Category: Sermon Texts

Date: Jan. 9, 2022
Scripture Lessons: Isaiah 43:1-3a, Luke 3:15-17, 21-22
Sermon: Fire and Water
Pastor: Rev. Kim P. Wells

At one time the church hosted a day training program for mentally and physically disabled people. The people came to the church each day and worked with staff and went out and did things in the community. And what were these people who came to the program called? Guests? Clients? Community members? No. They were called ‘consumers.’ I asked about this. Why that term? It is because they consume state resources designated for their care. Consumers. Because they eat up tax dollars. Doing something taxes should do, I might add.

But we are so imbued in a market economy and a capitalist culture that our reality is defined by economics. Things are judged and labeled according to how they fit into the economic context. Economic impact influences everything. It’s all about gain and loss. Inputs and outputs. Commodities and profit. This reality is in the air we breathe. What are people? Workers. Consumers. Economic entities. We are what we do for a living. We are what we make – either a product or an income. Work hard and you are financially rewarded is a basic assumption. We expect a direct correlation between work and wealth. And the greater the wealth, the greater the value, not only of someone’s financial portfolio, but of their person. The more money you have, the more you are worth, literally. That is the bubble we are in.

So today we listened to the story of the baptism of Jesus. As the gospel of Luke opens, we have the stories that lead up to the birth of Jesus and his birth. There is one brief story about his childhood. And then, there’s John the Baptizer, in the wilderness, away from the centers of power, calling people to get ready, to repent, to prepare the way, to clean up their lives. And Jesus comes to be baptized. We haven’t heard anything about what Jesus has been doing. His ministry, his deeds of witness to the power of God, his preaching and teaching and healing and feeding, none of this has gone on yet that we are told. Jesus comes to be baptized. One of many who come to John. Then we are told of the heavens opening, and the Spirit descending, in a way that brings to mind a dove, and a voice heard by Jesus, You are my child. My beloved. On you my favor rests. With you I am well-pleased.

Jesus receives this amazing blessing at this baptism before he has started his work as messiah. Not even one day on the job and he gets a fantastic review. Complete approval. What’s that about?

Well, that’s all about God. The story is told to convey a God that loves us. Period. Not because of what we have or haven’t done. Not because we got it right. Not because we have done a great job. Not because we have worked hard. We are God’s. We are beloved. God’s favor rests on us. Because that is what God has chosen. Because God is satisfied with God’s handiwork – Jesus. You. Me. Our neighbor. Our enemy. Our annoying co-worker. A stranger. Whoever. God is pleased with God’s work. God’s imprint on every soul. We are all holy. Beloved. Blessed. Not because of anything we have done. Or haven’t done. But because of the nature of God. This is totally in conflict with the meritocracy, the consumer economy, the money mindset that surrounds us.

This past week, we have lost a cultural icon, Sydney Poitier, who used his voice in public life to convey the message that each and every person should be treated with dignity. Every person is of inestimable worth. Each and every soul has the imprint of God. His voice will be missed.

After the baptism of Jesus, we are told that Jesus undergoes a time of discernment and testing in the wilderness. Then, he gets to his preaching and teaching — because he has got to let people know what he has seen of God. He’s got to be a witness to God’s reality. Where each and every person is beloved and sacred. He’s on fire with desire to share this Divine reality with others.

So, we usually think of baptism as having to do with the forgiveness of sins. Or, with children, it’s about committing to bring them up in the Christian faith so that they join the church on their own when they are of age. But the story of Jesus’ baptism shows us that baptism is so much more. The power in baptism is not a sprinkling, it’s a torrent, a flood! We see that baptism conveys who we are in the eyes of God. Holy and beloved. God’s creative handiwork. Beautiful. Precious.

The power of Divine Love as we see it in baptism completely disentangles us from the society around us that values life according to productivity and wealth. It washes us away from being enmeshed in the market mindset that determines worth. It wipes away the punishment and reward system that dominates our culture. It frees us from being bound by social roles and cultural labels. This Divine Love manifest in baptism purifies us from judging the worth of people based on their behavior and then casting some as less than, unworthy, expendables. The image of baptism involves going under the water and dying to, washing away, all those cultural constructs that limit us. It involves being liberated by the flood of grace informing us that we are holy and beloved, we are favored and blessed because that is who God is and how God feels about what God has created.

And in the story of Jesus’ baptism we are told that baptism is not just about water but it is also about fire. Purifying. Burning away, destroying all that is holding us back and tying us down and diminishing us. All the shame and guilt. Up in ash. All the regrets. Not good enough. Haven’t made it. Didn’t get there. Messed up. Blew it. It’s all fuel for the fire of passion for life, for good news, for service, for wonder, for delight, for joy, for forgiveness and mercy and compassion. Fired up!

Baptism is about being reborn from the water into new life and recognizing the new reality of the realm of God. It doesn’t matter what we have done. Who we have been. How our patterns of behavior thwart us. Because we are holy and beloved. We have been stamped with the imprint of divinity. And so has each and every person. We are God’s handiwork and God is pleased. It doesn’t depend on us. God has done it. The reality of God is within each of us and among us. And there is a place for each of us in that reality.

This image, this reality, is powerful. So much of the hurt and harm in this life comes from people not feeling wanted, valued, or accepted. It comes from people clawing for a place. For recognition. For a sense of worth. And we go to all kinds of extreme ends to try to find this – even using violence, killing others, depriving others of basic life necessities, degrading the lives of others to elevate our own. All these awful things we do, when we have already been given what we need to thrive and flourish: the blessing of Divine Love pronouncing us beloved and good.

In Psalm 29 we heard those larger than life depictions of the power of God: the voice of God like thunder, God breaking the cedars, flashing in flames of fire, shaking the wilderness, whirling the oaks, stripping the forests bare. All of that power. That force. That impact. Associated with God. Let all in God’s temple say,“ Glory!”

Then in the verses from Isaiah, we heard about all of that incredible power being channeled into the redemption of God’s beloved. All that might and imagination applied for the good of God’s people.

And then we see all of that power and grace funneled into the baptism scene. Drifting down, ever so gently, like a dove. And a voice. All of that force and power for transformation and reconfiguration and salvation. For a new reality of love and goodness and justice and community. Gently infusing Jesus. Who hasn’t even done anything yet. But now that he experiences the power of this Divine grace and blessing, he’s freed. He’s on fire. He’s got to share this reality. He’s got to turn people on to this grace. He’s passionate about this love he has got to share. A love that frees us from worry, and guilt, and insecurity, and self-loathing, and condemnation of ourselves and others. Jesus is fired up about the love that liberates us from societal constructs, and greed, and fear.

He’s on fire. Burning it down. Turning it loose. And we’re here because we’ve been caught in the tides, drawn into the flood, gathered in by the flames.

The reading from Isaiah is to people who are dispossessed from their land, scattered, living under occupation, in a foreign culture. They are in a mess. They see no future. No hope. And what does the prophet say: Do not fear. Do not fear. God’s got this. The God of fire and wind and water, the God of the heavens and the earth, the God of the ancestors, has got this. Do not be afraid.

When you pass through the waters, do not be afraid. Don’t be afraid of the cleansing, the purifying, the new birth. When you pass through fire, burning, destroying, purifying, fertilizing, do not be afraid. When the job is gone. When mom dies. When the loneliness and grief wash over you. Do not be afraid. When another innocent black life is taken. When children go hungry. When drugs steal a loved one away from you. Do not be afraid. When you use your voice to defend justice, to shine the light on truth, to extend compassionate care. Do not be afraid. When a pandemic shuts down society, and exacerbates division, and leaves in its wake isolation, separation and loss. Do not be afraid. When death is near. When separation and loneliness break our hearts. When we long for normal. Do not be afraid. The powerful God manifest to Israel promising deliverance and descending upon Jesus at his baptism has got us covered.

At the end of the novel, The Weight of Ink, by Rachel Kadish, a main character from 17th century London, who, incidentally, lived through a plague, ventures into the river to swim for the very first time. Ester, an adult woman, is finally ready to brave the water, something she has wanted to do for a long time. She is accompanied by her husband, a gay man who has a lover, and has seen more than his share of peril and threat in life.

“A high, clear birdcall sounded from a nearby tree. . . .

“The river flowed thickly before her, and she shielded her eyes to watch it. . .

“The more Ester looked, the less tame the river appeared; calling birds unperturbed by the receding skiff; the high, ragged grasses along the banks, bristling with hidden life. The wildness of things came back to her.

“Turning to Alvaro, [her husband] she let him see she was afraid. . .

“Standing on the shore, she stared. Something was lodged in her throat, aching to come loose.

“She stepped in, ginger, the muddy rocks shifting under her tender feet. One step; a second; she stood and dipped her hand into the edge of the current. This, cold water streamed between her fingers, gently at first — then more strongly as she stepped deeper, the water now forcing her palm open and her fingers wide as the current found its way between them. . .

“Water forcing her palm open, the current kissing her fingers. And swimming to the place where she stood waist – deep, her husband: master of the great house commanding the hill. She couldn’t keep from laughing in his face. He laughed with her — then, with a soft tug, pulled her off balance. The current ripped her forward and her husband led her, and the surface of the water was velvet and foam, and her legs and feet were absurd and she had no notion what to do with them — until the water lifted her limbs and made them glad and foolish. She settled her eyes on his, brown and sun-flecked as the water.

“‘Here,’ he said, guiding her wrists to his slim, sturdy shoulders, “Rest your arms here.’” Rachel Kadish, The Weight of Ink, pp. 556-557, 560.]

Ester is in the water, in the wet and wildness, her fear washing away; she is safe. And it is wonderful.

Let the water flow. Let it stir and spin and roil. There is safety even in the midst of the current. Baptism reminds us that we are anchored. That we are held. That we are secure in the embrace of Divine Love. No matter what life holds. And there is gladness and joy in it.

Jesus was born into perilous times. God’s holy and beloved child. A joy and delight to God. God is well pleased with God’s self disclosure in Jesus before Jesus has even opened his mouth to preach. Oh, what a God! All that love manifest in Jesus to show us, each of us, who we are. God’s children. Holy and beloved. Resting in God’s blessing. Amen.

A reasonable effort has been made to appropriately cite materials referenced in this sermon. For additional information, please contact Lakewood United Church of Christ.

Date: Jan. 2, 2022
Scripture Lessons: Ecclesiastes 3:1-13, Colossians 3:12-17, and Matthew 2:1-12
Sermon: Following Light into the New Year
Pastor: Rev. Kim P. Wells

Dame Janet Baker is a well-known English mezzo soprano of the 20th century. She sang opera, concert music and lieder. Her career spanned the 1950’s to the 1980’s. Dame Baker was known for her dramatic intensity. She is still alive though she no longer performs. She was married but the couple decided not to have children because of her career. Quite a sacrifice, especially in those times. But she was to give birth to a different holy gift. “In an interview with Professor Anthony Clare, Dame Baker was asked if she ever regretted her voice: ‘Did you ever hate it? Did you ever wish it would go away?’ She replied:

“‘Oh no. Never. But then, if you have a — I won’t say a driving ambition, it wasn’t a driving ambition, it was a driving force that I felt I was born to do this particular thing, and that it was a divine purpose, that’s the thing. Oh, we always go back to this, that it wasn’t an ego trip, it’s never been that. My career, in the strict sense of the word, what has driven me, is that feeling that I’ve been given something and that that can’t be ignored or run away from or denied in any way, either by me, or by anybody else. And that if it meant agony personally for me to fulfill this destiny, then too bad, I had to go through with it.’” [Resources for Preaching and Worship Year B: Quotations, Meditations, Poetry, and Prayers, compiled by Hannah Ward and Jennifer Wild, p. 17.]

This Advent and Christmas season we have been reflecting on the theme of gifts and the Divine gifts that we receive from God through Jesus and his ministry. And now we are heading into a new year and we can think about how we are going to take those gifts into this new year. It’s a time to look back and to look ahead. It’s a time to think about how we are being called to use the gifts we are being given.

We have been given the gift of Jesus. That’s what we celebrate at Christmas. We are here because we have been called to follow Jesus. That in itself is a gift. And each of us has been gifted in ways that will help to further the ministry of Jesus in our context and in our time. Each of us is gifted. Each of us is needed. We each have a ministry. A calling. And as we head into the new year, we want to pay attention on that calling.

In the story of the visit of the magi that we heard from the gospel of Matthew, we are told of astrologers, magi, wise ones, heading out on a journey, following a star. Biblical scholars tell us that this journey, given the likely geographical origin of the magi and the location of Jesus, may well have taken several years. So the story tells of these wise ones, who leave home, family, job, relationships, and community, to follow a star. They have a calling. Something they need to do. Regardless of the toll it will take. The costs – monetary, physical, spiritual, relational. They must go. Like Dame Baker, they know they are being driven by a Divine force to go on this journey. And they go. They cannot refuse. This story gives us confirmation that the ministry of Jesus was to be impactful not only to the Jewish community of Palestine, but to the whole world – every land and culture. That is the main message of this story. The reason for the journey. And the story succeeds. We are testimony to that.

The beginning of the new year provides us with an opportunity to reflect on our lives. To discern our gifts. To recognize and name our calling. In our journey of following Jesus, what ministries are we being called to at this moment? How are we needed? What is the light drawing us forward into this new year?

Ecclesiastes reminds us of the many seasons of life. So it is appropriate as this new year begins that we reflect on how we are being called in this season of our lives. Each one of us in a different place yet with a common call to follow Jesus. As we look back on our lives, we can see how we have responded to that call in past seasons of our lives. Now we think about the year ahead. What gifts do we have in our lives right now? And how can we share them in the spirit of Jesus?

Sometimes when we look back, we can see missed opportunities. We may notice that we did not respond to the light drawing us forward, to the star leading us on. Maybe we can see times when we did not offer ourselves to the journey of following Jesus as we could have. Maybe we can see times that we said no to using our gifts for the good of the world. That happens. That is a season of life that all of us go through. Ignoring the light. Letting ourselves be distracted. Maybe following a driving force that did not turn out to be what we had expected. That was not of God. That happens. To us all.

The truth is, something is going to be a driving force in our lives in the coming year. Something is going to be calling to us. Something is going to receive our attention, our time, our resources, our heart. Something is going to be a star that we follow. Will it be something that is of God? Will it be an unfolding of Divine Love in our lives? Will it offer the love of Jesus to the world in some way?

Now I used to be a planner. Big time. It was very much in fashion, even in church circles. It still is. Goals, steps along the way, time lines, etc. And that kind of approach can be effective, in some situations, in some seasons of our lives. But it can also lock us in and prevent us from responding to unexpected opportunities or circumstances. So there is also something to be said for having an intention, paying attention, being aware, and taking action day by day and letting the path appear and unfold. Frankly, I think during these covid days, we are seeing more need for adaptability and flexibility and staying watchful.

As we pay attention, we see that there are many needs in our lives and in our world, that are calling out for the love of Jesus. How are we being called to respond? What are we needed to do? How are we needed to incarnate Divine Love here and now in our times? These are our questions as we enter this new year. And given the state of things, we know that we may be called to a journey that is difficult, taxing, and long. We know there will be challenges and disruptions and losses. So we will need the church, each other, for support and encouragement along the way. This is another gift of the Christian life: community.

During Advent, we also talked about another gift of the Christian life: joy. So we want to be sure to take that gift with us into the new year as we discern our path. Joy is important, especially when the journey is hard.

The following story of ministry among refugees helps to shed light on our need for joy. Joyce Hollyday tells us of Yvonne, a volunteer missionary: “A church worker from Indiana in a Salvadoran refugee camp in Honduras told me the story of a refugee woman who once asked her [the church worker] why she always looked so sad and burdened. Yvonne talked about the grief she felt over all the suffering she was witnessing and her commitment to give all of herself to the struggle of the refugees. The [refugee] woman gently confronted her: ‘Only people who expect to go back to North America in a year work the way you do. You cannot be serious about our struggle unless you play and celebrate and do those things that make it possible to give a lifetime to it.’

“Every time the refugees were displaced and had to build a new camp, they immediately formed three committees: a construction committee, an education committee, and the comite de alegria — ‘the committee of joy.’ Celebration was as basic to the life of the refugees as digging latrines and teaching their children to read.” [Resources for Preaching and Worship Year B: Quotations, Meditations, Poetry, and Prayers, compiled by Hannah Ward and Jennifer Wild, p. 20.]

The gift of joy is necessary to help sustain us for our lifetime of discipleship because some seasons will be very difficult. So we must integrate joy into every season. And those who are in a season of joy must be sure to share it to help to uplift those who are finding joy more remote. We need to cultivate and share the gift of joy with each other. In every season.

Opera singer Dame Baker reminds us, of “that feeling that I’ve been given something and that that can’t be ignored or runaway from or denied in any way, either by me, or by anybody else.” I‘ve been given something.

This season of Advent and Christmas, we have been celebrating what we have been given. As we head into this new year, let us remember that there is a star shining. For each of us. Whatever the season. There are dreams to guide us. May we follow our star into this new year and beyond trusting that Divine Love will show us the way. In the words of Benjamin Mays, an American Baptist minister and civil rights leader, “Every man and woman is born into the world to do something unique and something distinctive and if he or she does not do it, it will never be done.” Amen.

A reasonable effort has been made to appropriately cite materials referenced in this sermon. For additional information, please contact Lakewood United Church of Christ.

Date: Dec. 24, 2021 Christmas Eve
Reflection: Smuggled In?
Pastor: Rev. Kim P. Wells

Tonight we celebrate God coming into the world through a human being. The word made flesh. Divine Love appearing in human form. Incarnation. Re-creation. A new beginning. And how does this happen? This pivotal moment? It does not involve the centers of power – government or religious. It does not happen in the capital. It does not take place among the powerful. Nor among the wealthy. We’re not told of the angel Gabriel going to the daughter of the high priest or the governor.

Tonight we celebrate a story of poor family forced to make a journey to avoid trouble with the government. Refugees almost. Away from home. A vulnerable pregnant woman and her husband with no place to stay. No room at the inn. Relegated to a barn among the beasts. Well, were they little more than beasts these expendables? And among the cattle, the doves, the donkeys, the sheep, the bats, the rats, and the cats, but probably not among pigs since pork was not on the Jewish menu, in the hay and the straw, the baby is born. Were they alone – Joseph having to serve as midwife? Did others helps? The innkeeper’s wife? Other travelers with no place to stay? We don’t know. We don’t need to know. We are told what we need to know. A humble birth. In a stable rude. In a backwater town. Involving people who said yes to Love’s design. That’s what we need to know.

Though it’s not a story about Christmas per se, I invite you to listen to a story told by Eduardo Galeano about someone in prison in Uruguay:

“The Uruguayan political prisoners may not talk without permission, or whistle, smile, sing, walk fast, or greet other prisoners; nor may they make or receive drawings of pregnant women, couples, butterflies, stars or birds. [No pregnant women, no stars, sounds like no Christmas for them.]

“One Sunday Didasko Perez, a school teacher, tortured and jailed ‘for having ideological ideas,’ is visited by his daughter Milay, aged five. She brings him a drawing of birds. The guards destroy it at the entrance of the jail. [Remember: No birds.]

“On the following Sunday, Milay brings him [her father] a drawing of trees. Trees are not forbidden, and the drawing gets through. Didasko praises her work and asks about the colored circles scattered in the treetops, many small circles half-hidden among the branches: ‘Are they oranges? What fruit is it?’ [her father asks] The child puts her finger to her mouth: ‘Ssssshhh.’

“And she whispers in his ear: ‘Silly. Don’t you see they’re eyes? They’re the eyes of the birds that I’ve smuggled in for you.’”

Tonight, amidst the greed, and hate, and violence, and apathy, and suffering, and strife, and grief, of this world, of our lives, we gather around a story of Divine Love, God, finding a way into our world, to be with us, to love us more fully. Coming as a baby, smuggled in, where no one would think to look. Humble and helpless, dependent, and in that baby, the eternity of Love is birthed into this world. Showing us that in every baby the eternity of Love is birthed into this world. Reminding us, that Love is gonna get in. That no guards, no greed, no unjust systems, no hatred or war, no abuse or neglect, can keep Divine Love from entering our lives and our world. Love is going to find a way, make a way, to infiltrate our reality. There is no limit to the creativity and imagination of God to be present in this world.

So intent is God’s desire, that God comes smuggled in that Babe of Bethlehem. And that was to put us on alert. Watch out! You really never know what God will do. Anything is possible. Everything is possible. Even in this world of hatred, violence, police shootings, insurrections, civil wars, greed, and environmental collapse, Love is going to get in.

So, here, in this small gathering, of a tiny church, dangling at the end of a peninsula, soon to be swamped by the rising seas, in this backwater of a place, and these humble surroundings, don’t be surprised. God is making a way in. Again. Smuggling Love into the world, this time through us. Amen.

A reasonable effort has been made to appropriately cite materials referenced in this sermon. For additional information, please contact Lakewood United Church of Christ.

Date: Dec. 12, 2021 Third Sunday of Advent
Scripture Lessons: Luke 1:26-38 and Luke 1:46b-55
Sermon: Receive the Gift: The Virgin of Guadalupe
Pastor: Rev. Kim P. Wells

If we ever get to travel widely again, don’t expect me to ever go to Mexico without visiting the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City. I have been there several times and I can’t wait to go back. Hopefully some time I will be able to go there on December 12, the Saint Day for the Virgin of Guadalupe. Millions of people typically visit this shrine every year especially around December 12.

The last time I was there, we got there in the morning and there weren’t many people around. Then people started flooding into the huge plaza in front of the church. Hundreds and hundreds of people suddenly lining up in the square. We got in line not knowing yet what for. There was a large plexiglass box on view in the church. The line was filing past the box. People were venerating what was in the box, saying prayers, kissing the box, leaving flowers and trinkets, kneeling and crying. We were told that the box contained a vial. And in the vial was blood from the pope. The Polish pope, John Paul II. We saw the vial positioned next to a full size replica of the pope in the box. A group of nuns gave us a pennant with an image of the pope. The crowd continued to grow outside the church. People would be in line for many hours waiting to venerate the vial. We had gone to the basilica having no knowledge of these goings on. But it’s like that in Mexico.

I have questioned myself about my fascination, attraction, interest, in the Virgin of Guadalupe. Given that I am offended by the patriarchy, hierarchy, and sexism of the Catholic church, why am I interested in this Virgin of Guadalupe? In addition, I am Protestant, believing in the priesthood of all believers, not going in for that saint stuff. I am repelled by the predatory imperialism of the Catholic church and its role in decimating the populations of original peoples in what are now called the Americas. I am appalled by the manipulative theology and beliefs of the Catholic church. Well, the Protestant church has its share of all of this, too. The church decimated the wonderful, original cultures of Mexico. Razed the temples and places of worship of the indigenous peoples. And used the same stone bricks and blocks to construct Catholic churches on the same sites. Reconsecrated the land after its pagan desecration. I find this all abhorrent. You’d think that the last place I would want to visit is the most renowned Catholic church in Mexico.

But then there is this story associated with the Virgin of Guadalupe. Just to recap for those of you who are not fixated [as I seem to be!] on this phenomenon –

The earliest written record of this story is in a text called the Nican Mopohua in the Aztec language discovered in 1649 in the archives of the hermitage built for Our Lady of Guadalupe. The exact origins of this text are not known.

What we are told is that in December of 1531, ten years after the Spanish conquest, an Aztec peasant, Juan Diego, is walking to mass at a church nine miles away from his village. He is Christian. He has been baptized. And he is evidently devout, walking nine miles each way to attend church. But Juan Diego describes himself in the Nican Mopohua as “just a piece of rope, a small ladder, the excrement of people; I am a leaf; they order me around, lead me by force.” [See The Road to Guadalupe: A Modern Pilgrimage to the Goddess of the Americas by Eryk Hanut, p. 57.] You get the idea. He is a nobody. A disposable.

On his way to mass, he passes Tepeyac Hill, a place sacred to the Aztecs before the Spanish Conquest. There was a shrine there to the goddess who was considered the mother to all of the gods in the Aztec pantheon. This goddess was pregnant, a symbol of fertility. But this temple, like all Aztec holy places was destroyed by the Spanish. As Juan Diego passes, the area is barren, wilderness, deserted, and cold as it is December.

As he goes by, he hears a sound like many birds singing. This gets his attention. Then he hears a voice which addresses him as “Dignified Diego.” And he stops to listen. He sees the image of a young woman, with dark skin, pregnant, with a cinta, a black ribbon, around her midriff, the Aztec sign of pregnancy. She is also wearing an emerald cloak with gold stars over a pink dress. Her body is haloed with rays like the sun. She speaks to Juan Diego in Nahuatl, the language of the Aztecs.

She goes on the tell Juan Diego that he is to go to the Bishop and tell him that she, the Virgin Mary, wants a hermitage, a temple, a church, built for her here on this hill. Here she will bestow her love and compassion upon the people. We are told: “There I will hear their laments and remedy and cure all their miseries, misfortunes, and sorrows.” [Hanut, p. 23.]

So, Juan Diego goes to the Bishop’s palace. He waits, and waits, and waits, hours. Finally at the end of the day, he is allowed to give the Bishop his message. The bishop tells him to come back again, so he can hear this request again, more fully. Juan Diego runs home. On the way he sees the image again. He reports what happened. She tells him to go back the next day which he does.

This time, the Bishop asks for a sign. And he has Juan Diego followed by a couple of guards. They lose him and decide he is crook.

Then Juan Diego is delayed by the illness of his uncle, who is cured by the Virgin. Then he heads back to the Bishop. On the way, he encounters the Virgin again. He tells her the Bishop wants a sign. She tells him to go to the top of the hill and there, in December, in this barren place, the hill is covered with blooming flowers, including Castilian roses. Juan Diego picks some flowers and gathers them in his tilma, a cloak made from crude plant fibers worn by the lowest classes. These flowers are to be the sign for the Bishop. He heads to the palace.

When Juan Diego is finally allowed to see the Bishop, he opens his tilma, and shows the bishop the flowers, and on the tilma is imprinted an image of the virgin in her green star studded cloak and pink dress with black sash, surrounded by rays of light and adorned with roses.

By the end of the month, there is a hermitage on Tepeyac Hill, to the virgin, and it contains Juan Diego’s tilma. And there has been a church housing the tilma on that site ever since. You can go there today and see it still.

The huge church that was eventually constructed on the site is sinking and a new church was built adjacent to the old in a neighborhood of Mexico City now called La Villa. Mexico City is constructed on what was a lake, so there is a big
geological problem with buildings sinking – many huge, historic buildings are sinking. You used to go up steps to enter and now you go down steps to get in. So, the original church of Our Lady of Guadalupe is sinking and a modern basilica was constructed. There is a moving sidewalk that takes you past an enclosed display encasing what is supposedly the cloak of Juan Diego with the image of the Virgin on it. And surrounding the church outside are alcoves and commemorations and memorials with flowers and metal charms of body parts and other items representing the gratitude of people relating to petitions made to the Virgin of Guadalupe: There is a prayer request, ‘Please heal my soccer injury’ and they leave a soccer ball. ‘Thank you for letting me live through my heart attack’ and there is a charm of a heart, etc. You get the idea. These displays ring the basilica. As do tables with vendors selling everything Guadalupe!

And the devotion to the Virgin of Guadalupe is not limited to the vicinity of the basilica. She is the patron saint of Mexico and she is ubiquitous. She is seen on tiles on the walls of buildings – public, private, commercial. She is seen in homes and restaurants and offices – a candle, a flower, a picture. She is on a tile at the water fountain, and on a shelf in the corner of the restaurant. She is in every church in Mexico often in a representation at the top of the altar, above the representation of God and Jesus. After all, she is thought of as the mother of God. She is everywhere in Mexico. And I’ve read that she is the most venerated Mary in the world having gained popularity throughout South America and even Asia. I don’t know how they measure the popularity of the different Mary’s, but apparently she is at the head of the hit parade.

Our nephew, who is of Euro American descent back to the Mayflower, educated at Harvard, Episcopalian, etc. married a woman whose parents immigrated to the US from Mexico when they were young adults. They are citizens and have made a wonderful life in the US. One daughter is a doctor and one is a lawyer. The girls have given their many prestigious diplomas to their parents and they are proudly displayed on a wall by the dining room table. So, at our nephew’s wedding, at a Catholic Church in Los Angeles, at one point the couple knelt before an altar to a generic white Mary and prayers were said. They they moved and knelt at another altar clearly devoted to the Virgin of Guadalupe, brown skin, the rays of the sun around her, clad in a green cloak with stars. And more prayers were said. Isn’t praying to Mary praying to Mary? Why two Mary’s? The bride told us later that this ritual involving the two Mary’s was a blessing of their bicultural marriage.Interesting.

So, I ask myself, why am I so attracted to this story of the Virgin of Guadalupe? I do not pray to her. I don’t expect her to do anything for me. I am not looking for her to intercede for me to God to get some favor granted. But I do have a candle for her in every room of our house; I’m not sure Malcolm and Jeff [my son and husband] are even aware of this.

I am fascinated that in a cultural context where the Catholic church was ‘god,’ where European colonizers had completely decimated the native population and had crammed the people who were left into a permanent underclass, in a racist culture in which brown people were considered sub human by the European occupiers, in a context so thoroughly based on domination and subjugation, there is this story of a poor brown peasant who gets a high and mighty bishop to build a church devoted to a brown Mary who presents with attributes that hearken back to native religions including worship of the goddess. This story undermines and overturns the entire power structure of the Catholic church including its theology. It works in the interests of the indigenous people AND the Catholic church because it creates a bridge for the indigenous peoples to make a home in the omnipotent Catholic church from which they could not escape. So, the story serves the church and it serves the original peoples. There is an integration that meets the needs of the people so that the church can actually be of spiritual support to the Indios. It’s brilliant. A mystery. A miracle?

What we want to notice this season as we Protestant Christians give our nod to Mary, is how the story of the Virgin of Guadalupe is an embodiment, a manifestation, of the song of Mary, the Magnificat, which is based on the song of Hannah, from the book of Samuel. These ancient poems celebrating the justice of God are borne out in the story of Guadalupe. In the Guadalupe story, God chooses a brown Mary, a female figure, to basically cow the Catholic church. God looks with favor on a lowly servant. This also applies to Juan Diego. Who was going to listen to this poor, brown peasant in the opulent prestigious Catholic power structure? And yet, he persists. And the church is built. And Juan Diego and Guadalupe are revered, venerated, like the Mary of the Magnificat.

God does great things for Mary in the Magnificat, and certainly great things have come of the Guadalupe story.

God’s mercy reaches from age to age. To this day, because of the story of Guadalupe, brown people, people of color, even white people around the globe expect mercy and justice from God.

As for scattering the proud and deposing the mighty, you know that Catholic bishop did not want to build that church. He did not want to take direction from some poor Indian. He did not want to use the power and resources of the church to respond to this request from a nobody. But the church is there. Now a basilica is there. And the image of Guadalupe covers the globe — in nooks and crannies and niches in every country. She connects with all people, including those with no connection to the Catholic church, or church of any kind, even with no connection to Christianity. Still, there is devotion for Guadalupe especially among people who are not of the dominant class and culture, who are made poor, who are considered less than. Guadalupe fills the hungry. She is seen as an agent of Divine help and mercy especially among people who feel they have no where else to turn.

The Guadalupe story incorporates all the reversals of the Magnificat. It is a testimony to the God of universal justice and love. A transformational God. It is not just about using the structures of hierarchy and patriarchy for good, but about transforming those structures so that all people are incorporated into God’s dream with no gate keepers, no oppression, no exclusion.

What you have in Mexico is basically a brown, female, pregnant woman, goddess channeling the devotion and reverence of the people. She is not integrated into a pantheon of saints, she is essentially the incarnation of God. On her own.

The story of Guadalupe gives power and might to the Magnificat. That paean of praise, if you notice, is written with past tense. God has done this. God has done that. It is not aspirational, God will do this, or will do that. It is a celebration of what God has already done. How God has already manifested God’s dreams of justice and peace. This hymn is grounded in trust because of what has happened not because of what is hoped will happen.

As I see it, we can look back at the story of Guadalupe and see what has happened, what has been done, how Divine justice and mercy have come to fruition. In the past tense. And this informs our faith and our future.

Mexico is a country where many people are poor and alienated from their government and their land. They are victims of greed and imperialism perpetrated by their predatory neighbor, the United States. Because of industry and greed, much of the land, air, and water in Mexico is polluted and in many places it is easier and cheaper to get a Coke than to get safe drinking water. Many people have very hard lives and they are struggling, desperate, so they resort to leaving their beautiful beloved homeland. And they have brought their dearly beloved Virgin of Guadalupe to this country. A needed gift. In her story we see the reality of God, a reality that’s revealed in the story of Mary of Nazareth, in the story of Jesus, and a reality proclaimed by the prophets who speak of God’s desire that all people live together in peace calling for an end to abuse and oppression and economic violence. So the patron saint of Mexico has now been ‘upgraded’ to the patron saint of the Americas – and oh how we need her witness to mercy and justice! We need her powerful story of transformation and integration. We need her witness to the Magnificat and the reality of God.

As we think about the gifts that we are receiving this precious Advent season, may we consider the story of the Virgin of Guadalupe to be one of those gifts. May her story, remembered by people the world over on this holy day, fill us with hope and joy this Advent season as we prepare to celebrate the incarnation of mercy and justice in its many forms and manifestations. Amen.

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Much of the information about the Virgin of Guadalupe in this sermon is taken from the book cited above, The Road to Guadalupe: A Modern Pilgrimage to the Goddess of the Americas by Eryk Hanut.

A reasonable effort has been made to appropriately cite materials referenced in this sermon. For additional information, please contact Lakewood United Church of Christ.

Date: Nov. 28, 2021. First Sunday of Advent
Scripture Lessons: Jeremiah 33:14-16 and Luke 21:25-36
Sermon: Receive the Gift: On the Look Out
Pastor: Rev. Kim P. Wells

So, in case you haven’t been paying attention, the world IS falling apart. The roaring of the seas and the waves. Distress among the nations. Those island nations sure had something to say at the UN Climate Change talks in Glasgow. How about the recent flooding? Oh, and the fires? The devastation. And the deadly pathogens. And what about the protests over an unjust justice system? And poverty and need growing while wealth is swelling? It’s unstable. Unsteady. Shaky. There is fear and foreboding about what’s to come. We are in the midst of cataclysmic shifts. Tectonic eruptions.

While I would never suggest that this is God’s plan, that God is behind it all, that this is intended punishment to further God’s ends, there is judgment. There is a reckoning in what is going on. And we see that the gospel of Luke lays out the options for response.

Psychologists tell us that in the face of calamity, of threat, of fear, the human response is either fight or flight. We either get out of the circumstance or we face it full force. We seek a safe haven or we seek to eliminate the threat. The gospel of Luke presents a circumstance of cataclysm, of turmoil, of anguish, and also presents two responses. One response is to hide, to escape, to sleep, to deny. Perhaps a version of flight. To be weighed down with dissipation, and drunkenness and the worries of this life, as Luke puts it. I think we are clear about drunkenness. And the worries of this life. But dissipation? What does that suggest? One scholar tells us that dissipation is the “nausea that follows a debauch.” [New Interpreter’s Bible, Volume VIII, p. 346.] OK. And what is a debauch? According to Webster, “an act or occasion of extreme indulgence in sensuality or carnal pleasures.” The second definition is an orgy. So, such an occurrence followed by nausea is dissipation. Are we suffering from dissipation after our over indulgence in fossil fuel consumption? In consumerism? Black Friday, anyone? Perhaps. But Luke lets us know that one response to cataclysm is drunkenness, dissipation, and being weighed down by the worries of this life. And we can see that, especially at this time of the year. There are so many trivialities to engage. So many opportunities for distraction. For indulgence of various kinds. Worrying about the food for the party. Worrying about the dress for the Christmas photo. Worrying about how to get the Christmas tree home. Worrying about the granddaughter studying in Europe who might not be able to come home for Christmas because of the Omicron variant. Worrying about the supply chain issues that might prevent you from getting that perfect gift for someone. Worrying about the concert you won’t go to because of covid. Worrying about the problems with the mail and your Christmas cards and packages getting delivered. We could go on and on and on and on with the distractions and worries of this season. And there may be plenty of parties offering the opportunity for drunkenness. Numb the pain. Ease the grief. Sweeten the memories. And then there’s dissipation. Some days, it’s all we can do to get out of bed.

But the gospel of Luke presents another response to cataclysm, to turmoil, to the breaking and shaking and quaking of the very world under our feet. Stay alert. Awake. Stand up. Straight. Raise your head. Keep watch. Pray. Pay attention. Be on the lookout. For the activity of God. Because where there is trouble, where there is pain and heartache, where things are falling apart, where there is strife, that is where the love of God is sure to be breaking in. With comfort and justice.

And we never know what form the presence of God will take. We don’t know how redemption will come. It may be in ways that are small and seemingly insignificant. Easy to be missed. It may be through some huge shift. A huge transformation. The Bible tells us of the presence and workings of Divine Love in everything from an enormous flood, to a burning bush, to a cross, to silence. This is a way of letting us know that we cannot predict or limit the workings of Love in the world. We are urged to stay alert because we may be surprised, we may be taken aback, by the ways of restoration and redemption. But it happens. Whether we notice or not. You see Advent is a season of preparation for the celebration of the birth of Jesus. The birth has already taken place. It has already happened. Divine Love is present in the world. The process of redemption has begun. It is already happening. Advent reminds us to be awake, alert, and watchful so that we don’t miss it. So that we see that Divine Love is breaking into our reality. The transformation is happening. It’s not just about the future. It is not just what will happen. It is about what has happened and what is happening right now. If we are focussed on waiting for something in the random future, we may be missing what is happening right now. Right now Divine Love is invading our world, spreading like a virus, fomenting new life. Not just 2000 years ago. Not in the illusory future. But right here. Right now. Because things are falling apart.

These darkening days make us want to turn in early, cozy up under the covers. Or snuggle in with a screen. But we are warned – stay alert. Awake. Vigilant. Be immersed in prayer, community, worship, generosity, and justice. And stay wary. Everything we hope for or dream of is here, waiting for us, unfolding around us – if we have eyes to see. If we pay attention.

Luke presents two very clear alternatives – distraction or engagement.

We must not be afraid of the chaos and turmoil around us. That will not keep God, Divine Love, away from us. That will not separate us from God. It is may be that in turmoil, pain, suffering, in injustice, we find God is, perhaps most intensely, with us. It’s the darkness that makes us crave the light. And the light has come and darkness has not overcome it.

This Advent, be present. Watch. Look. Listen. Pay attention. Immerse yourself in the spiritual disciplines that keep you centered. So many distractions, so many worries, can consume us. Trap us, Luke says. Trap us. And keep us from experiencing the very thing we need – connection to Divine Love, experience of the presence of God, engagement with the Sacred.

Advent. It starts not with Black Friday, but with our choice in the face of the horrors and devastation around us. Will we hide? Become consumed with worry? Escape in self indulgence? Let ourselves be trapped? Or will we stand up? Straight and tall. Awake. Alert. To what God is doing. And how we are needed. Jesus, Emmanuel, God with us – are we paying attention?

We close with the poem, ‘The whole earth’s a waiting room’ by Joseph T. Nolan:

We wait — all day long,
for planes and buses,
for dates and appointments,
for five o’clock and Friday.

Some of us wait for a Second Coming.
For God in a whirlwind.
Paratrooper Christ.

All around us people are waiting:
a child, for attention;
a spouse, for conversation;
a parent, for a letter or call.

The prisoner waits for freedom;
and the exile, to come home.
The hungry, for food;
and the lonely, for a friend.

The whole earth’s a waiting room!
“The Savior will see you now”
is what we expect to hear at the end.

Maybe we should raise our expectations.
The Savior might see us now
if we know how to find him.
Could it be that Jesus, too, is waiting
for us to know he is around?

Amen.

A reasonable effort has been made to appropriately cite materials referenced in this sermon. For additional information, please contact Lakewood United Church of Christ.