Desire of Nations

“Sages leave your contemplations, brighter visions beam afar; seek the great desire of nations, ye have seen his natal star…(LSB 367, Angels from the Realms of Glory St. 3)”

“O Come, Desire of Nations bind in one the hearts of all mankind…(LSB 357 O Come, O Come, Immanuel St 7)”

This is not pulpit worthy, at least not yet. First because it is more an intuition than something well discerned. And second because there are so many ways it can go wrong.  But desire is something fundamentally bound to Christmas.

When we are younger that desire is stoked by the wonders of the season.  All the lights.  The decorations coming out.  A tree in the house!  Cookies and just the pace of life.  Before you even get to presents and Santa, a two-year old is attuned to the desire of the season.  They are sad to see everything packed away.  As we get older that desire moves on to: “What am I going to get?”  It might be here that we start to understand something about desire.  Whatever physical thing you get, the satisfaction doesn’t last that long.  As soon as you get the Toy of the Year, it breaks.  As soon as you open the X-box, desire moves to having the next game.  

Desires of adults around the season might even be more complicated.  Christmas might be the first time parents meet the new boyfriend/girlfriend.  And the strange mix of desires all of that stirs up in both parents and children.  Desires to give the children a “good Christmas” which gets harder each year, until it really is impossible.  Desires for a gathering of the clan and a nostalgia for when everything was together.  And it is not that any of these desires are necessarily bad.  They might be appropriate in their seasons. And there are better and worse satisfactions of them.  But if you pay close attention to the desires of season, they all tend to increase the restlessness. We place our hopes on things that can’t bear the weight, even if they are good things.  Which if we are honest they often aren’t.  Our desires are often that our wills would override the wills of others. That the world would stop and satisfy me.

What Christmas does is start to train our desires, in the words of a great prayer so that we “pass through things temporal that we lose not the things eternal.”  It is not the fact of desire that is our problem; it is often the type of satisfaction we expect from what our hearts desire.  We often place eternal desires on temporal things which can’t do anything but buckle under the weight. 

The hymnwriters get this.  Even if one is a sage and supposedly trained their desires for higher things, even those ideologies and deep desires are not the proper object.  Brighter visions beam afar.  All earthly desires should point us to our great desire.  To know our creator and be known by Him.   Christmas is that creator coming to us in order to be known.  Christmas is that creator not just knowing us, but loving us.

Everything else we place our desires upon ultimately fails.  It is only God who is an infinite source of satisfaction. As Augustine said, “we are restless, until we find our rest in thee.” So much of life is about training ourselves to have the right desires.  To binding our hearts to those things which do bring peace.  When the manger orders our desires, when we come and worship the Christ the newborn King, we allow Him to satisfy our deepest desires setting our hearts at peace so that we might rightly receive all the rest of the gifts of his providence.  When we receive first the eternal, the temporal adorns it like so many perfect ornaments.  Even the broken ones which speak of a day of mending.

The Right Time

Lesson Basis: James 5:7-11

It amuses me what bits stick in our minds and which ones fly away almost as soon as they are placed in them.  For example, Luther’s Small Catechism explanations are highly memorable and spiritually invaluable, yet to get confirmands to memorize them is a chore.  Yet, I’d bet that 80% of Lutherans immediately remember that Luther once called the Epistle of James and “epistle of straw” or that Luther once said “sin boldly.” Now, “sin boldly” is actually a very deep reflection on the gospel and the reality of life in this world. Most of our choices are not black and white, and even black and white ones our personal motivations tend toward gray shades.  This is the reality of our fallen nature.  Luther’s “sin boldly” is more importantly have faith that God knows our frame and has covered all our sins in Jesus, so make the best choices you can in the moment and trust God.  “The epistle of straw” was one I bet that Luther wishes he had back.  Luther was a polemicist.  The vast majority of the things he wrote were engaged in conflict of some type.  And the problem, still present with us today, is that when we are being polemic, we tend toward hyperbole or outright “fake news.” It is easier to make your “enemies” and their sources unclean than it is to argue the ideas.  Hence the epistle of straw.  And while it is true that some scripture ends up being more impactful than others, the letters of Paul have always been the spine of the New Testament, setting Paul against James is not a good idea.  They need to be reconciled because they share the same faith.

And what makes Luther’s quip so tough is that the reconciliation is part of what he was complaining about.  Luther didn’t like James at the time he wrote because it didn’t pronounce the gospel as strongly as Paul.  James leans more on the law, and even beyond the law you could call James New Testament wisdom literature – the New Testament Proverbs.  And the Proverb that is placed before us today is on the virtue of patience.  “Be patient, therefore, brothers, until the coming of the Lord. See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient about it, until it receives the early and the late rains. You also, be patient.”

Being patient is not an American virtue.  We are the people of the fast food drive through.  We invented immediate gratification. Of course we could argue that it is these things taken to their fulfillment that are killing us.  Our entire food supply chain geared around what turns out to be unhealthy. Amazon Prime delivery promising us everything in two days, only to be depressed when whatever we ordered doesn’t bring us happiness. Patience is a virtue that we might need some lessons on.

But James on patience is keyed directly into the gospel.  “You have seen the purpose of the Lord, how the Lord is compassionate and merciful.”  You know what God is about and who He is.  Christ has revealed this to us.  He justifies sinners.  Does everything happen when we want it to happen? No.  It doesn’t in simple material matters.  Heck, even a slow line at McDonalds can get us frustrated.  Things spiritual don’t happen on our timelines either.  Things spiritual happen at the right time.  Things spiritual happen “after the early and later rains.” Things spiritual happen on God’s time.  Patience for James is waiting on God to be exactly who we know he is.  And Job is his example. Yes, waiting can be suffering, but long after this is gone in my flesh I shall see God (Job 19:26). It’s an Advent message.  God keeps his promises. Wait for that right time.

Midweek Vespers – An Explainer

If you have not been to a mid-week service for a while, or just not with me leading them, it is worth an explanation of what you might expect.  Probably the most practical thing is that I aim for the service to be between 20 and 30 minutes.  Their purpose is not a midweek Sunday.  It is a daily office.  Prayer at the close of day, but for a time during a season of preparation like Advent for communal prayer and praise.  The order of service is the canonical office of Vespers.

Now what does that string of words mean?  Canonical is a fancy word for regular. The canon of scripture is the list of regularly accepted books.  The ministers of a Cathedral church were known as the canons. The canons would lead prayer at regular intervals throughout the day.  The Didache, the first catechism coming from the 2nd century, encouraged Christians to pray three times a day.  That would have been morning, evening and at mid-day.  These canonical hours were expressions of living in community.  The canons, or the monks when monasticism grew and often replaced the canons, followed the daily office.  And the community around would join as desired.  It remains an open question to me if any of us moderns live in community.  Yes, we all live in communities, but do we know our neighbors? What do we share with them? These simple regular or canonical services were about shared burdens and joys.  They were the daily prayer and praise of living communities. But that is a deeper question of modern life.

The office of Vespers is the office that was originally sung after the day’s work had been accomplished, but usually before the evening meal.  Compline, meaning completion, was the prayer before bed.  But much of that was dependent upon the sun.  Vespers consists typically of a Psalm, a reading, a homily, prayer and a couple of hymns.  It is the type of thing that one could do alone (minus the homily) or within a family grouping.  This was often the encouragement of the Reformation which saw the extended family as the lived community and the father as the liturgical head of that community.

The one great distinction of the office of Vespers is its use of the Magnificat or Mary’s Song.  This is the song Mary sang carrying Jesus when greeted by Elizabeth carrying John the Baptist. You can find the biblical version and that story in Luke 1.  That song throughout the ages has inspired many different musical settings and translations.  Our hymnbook contains a beautiful chant version that is probably a bridge too far.  Maybe at some future time I will see if I can get the choir to prepare it for us to hear it.  Instead, what I have planned for these services is a tour of the hymn versions of the Magnificat that our hymnbook contains.  Mary’s profound words deserve such a place of honor in our prayer and praise.

So, what can you expect? Hopefully a short encouraging gathering of a community of prayer and praise.  A turning or returning to God in faith and hope and then toward one another in love in a season of preparation.

Thanksgiving Rituals

Think for a second about the rituals of Thanksgiving.  Most of them are food: Turkey, stuffing, pumpkin pie with some region and family variation. The further south you go the more pecan pie and mac-n-cheese show up.  In the Midwest the “green stuff” – you know the pistachio pudding and dream whip salad – and French’s Onion green beans are staples. But there are more.  Families still gather, many over great distances.  The annual report of the misery of being stuck in the airport on the “largest travel day of the year” is a ritual. The President pardoning the Turkeys which unfortunately seems to have erased the much deeper ritual of a written Thanksgiving proclamation which has roots in George Washington and before.  And we shouldn’t forget the football games.  And if you skipped any of these things, especially if someone thought you skipped them intentionally, it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving.  You can try and add stuff.  Maybe over time new things replace old, but probably not.

That is the American Thanksgiving liturgy.  And this is probably my most controversial claim, the rituals come first. It is through the liturgies that we learn the meanings and become part of something larger than ourselves. How do you know that you are at “the big game?” The really big game gets a Stealth Bomber flyover, although the Blue Angles also count. Having the Goodyear Blimp present is the entry stakes on a big game.  But the invocation of “the game” always starts with the presentation of the colors – the flags and the teams – and the playing of the national anthem.   That is the liturgy of the game and the creation of the congregation of the game.  Mess with the liturgies or rituals and people know that you are messing with the real meanings.  They might not be able to express in words what those meanings are, but they know them from repeated invocation.

We are all creatures of habit.  The real question is not if we are going to have habits – rituals, liturgies.  The question is if we are going to develop good ones, or poor ones.  As Ben Franklin/Poor Richard would say, “early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.”  Few do it, but doing your homework immediately at the end of the school day is a liturgy of success. Not to mention that you get to spend your evening having fun without worry.  This is all in the realm of what the Bible would call wisdom literature.  Does it work this way for everyone? Absolutely not. But this is the thing about wisdom literature as Joshua Gibbs wittily put it, “Ways a man can live by, if he is not so foolish as to think himself special.”

This power and necessity of ritual, of liturgy, is something that the church knew for millennia but seems to have forgotten in some mad push for originality.  But even originality turns into ritual.  The demand for “prayers from the heart” turns into “Lord Jesus, we just wanna ask…”.  The third time through a chorus comes with the demand to “raise those hands in worship.”  Even supposedly non-liturgical traditions have a liturgy.  The question really is what does it teach, what meaning does it encapsulate.  This insight is old enough to have a latin phrase, “lex orandi, lex credendi” – the law of worship is the law of belief. How you worship says what you believe better than what you would say.  Is the man who does not fall asleep watching football on thanksgiving really giving thanks?

The Christian Liturgy I think tells us two key things.  The God who has made himself known is The Father, The Son and the Holy Spirit. This God makes His grace present for His people here. He has promised to be here in Word and Sacrament which are the means of that grace.  We don’t show up to give God anything.  We show up to receive his grace.  Wherever two or three are gathered in His name. For which Thanksgiving is a proper liturgical response.

Sea of Stars

(Note, in the past I did not post my weekly “newsletter” articles. I don’t know why. I used to tell myself they seemed more congregation specific. But more specific than the sermons which I do post? So, I’m going to start posting them. In the newsletter they are called “Pastor’s Corner” and so that is the category you will find them under. They often, although not always, are reflections on one of the other lectionary texts of the week.)

Did you catch the first images from the James Webb satellite telescope?  The one that basically replaces the Hubble that was deployed over the summer?  Here is a link:  https://www.nasa.gov/webbfirstimages. I know people have alternate responses to such things.  The militant atheists took the photo of that stella maris, the now much bigger sea of stars, and quipped “imagine thinking that you are in any way consequential.” And if I am staring at those photos as a pure expression the holiness of God, yeah, I get it. A holy unknown god should cause stark raving terror at the vast gulf between it and us.  There is something mischievously funny that every step we seem to make in knowledge of the universe, it reveals that the universe is both infinitely bigger and more strange than we thought.  It is almost like God chuckling, “oh, you think you have plumbed my depths and now comprehend the foundations, that you could answer my question to Job “were you there (Job 38:4)” with a yes? Well now, take a look at this.”  That vastness of space stares back at us as a metaphor for the unknown god.  And if god was simply unknown I think my conclusion would run along the lines of H.P. Lovecraft.  But God has not remained unknown.  God has revealed himself to us in Jesus Christ.

When I think of the last Sunday of the Church Year, sometimes called Christ the King Sunday, my mind takes me to those cosmic images.  That is where our Epistle reading for the day (Colossians 1:13-20) goes. The first thing that the Apostle Paul wants us to know is that “The Father has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the Kingdom of his beloved Son.”  We have been removed from staring at that vast dark cold sea of stars and been placed in Christ.  The impersonal has been replaced with the named.  The second thing Paul wants us to know is that this is good news.  You could (or at least I could) image a deity where that unknowing and uncaring space was better. You don’t have to think too hard.  Any of the idols or the old pagan gods would be such.  The pagans didn’t seek the gods so much as give their sacrifices to keep them away, to ensure they continued to slumber. Because being on a first name with a pagan god usually ended poorly.  But what Paul wants us to know is that in the Kingdom of Christ we are not insignificant slaves.  In Christ, “we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.”

And in Christ we are far from inconsequential.  In some of that cosmic language Paul wants us to know exactly who this Christ is.  “All things were created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.”  That entire sea of stars – “the visible and invisible, thrones, dominions, rulers, authorities” – is his.  Yet in Jesus “the fullness of God was pleased to dwell.”  God was pleased to reveal himself in Jesus.  And He revealed himself for this purpose, “to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross.” God revealed himself to make peace.  God revealed himself by putting His “skin in the game.” And more than just skin, His blood.  God left that vast sea of stars to dwell in fullness with us, to save us.

The God who hides behind that sea of stars has come to us.  The God who has the power to make the stella maris, placed all that power in Jesus to save us.  Far from inconsequential, you have been invited into that divine life. You have been transferred from the darkness to the Kingdom.