advent 3A – George Yandell
The story goes that John the baptizer was born on the summer solstice. Six months older than his cousin Jesus, John is a dynamic figure, a man of judgement and light. John burns bright- he lays peoples’ sins bare, his prophecy calls down fire. Yet in today’s gospel passage, John is alone in a dark prison cell. He who recognized Jesus as the Messiah now seems to have doubts. “Are you the one to come,” John asks through his disciples come to Jesus, “or are we to wait for another?” [Adapted from “The Christian Century”, p. 22, November 23 issue.]
John might well have doubts since the deeds of the Christ are acts of compassion rather than the fiery judgement of the anticipated Messiah John had preached about. (That was in the gospel for last Sunday.) It seems John had backed off his earlier confidence that Jesus was the expected one. [Adapted fm The New Interpreter’s Bible, vol.8, p. 266]
In ancient prisons, prisoners were cared for by friends and family. Their needs were not provided for by the state, but by supporters of prisoners. News traveled freely. Witness the letters Paul wrote from prisons. In the chapters preceding today’s reading, Jesus has cleansed a leper, made the lame to walk, restored sight to the blind, and raised the dead. John must have known these stories. And he must have known that these miracles followed a pattern traced by Isaiah hundreds of years before–