Sermon for the 4th Sunday of Advent: December 22, 2013

Sermon for Advent 4: December 22, 2013

Matthew 1:18-25

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith

“What’s in a name?”

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

The website BabyCenter recently released its annual baby name report, including a list of the most unusual names of the year. This year’s list includes, for girls: Blip, Fairy, and Kiwi. For boys, the list contains: Ajax, Cheese, Danish, Egypt, Jag, Panda, and Rocket. That’s right, I said “Cheese”. Someday, there could be a little Senator Cheese or Pastor Cheese or Doctor Cheese in your life.

Oh, but wait: it gets better! On this same website you can search for other unusual names from past years. You can find out, for example, that there have been multiple babies named Swag, Hotdog, Butterbean, Phone, Freak, Poopy, Superman, Mushroom, and Elbow. Actually, in 2009, there were three babies named Elbow. One has to wonder if Elbow had a brother named Kneecap and a sister named Bellybutton. Or, maybe he had a twin named Macaroni…

What’s in a name? Does it matter what we are called? Naming my first son Caleb was easy: his was the only name (and I mean the only name!) Robert and I could agree on. In fact, we joked that if he turned out to be a girl, he would simply have to be Calebina, because we couldn’t imagine agreeing on another name.

Some of you know already how our second child, Zion, was almost (but not quite) named Micah, with our plans thwarted when we got to know our pastor’s son, who was 14 years old and also named Mikah. But I don’t think I’ve mentioned how, once we got around to choosing “Zion” as the alternative, we got stuck on a middle name. This baby was due to be born 2 days after Christmas, so Robert and I thought it should be something Christmas-y. This would have been easier for a girl—you could always go with Noelle, or Holly, or Ivy, or the ever-popular Mary. It was a little harder for a boy, but even so, we were very excited to tell some friends we had decided on… “Emmanuel”. Zion Emmanuel Smith.

To say our friends reacted badly would be an understatement. “Oh, for the love of all that is holy!” they said. “This baby is already growing up as the pastor’s kid. Can you at least give him ONE normal name? Don’t do that to him.”

Yep…And that is how our second child became Zion ROBERT. Also, he was born nearly 3 weeks early, on December 8, which sort of ruined the whole Christmas-cutesy thing anyway.

So, what’s in a name? How much does it matter what we are called? In the birth story of the Messiah that we heard this morning, baby names are everything. The author of the Gospel of Matthew says “This is how the birth of the Messiah happened” and then instead of telling about the labor and the contractions, the story begins with Mary and Joseph’s engagement, some surprising pregnancy news, and then a dream in which an angel gives Joseph baby-naming advice. After suggesting he put “Jesus” at the top of the list, the angel goes on to repeat a prophecy from many centuries before:

“Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel, which means God with us.”

“You shall name him Jesus” and “They shall name him Emmanuel.” Have you noticed? In the Bible, no one seems to consult baby name books or websites before bestowing names upon people. Names in Scripture more often come from angels or from dreams. Names are even changed after close encounters with God. In this case, the baby born to Mary and Joseph receives two names: Jesus is the name Mary and Joseph will give him, following the angel’s advice. Emmanuel is the name the world will give him. 

“They shall name him Emmanuel, which means God with us.” Just as “Christ” isn’t Jesus’ last name, “Emmanuel” isn’t his middle name. “Emmanuel” is rather a description of Jesus’ life and ministry. It’s a title that speaks not only of Jesus as baby in a manger, but Jesus as healer, as itinerant preacher, and as prophet. This moniker, “Emmanuel”, tells us something special about this baby: it reveals that wherever Jesus is, God is present. Jesus is “God with us.”

Remember, the hope of a child being born who would be called “Immanuel, God with us” didn’t begin with this angel’s announcement in Joseph’s, but was spoken through the book of Isaiah long before. This was a hope that carried the people of God through exile and oppression, through times of persecution and famine. To understand how the hope of “God with us” could be so powerful, consider for a moment the value of presence. No, not “presents” like we have wrapped and waiting under the Christmas tree, but presence.

Consider the experience of trying to talk to a customer service representative on the phone or through online chat, and how sometimes you would do anything just to have a real person to look in the eyes and ask your question. Can I get an Amen? Or, consider the modern miracle of Skype and FaceTime and email. These innovations have changed life for those who live or travel or work overseas, because now we can see and hear each other instantly and (nearly) for free. No more Airmail or telegrams or, even worse, weeks with no contact at all. But ask any grandparent whose grandchildren live in another country, or anyone whose spouse is deployed overseas, about the value of “presence”, and they will tell you that the ability to hug and touch and feel a loved one is far better than cyber communication across the miles. Amen?

“God with us” means God is present with us. God keeps company with us. The church-y word for it is “incarnation”. The Gospel of John puts it this way: “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth.” (John 1:14) The writer Frederick Buechner makes it plainer: “Moses at the burning bush was told to take off his shoes because the ground on which he stood was holy ground (Exodus 3:5), and the incarnation means that all ground is holy ground because God not only made it but walked on it, ate and slept and worked and died on it.” (“Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC” p. 43)

When the angel told Joseph this baby would be called Emmanuel, God with us, it was more than helpful naming advice. This was the announcement that the hope of God’s people was about to be fulfilled: God was coming near. The divine, holy Other would soon have skin on. God, the almighty, creator of all things, would not be living in a land far away or housed in a place or time any more special than this one. The birth of the baby called Emmanuel means that this is a holy place, right here. This is sacred time, right now. This is God’s tabernacle, wherever two or three are gathered in his name.

And sisters and brothers, this is what it means for you that this particular baby, born in Bethlehem and laid in a manger, is the one who is called Emmanuel, God with us:

If an animal’s feeding trough is a holy enough place for God to hang out, then so is your car, and your living room, your dinner table and your work cubicle.

If an unmarried, teenage girl is holy enough to carry God within her womb and in doing so, change the world, then so are your hands holy enough to do God’s work for the sake of the world.

And if a newborn baby’s body—crying, hungry, wiggly and needy—is honored and respected by God as holy ground, then so is your body to be honored and respected, treated as the holy temple that it is. And, to take it a step further, if the incarnation means that all ground is holy ground, then so too is every body a holy body: Yours and mine. Able and differently abled. Black, white and brown. LGBTQ & A (and every other letter of the alphabet for that matter). “God with us” means God is with all of us, no exceptions.

Dear friends, the next time we gather together, it will be to celebrate what has been spoken by the prophets, revealed in a dream to Joseph, and announced to Mary by the angel Gabriel: That the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel’, which means, ‘God is with us.’ Be not afraid--the king shall come! All earth is hopeful, the Savior comes at last! Mary and Joseph named him Jesus. We call him Savior, our light in the darkness, prince of peace, and our long-expected Jesus, come to set the people free. We call him Emmanuel, God-with-us. Thanks be to God, for the most precious gift of presence. Amen.

Sermon for Advent 3: December 15, 2013

Sermon for Advent 3: December 15, 2013

Matthew 11:2-11

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith

Grace and peace to you, from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Sisters and brothers of Bethany, I’m sorry to have to stand here and say this, especially on such a festive, snowy December morning and on the day of our Children’s Christmas Pageant, but here it is: I think we’re going to have to cancel Christmas this year.

The thing is, I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on the Gospel lesson for this week from Matthew, chapter 11. And while at first I felt very judgmental about John the Baptist and his doubts about Jesus (after all, he was the one who leapt in his mother Elizabeth’s womb when Mary walked in the door—how could he, of all people, doubt Jesus is the Messiah?), at some point it started to make sense to me. John, the prophet who was supposed to be out announcing the coming of the Messiah, was instead sitting in prison. And Jesus, the guy he thought was “the one”, wasn’t doing anything but preaching and healing and eating with sinners. “Prepare the way of the Lord”, preached John. And frankly, I think he expected that if we prepared the royal highway, Jesus would make better use of it. John, and most everybody else, expected that when the Messiah came down that highway there would be a great and dreadful day, a day when evil and sickness and death and violence would be swallowed up and annihilated from the earth. But now John, messenger of the Lord, found himself sitting in prison. And outside, things seemed to be going along as usual.

It’s no wonder John had doubts! In fact, it’s a wonder any of us are sitting here at all, still following this guy Jesus. Because I’ve got to tell you, 2,000 years later, things outside these walls seem to be going as usual, Messiah or not.

Have you read the prayers on our prayer wall? Cancer. Death. Grief. Unemployment. So many people are still waiting for answers.

And have you watched the news? It’s been one year since Newtown; eight months since Boston; seven months since the tornados in Oklahoma; one month since the typhoon in the Philippines; and just 2 days since the last school shooting. So much pain! The whole world is still waiting for answers.

And this is why, dear people, I think we should cancel Christmas. Because, considering the evidence at hand, maybe Jesus really isn’t “the one”. Could this really the “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace” we’ve been waiting for, when he has clearly failed to eliminate evil from the world?

Listen, I know this comes as a shock, but never fear: I’ve sent a letter to Jesus (apparently he doesn’t do email) asking him to positively identify himself before we go to all the expense of throwing him a birthday party this year. After all, if he’s not really the one, then we need to save our resources to celebrate the guy (or girl) who is. If he’s not really the one, then we can stop fighting the “War on Christmas” everyone keeps talking about. And if Jesus is not the one we’ve been waiting for—and I’ve got to tell you, things aren’t looking good at this point—then I really need to start looking at new job opportunities.

Now I was hoping to get a reply before this morning’s sermon, but either the mail was held up, or Jesus was just too busy (or maybe had nothing to say for himself) because I haven’t received any kind of answer yet. So, until further notice, I think we’ll just have to put Christmas on hold.

PAUL: “Oh, sorry, Carrie, I forgot to tell you something. We did actually get a letter from Jesus the other day.” (pulls it out of his pocket from under his robes).

CARRIE: “Really? Paul, why didn’t you tell me?!”

PAUL: “Well, you know, it’s been a little busy around here this time of year.”

CARRIE: “OK, well, don’t keep us in suspense! What does he say?”

PAUL: “He says:

“Dear Carrie: Don’t cancel Christmas! Tell the people what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me. Also, next time, use Twitter. Signed, Jesus.” (Paul sits down)

CARRIE:

Is that it? That’s all it says? Well that’s perfect, Jesus. Just great. Tell the people what you hear and see. That’s your proof? Nice try.

Tell them what you hear and see.

OK, tell them the blind receive their sight: Well, this is easy to disprove, because we have a member right here at Bethany who is blind. In fact she was born that way. Her name is Hannah, and last I checked Hannah still had not received her sight. But then again…something miraculous did happen this week. Many of you generously contributed cash and even mileage points so Hannah and her brothers could go to Disneyworld this Christmas! Of course, Hannah won’t be able to see Mickey, but she’ll hear him, and she’ll feel the rides, and her parents and brothers will receive the gift of memories with her in the Magic Kingdom. “The blind receive their sight.” Do you suppose this is what Jesus means? Do you see what I see? If so, give me an Amen, sisters and brothers!

Jesus said, “Tell them the lame walk”:

Now this one’s tough. I’ve noticed lots of folks walking around with limps lately (me included!) In fact, last Monday our Bible study group gathered, and there was Dick hobbling around with his new titanium toe, and Beth came in on crutches after breaking her foot, and I had just come from yet another visit with the podiatrist. We were a pretty sorry bunch. But you know what? During that meeting, we shared our prayers and concerns, not only about our aching feet, but about the recent death of a parent, the hope of a job interview after long-term unemployment, and the joys of grandchildren about to be born. We laughed and cried and even did a bit of Bible study. We prayed for each other. And when we left, all of us were walking with renewed strength and hope. “The lame walk.” Do you hear what I hear?

Jesus said, “Tell them the lepers are cleansed”:

I have to admit, I don’t know any lepers personally. But I do know that lepers in Jesus’ time were not just sick. They were outcasts, shoved to the edge of town where no one would have to look at them or be infected by them. So I can tell you something I have seen and heard – I’ve received a number of emails from folks who have felt estranged from God for a number of reasons: Some have a gay son or daughter. Some have been divorced and remarried. Some had questions and doubts they never felt safe to ask, so they stayed away instead. But because they’ve experienced Jesus’ wide, extravagant welcome offered not only by Bethany but by the ELCA, they are no longer lepers and outcasts, kept outside the city gates. Now they’re coming back, sitting in these pews, eating at this table, and offering their gifts and talents in the service of God. Jesus cleansed the lepers. Sisters and brothers, do you hear what I hear?

The deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have Good News brought to them:

You know, I thought this would be hard, but I think we’re on a roll! I know some whose ears had never heard a word of grace and forgiveness in their lives, who have heard Good News for the first time right here, in the name of Christ. Because of Jesus, I’ve seen people raised to new life from the darkness of grief, depression, or addiction. I’ve seen how the poor and the homeless have experienced Good News through the ministries of PADS, the Food Pantry, and the Diaper Bank. And thanks to our sponsored missionaries (Danae and Steve Hudson and the Stubbs family) and our own ELCA mission personnel, Rafael and Robert, I have heard how the Good News has been shared all over the world.

Jesus said to tell the people what I’ve seen and heard. Sisters and brothers, do you hear what I hear? Do you see what I see?

So maybe we shouldn’t cancel Christmas after all! After all, even John the Baptist shared doubts at times. And it’s true: the world is not perfect. Bad stuff still happens. Jesus has brought the kingdom, and yet it’s also still on its way. Love has come, a light in the darkness, but we still need to share it. Christmas, then, is not about celebrating one magic day when everything was made perfect. It is about celebrating one night in Bethlehem, when God came near and ushered in a new age--an age of possibility and wonder. An age when it has been revealed to the world, through the birth of a baby, that God is not seated on a throne, far away, but is on the loose in the world, working within and through God’s people. This is our hope. This is our joy. This is who we’ve been waiting for: the child, the child, sleeping in the night. And he will bring us goodness and light. Amen. 

Advent Sermon - Shake Your Presents

Advent Sermon - Matthew 3:1-12

Shake Your Presents

by Pr. Paul Cannon

Grace and Peace Bethany Lutheran Church!

Oh joy.  I’ll tell you what – Advent is a strange season in the church year.  Last week, the gospel text talked about floods and people being left in fields and the need to be watchful.  This week, the gospel text is John the Baptist talking about fire and repentance and baptism.  Again, I say, “oh what joy.”

Though I say that with a hint (wink wink) of sarcasm, part of me wonders if there is a whole lot more to this text than what meets the eye.  With a story that features a wild character like John the Baptist, drawing large crowds of people, it makes you wonder,  “Why?” Why would people walk for miles to listen to this guy. He pretty much hits each item on the avoid-that-guy-checklist.  Crazy man living in the woods? Check.  Is he wearing weird clothes? Check. Does he eat bugs? Check.  Hey, I have an idea, let’s go see what that guy has to say!

Yet here we have John the Baptist preaching repentance to these tremendous crowds of people waiting in line to be baptized. He was drawing so much attention that the religious leaders – the Pharisees and the Sadducees  - were starting to take notice.

There was a buzz about what was going on – an electric feeling in the air that something special was about to happen. I have to imagine that the feeling in the crowd was one of joy and hope. I know how strange it sounds to talk about Joy and Hope when John is preaching about fire and repentance, but in reality, they are not that different.  

In the Bible, repentance is the greatest cause for joy there is.  What happens when the prodigal son repents and turns back home?  The father throws a party.  Though the thought of repenting – the thought of confessing your sins is scary, the actual act is one of hope and joy.  

And not only that, but John the Baptizer was speaking of an even greater hope.  “You think what I’m doing is great?” He’d tell the crowd, “Something – Some ONE – better is on the way. I’m not even worthy to carry his shoes for him.” 

You see - the Jewish people were longing for the Messiah. They knew that Isaiah prophesied about a leader who was coming to stand in solidarity with the poor and the oppressed, the immigrants and the homeless, the downtrodden and the powerless.  

They were taught that this shoot from Jesse’s tree was coming to bring justice and peace to an unjust and violent world.  Isaiah prophesied, quote, “with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth.”  And that “The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf (with) the lion.” For a people who felt far more like the lamb than the lion, I have to imagine this was joyous news. 

So yes, I think is a story about joy and hope, but it’s a different kind of joy.  It’s not Christmas joy, because Christ hasn’t arrived on scene yet.  This is advent joy – it’s the joy of waiting … it’s the joy of anticipation … it’s the joy of hope.

We are all familiar with anticipation around this time of year.  It reminds me in a lot of ways of people eagerly anticipating the opening of their Christmas presents sitting under evergreens in living rooms across the country.  

You all know that feeling right?  Even if you don’t get quite as excited for your grown up gifts anymore (oh boy, a sweater!), you at least remember what it was like to open presents as a kid. I love kids at Christmas time, because they are the WORST at hiding how excited they are to open their gifts.  

As soon as somebody puts a present under the tree, what’s the first thing a child does?  They … “Shake it.”  Right!  They pick it up, and they feel how heavy it is … they judge the dimensions of the package … they listen for the rattle of a new toy - or the gentle swish, swish, swish of a pair of pajamas.  It’s pure joy – before they ever open the package.

Of course, that’s all part of the fun.  Growing up, my brother and I somehow began holding wrapping competitions to see who could fool the other person the most.  One of us would get the other something like a video game and then we would wrap that in a box – heavily fortified with duct tape – and then we would wrap that box in another box – also heavily fortified with duct tape (I’m sure we spent a fortune on duct tape).  And then another box and another layer, until we had the Fort Knox of Christmas gifts.

It even came to the point where we would scavenge around the house looking for items to put in the box to make it heavier, or make weird noises when you shook it.  On Christmas day, the receiver of the gift would inevitably find a baby rattle or the hammer that had been missing from Dad’s tool box for the past month. Trust me when I say – we spared no expense in our wrapping jobs.

It’s hard to know exactly why we spent so much time and energy wrapping up our gifts like this – certainly a big part of this was brotherly one-upsmanship.  Watching the other guy go through the agony of opening layer after layer of the duct-tape-fortified-gift, made the eventual opening of the gift even sweeter. 

But underneath it all, was a feeling that wrapping made the anticipation for the gift opening that much more enjoyable.  There is something about waiting in hope for the day you get to open your present, that produces a child-like joy of its own.

And I think that’s the sort of the feeling that was in the air when John the Baptist was running around the country declaring that something big was on the way – that the Savior, prophesied by Isaiah, was about to roll into town.  It was a feeling of joy and hope.

And then there’s the joy of repentance – the joy of faith – letting go of your old sinful self, to experience the joy and freedom found only – found only - in God’s grace.

The old stereotype that church is stuffy and boring always sounds strange to me for that reason.  Faith is exciting!  I love this stuff.  There is incredible joy in journeying together through all the ups and downs of life.  Reading the Bible, singing hymns, and praying for one another are the greatest sources of hope and joy that this world has to offer.

When you understand this, you’ll know that faith, community and church aren’t just another item on the to-do list, but they are essential aspects of our lives.  Connecting with God – whether it’s through scripture or prayer or music or community or whatever – is what gives life flavor and meaning.

That’s the joy of faith that I think the crowds who were following John the Baptist - this wild-eyed, bug-eating preacher - must have been experiencing.  They were connecting with God’s grace in a way that resonated with them – in a way that brought them joy and hope that the world couldn’t offer. 

That’s why in Paul’s letter to the Romans, he talks about the joy of believing and he asks that our God, the God of Hope to, quote “fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” 

May the God of Hope fill you with all joy in believing.  We forget that, don’t we?  Faith wasn’t meant to be a chore.  Going to church wasn’t meant to be an obligation.  Faith is joy.  Faith is hope.  Faith is the look on a child’s face when they know the present they hope for is waiting for them wrapped under the Christmas tree. 

During this season of Advent, as we all wait to unwrap the gift waiting for us in the manger, my prayer for all of you is that God fills you with that same child-like joy.  I want you to shake this gift of faith – trying to find out what is inside.  I want you to savor the season, like children eagerly waiting for Christmas morning.  I want you to soak everything in as we slowly add decorations around the sanctuary – one Christmas wreath at a time – one layer of duct tape at a time.  

Before I finish here, there’s something I want you to do: I want you to figure out what brings you joy during this Christmas season.  With so much business and stress, it’s easy to focus on the negative.  It’s easy to complain.  But right now, I want you to close your eyes … take a few deep breaths … and picture whatever it is that brings you the most joy in this Advent season.  (wait) Now open your eyes, turn to your neighbor, and tell them what you thought of. 

And now let me leave you one more time with the blessing of the Apostle Paul, “May the God of Hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope, by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

Amen.

Christ the King Sermon: Homeward Bound

Christ the King Sunday: Luke 23:33-43

Homeward Bound

Pr. Paul Cannon

Grace and peace Bethany Lutheran Church!

Our gospel reading today, sort of reminds me of when, as a camp counselor, we used to heat the sauna up to like 200-250 degrees (don't try this at home), and then sprint down the hill and jump off the docks into the frigid, recently thawed, waters of Lake Vermilion in northern Minnesota.   

As we plunged into the ice bath, the shock of the temperature change would literally make you see stars. Not that sauna’s and lake jumps have anything at all to do with the text, except to say that reading about the passion of Jesus Christ in November, strangely feels like jumping into frigid waters as we prepare for the warm fuzzy feelings of the holidays.

Today is Christ the King Sunday, and it’s a day where our lectionary – the three year cycle of Bible readings – gives us this out of place text about Jesus being crucified next to two criminals.  It’s like we all fell asleep and woke up in April, just in time to celebrate Lent and Easter (sorry kids, you missed Christmas this year).  It’s the church calendar equivalent of doing a sauna lake jump. You shouldn’t jump into a Minnesota lake in May, just like you shouldn’t jump into the passion narrative in November – especially not right before Thanksgiving and Advent … but here we go.

I will say however that the readings for the day (from Jeremiah and Luke) are appropriate in this sense – that they are about that very human longing to be home, and how God goes about bringing his people – bringing us – home.  

But in order to understand this, you need to know a bit of the history of the Jewish people.  It’s a history of a people and a country constantly being invaded by larger empires because of it’s important location as a trade route between Europe, Middle East and Egypt.  First, the Assyrians conquer Israel around 700 BCE and then it was the Babylonians around 600 BCE and finally it was the Romans around 60 BCE.  And when the Assyrians and the Babylonians conquer Israel, they don’t just conquer it – they exile thousands of Jews.  They force them out of the cities and homes they lived in to resettle in Babylon and Persia.

As you can imagine, many Jews were desperate to return home, but they were powerless to do so.  And around this time, the prophets started writing about their future homecoming.  They started writing about how God would deliver them from exile in a foreign nation.  And they prophesied that a leader would rise up from amongst the Jews to lead them home.

Jeremiah was one such prophet.  So he writes about the sheep who have been scattered all over the land, and God the Shepherd, promising to gather his people together.  Jeremiah writes, “Then I (God) will gather the remnant of my flock out of all the lands where I have driven them, and I will bring them back to their fold, and they shall be fruitful and multiply.” I will gather them and I will bring them back.  Those became powerful words to a people longing for a homecoming.

Many Jews began to expect a King from the line of David to rise up and

save them, but really they were looking for more than a king. What they wanted was a hero – a messiah, a chosen one who would gather the flock of Israel from across the world – so they could be one big happy family again.  

Of course, if the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays teach us anything, it’s that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Everybody misses their family until they are elbow to elbow for eight hours in a small kitchen with them. You go home for Thanksgiving, and pretty soon, your sister starts to boss you around like you’re ten, you’re fighting for legroom sitting next to your brother in the back of the suburban even though you’re both almost 30 years old, and a pie gets burnt in the oven and somehow that’s your fault even though you followed the instructions EXACTLY! Am I right? The Holidays can be stressful, but then by the time you leave you’re hugging each other saying “Let’s do it again next year!”

And though I say that jokingly, the desire to be with family - the desire to be home – is usually strong enough to bring us back, year after year.  There’s just something irreplaceable about being with your loved ones.  I often miss home. My family is scattered throughout the Midwest and California, and then most of my other relatives are in North Dakota and South Carolina.  Home with family is one of the few places can count on being loved despite your flaws.

I’m sure you have your own stories about missing your home – missing your family.  To that degree, we can understand a little bit about how the Jewish people felt – what it feels like to be hundreds of miles from your loved ones, from your friends and relatives.  The Jewish people were searching for a hero to come and bring them back to the land of their birth.  They wanted a homecoming.

500 years later, in comes Jesus.  And this time, it’s the Romans (not the Babylonians) who are in control of Jerusalem.  And though many Jews returned home from exile by this time, there’s still a deep longing to restore Jerusalem to the way it used to be – to restore their homeland to Jewish control.  

And that’s why the Jews welcome Jesus to Jerusalem on Palm Sunday like a King.  They throw branches down in a path to make way for his arrival because they think he’s come to restore their home.  They want a king who can raise an army and take back their country, from the Romans, but as we know, Jesus is not that kind of King. He’s not Ceasar.  He’s not a conqueror.  He’s not the guy who is going to restore Jerusalem to Jewish control.

When the Jewish leaders discover that Jesus isn’t going to be their political instrument of power, they send him away to be crucified – to die next to criminals.  And the Romans, are too happy to oblige them.  Jesus is tried by Pontius Pilate, and convicted, and sentenced to die a very public execution.

“This is the King of the Jews” were the words inscribed above him on the cross.  They were written there so the world could see what happens to would-be king usurpers.  Of course, there is irony in that statement.  Jesus was a King, but he was a different kind of King, just like the cross was a different kind of throne. 

And that’s exactly the point, isn't it? The cross tells us what kind of King Jesus is and isn’t. He is not a king of political power.  He’s not a king of violence. So what is he? I think that our gospel writer is making the claim that Jesus is indeed, the Messiah, the chosen one prophesied by Jeremiah and Isaiah, to bring his people home. Only it’s not the home that they imagined it would be.

In our gospel story, Jesus is crucified next to two criminals.  One turns to Jesus, half mocking, half pleading and says, “Are you not the Messiah?  Save yourself and us!”  If you know the history, you can hear the irony.  The Messiah was supposed to come as a King to bring his people home.  The Messiah was supposed to come and deliver the people from their oppressors – not die by their hands.

But the other criminal sees only an innocent man dying next to him, so he rebukes the other saying, “This man is innocent of any crime and WE, we are getting what we deserve!” Then he turns to Jesus, pleading with him, “Remember me when you come into your kingdom.”  Remember me, when you get home.

This is a statement from a criminal who had lost his way and knew he was a long way from home. This criminal is the prodigal son returning home, back into the loving arms of God, back to into a relationship with Jesus.  And what this criminal recognizes, that nobody else (even the disciples) recognize, is that Jesus true home was with God.

Jesus’ was going home – to his kingdom. Now do you see it?  The messiah had indeed come to bring his people home – only it wasn’t what everybody was expecting.  It wasn’t a place.  It wasn’t a country.  It was a relationship.

You probably already understand what that means.  When we say we are going “home for the holidays” most of us don’t mean we’re going back to the house we were raised in.  If you’re like me, it doesn’t even mean that you’re going back to the state you were raised in.  It means you’re going to be with family.  Home isn’t being at the place you live – it’s being with the people you love.

So Jesus responds to the criminal “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”  Today, you will be with me. Today, you are coming home. 

The beauty of this story is that it totally reinvents all of our expectations for God.  Where many of the Jews were looking for a King to bring them into political power, the cross is a place where the King opens his arms and welcomes his people home.  The cross is the place where God welcomes the lost and they wayward.  The cross is the place where God gathers his scattered sheep.  

Home becomes more than a location.  It’s a family gathering.  Flaws and all!

And in the end, I think that is what we are all really longing for – a place to be loved, a place to be accepted, a place to call home.  I think we find this home in the loving arms of Jesus on the cross.

So this Thanksgiving, no matter where you are, no matter what you’ve done, no matter if you are alone or with 100 people, I pray you know, that with Christ, you always have a home.

Thanks be to God. Amen.