Transcript
(music)
Our help is in the name of the Lord who made the heavens and the earth. This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it. Let us worship God.
(congregational singing)
Let us pray. Let the good news come. Now our Father not only in word but in power, in the Holy Spirit and with full assurance through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. Listen to the Word of God as it is read from the Gospel According to Luke, the first chapter beginning at the 39th verse. In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary's greeting, the child leaped in her womb
and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me that the mother of my Lord comes to me? This is the Word of the Lord. Thanks be to God. Christmas is for Christians a time of great affirmation. We affirm not only that there is a God, we affirm that God loves the world. We
affirm that God loves the world enough to give the very best. We affirm that this gift of God's love is a person, Jesus of Nazareth. We affirm that this person is the Christ of Israel. We affirm that this Christ is the Savior of the world. We affirm that this Savior is God's Son and that God's Son is our Lord. And because we make such affirmations, we also ask questions. Our affirmations compel us to ask questions. Not
the questions of unbelievers, but the questions of believers. Not the questions of outsiders, but the questions of insiders. The Christmas story itself, as told by Luke, raises these questions, voices these questions, articulates these questions. They are the questions of people whose lives have been touched by this story. And for that reason, they are also our questions. We ask with Zechariah, how shall I know? We ask with Mary, how can this be? And we ask with Elizabeth,
why me, Lord? Why me? Zechariah's question concerns our knowledge of God's truth. Mary's question concerns the possibility of God's action. Elizabeth's question concerns the mystery of God's election. Hers is the question everyone asks who meets Jesus Christ and recognizes in him the reality of God's redeeming love. The way Luke tells the story, the question of Elizabeth is the confession of faith. By asking it, she acknowledges that the child in Mary's womb is the Christ of God.
And why is this granted me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? Because of the difference in our historical circumstances, we ask the question differently, but it is still the same question. We meet Christ in the proclamation of the Gospel. We encounter Christ in the presence and power of the Holy Spirit. We experience the reality of his redeeming love through the Holy Spirit that has been poured into our hearts. And we ask, why
is this granted me, that my Lord should come to me? Or, why is this gift given to me? Or, why is this blessing accorded to me? It is the question that arises out of our wonder and our awe. It is the question that emerges from our gratitude and our thankfulness. If there's an element of unbelief in it, it is the incredulity that always accompanies the surprise of good fortune. Who am I that this should happen to
me? Who am I that God should love me so? Why me, Lord? Why me? Honesty compels me to admit that I'm more familiar with that question in circumstances of duress. It's the question I'm more inclined to ask when life is going against me than when it's going my way. When I'm feeling neglected or picked on or singled out for special disfavor, then I find myself asking, why me, Lord? Why me? Like the man whose life fell
apart one day. He lost his job, his wife left him, his children walked out on him, his friends turned against him, so in his despair, he decided to immigrate to Australia and start over. But on the way, his ship ran into a terrible storm and began to sink. When he got to the life jackets, they were all gone. When he got to the life boats, they were all full. So he jumped into the water and grabbed
some wreckage as a float, and two days later he washed ashore on a deserted South Sea island. And as he sat there on the beach, he looked up to heaven and asked, why me, Lord? Why me? And from out of the clouds, he heard a rumbling voice reply, oh, I don't know, there's just something about you that ticks me off. It's an apocryphal story, of course. But I suspect that the feeling it expresses is more widespread
than we imagine. We lose a good job or a desired promotion and we ask, why me, Lord? Our marriage suddenly becomes a struggle and we ask, why me, Lord? Our children prove themselves a greater challenge than we had anticipated and we ask, why me, Lord? Right on, brother. Illness strikes unexpectedly and we ask, why me, Lord? Oh, I know we have other ways of dealing with such matters. We tell ourselves, such as life, or we tell
others, that's the way the ball bounces, the cookie crumbles. But the counsel of the stoics has never been very satisfying. And so we find our paranoia rising and life looking more like a great conspiracy against us. We can't catch a green light for trying. We're always second in line for the one open parking space and someone else ever gets the last seat on the commuter train. And we find ourselves asking, why me, Lord? Why me? But
Christmas speaks to this question and it speaks to it in such a way that the question is redirected and transformed. It is transformed from a question born of frustration into a question born of faith. It is chained from a question of pain into a question of praise. It is turned from a question of bitterness and complained into a question of wonder and awe. Elizabeth's question is the question of each and every person who meets Jesus Christ
and receives from him the love that only God can give. In a Christmas column in the Christian Century some years ago, Martin Marty used Dr. Spock to elaborate on the meaning of the incarnation. When the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, Marty wrote, He took upon himself all of the conditions of being human and being young, accidents, acne, allergy, baths, bleeding, blisters, circumcision, coughing, diapers, earwax, fever, glands, hiccups, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. And
he did that for me. He did that for you. He did that for us. The love that motivated him is universal in its scope, but it is ever individual in its focus. Think of it. The Christ had accidents, acne, and allergy for you. The Christ endured baths, bleeding, and blisters for you. The Christ lived through fever, glands, and hiccups for you. Not for you alone, to be sure, but for you nonetheless. That's why Elizabeth's question is
such a personal question. Why should it be given to me that my Lord should come to me? Indeed, why? This table is prepared for all those who are prepared to ask this morning. Why me, Lord? Why me? And to hear the answer. Oh, there's just something about you that I love. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Let us now remember the attention of the worthy institution of
the Holy Supper of our Lord Jesus Christ, who is one of our other apostles. For I have received from the Lord, that which I also give unto you, that the Lord Jesus, on the night in which he was betrayed with bread, and when he had been fast, he broke it, and said, This is my body, broken for you. Do this, and recover it to me. In the same way, also, he took the cup after supper, saying,
This cup is the new covenant in my body. Do this, as often as you drink it, and you present it in the Supper. For as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord's hand, until he comes. And now, when history begins today, we take these elements to be sent apart by prayer and thanksgiving, as a safety piece to achieve, as it were made. Let us pray. Holy God, we praise you.
Let the heavens be joyful, and the earth be glad. We bless you for creating the whole world, for your promises to your people Israel, and for Jesus Christ, in whom your fullness dwells. Born and married, he shares our life. Eating with sinners, he welcomes us. Guiding his children, he leads us. Visiting the sick, he heals us. Dying on the cross, he saves us. Risen from the dead, he gives new life. Living with you, he craves for
us. With thanksgiving, we take this bread and this cup, and proclaim the death and resurrection of our Lord. Receive our sacrifice and praise. For God will bestow upon us what this meal may be in communion in the body and blood of Jesus. Make us one with Christ, and with all who share his peace. Unite us in faith, encourage us with hope, inspire us to love, that we may serve in your faithful disciples until we feast at
your table of glory. We praise you, eternal God, who cries the word and flesh in the holy and light-giving spirit, now and forever. Amen. On the night in which he was betrayed, our Savior took bread, and when he had given it back, he had cut it down and he broke it. He gave it to his disciples, as I have illustrated in his name, and I will read it to you. Say, take, eat, this
is my body, eat, broken for you. In the same way, also, after suffering, he took the cup, said, Set this cup, and this cup in, and put it on the table. Do this as often as you may do, in remembrance of me. Let us come down to the Lord's table to receive the gifts, which Christ himself seeks to give.
(Communion Rite; music)
Let us pray. Receive our thanks, O Lord, for the godly of your love, goodness, and mercy toward us. In the reality of this gift, we are, as the full makers, in the assurance to us of faith, in the call to us for love, that we did in it, and did out of it, in today's day. Grant safe, travel-mercies now to all who depart this place for their homes during this holy season. Give us great joy and
celebration of the work of your son, our Lord. Bring us together again in the new year, that we may hear your healing, prepare, and serve you, through Jesus Christ our Lord, in whose name we pray. Amen.
(music)