The first book in Doig’s trilogy about the McCaskill’s of Montana is English Creek (although it’s the second book in the series I read.) Each book stands on its own. Set in the summer of 1939, the story centers on Jick McCaskill. Jick served as the narrative in the final book of the trilogy, Ride with Me Mariah Montana , which I read in 2023. In that book, Jick is at the end of his career, as he ferries his daughter, a newspaper photographer, around Montana for the state’s centennial.
Jick comes of age in English Creek. His older brother, Alec, learns about love and living on his own while Jick learns about the land as he travels with his father, the district ranger. He helps haul supplies to remote camps and fire lookouts. He meets Stanley, a man with a drinking problem and a secret, who introduces Jick to alcohol. And at the end of the summer, he and Stanley run the camp kitchen for the fire crew fighting a dangerous blaze. Then war begins in Europe. In the epilogue, it’s after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Alec joins the military, only to die in North Africa.
Doig does a wonderful job of drawing the reader into the magical country of the American West. I highly recommend this book (and this trilogy).
Ivan Doig, Dancing at the Rascal Fair
(Antheneum Books, 1987), 405 pages
While this is the second novel in Doig’s trilogy of life in the fictious Montana’s “Two Medicine County,” it should have been the first. The novel sketches two young Scottish men, Rob Barclay and Angus McCaskill, who leave their homeland for Montana in 1889. They are looking for Lucas, Rob’s uncle, who has done well in this new country, as evident by his sending back a $100 check every Christmas for the family.
Reaching Montana, it takes a while for them to find Lucas. Finally, they get a lead that he has brought a saloon in Gros Ventre. Catching a ride with a freighter, as there are no stagecoaches or trains running into this part of the state, they find Lucas. They also discover a surprise. Through mining, he has blown off his hands. But he makes do and runs a saloon and has enough money to even help stake the two boys in the sheep business.
Starting from nothing, they stake a claim and build cabins, spending the first winter together. The area in which they homestead becomes known as Scotch Heaven. Rob marries and Angus meets Anna, whom he hopes to marry, but is heartbroken when he marries another man, who raises horses. Before Angus is shunned by Anna, Rob’s sister Adair visits from Scotland for the summer. Angus becomes upset. He realizes Rob has set him up to marry his sister. But after Anna shuns him, Rob marries Adair. It’s not the best marriage, as Rob is still in love with Anna.
Rob and Angus friendship finally breaks over Angus’ ongoing desire for Anna while married to his sister. Interestingly, Adair accepts her status as Angus’ second choice, but the two remain faithful and still have love for each other. Their son, who will eventually become a ranger for the new National Forests and marry Anna’s daughter, goes into the army as the nation enters World War ii. He never made it to Europe and the fighting but remained at a base in Washington State where he served on burial detail for soldiers dying of influenza. As the flu spreads, taking with them many of those who have settled in the Two Medicine Country, Agus and Adair wonder which is worse, for him to be in Europe fighting or in the states with the flu danger. Angus has the flu and almost dies. After he regains his health, he learns that Anna died as the pandemic swept through Montana.
The story involves with Rob and Angus, now enemies, forced to work together due to a stipulation in Lucas’ will. A bitter winter about wipes them out. Only a heroic effort to haul hay from the railroad, a day’s distance away, saves their flocks. By the end of the book, Angus and Rob are the two successful herders left of those who had settled “Scotch Heaven.”
“Dancing at the Rascal Fair” is a Scottish dance tune and Agnus, who often quoting poetry, brings this song repeatedly into the story with different lyrics. I especially liked his one about the Scottish church on page 71: “Orthodox, orthodox/who believe in John Knox.’Their sighing canting grace-proud faces/their three-mile prayers and half-mile graces…”
I enjoyed this book and recommend it. Not only is Doig a wonderful storyteller who can also capture the grandeur of the land, he forces the reader to deal with issues of relationships. He reminds me of Roy and Eddie, who were in my Cedar City congregation, who were sheepherders. In a way, one can feel for the heartbreak both Angus and Adair felt in their marriage.
###
While these books, along with Ride with Me Mariah Montana complete Doig’s trilogy, he continued to write about the Two-Medicine Country. Another book by Doig, set in the fictional town of Gros Ventre in the early 1960s, is The Bartender’s Tale..
Jeff Garrison Mayberry and Bluemont Churches Isaiah 62 January 19, 2025
At the beginning of worship:
The first book I read this year was Delila Owen’s Where the Crawdads Sing. Some of you may have read it. It was a best seller a few years ago. I’m not sure why it took me this long to get around to it. After all, the book is set in the North Carolina salt marsh, something I’m familiar with from my childhood.
In the book, Kya, the Marsh Girl, is shunned by “polite society.” Everyone abandons her, but because of Tate, one of the town kids, she learns to read and draw. Over time she becomes knowledgeable about the salt marsh. She even publishes books on the marsh, which is impressive for a girl who only went to school for one day.
I got to thinking about how, in a way, this story could be a variation of Cinderella. The forsaken child becomes incredibly blessed and, in the end, marries well. I never spent much time pondering Cinderella; I always thought it to be a girl’s story. I did, however, do a google search and discovered there are variations of the Cinderella which goes back to the ancient Greeks. Adaptations of the story are found over Europe and Asia.[1] While each story has differences, they’re essentially about a forsaken girl marrying royalty. Isn’t that what fairytales are all about? Someone down and out ending up in a position of honor.[2]
And there’s a part of such fairytale stories which applies to the Christian faith. God lifts us when we’re down and out, adopts us through Christ, and lead us into an enviable position of joy.
Before the reading of Scripture:
Today we’re exploring the 62nd chapter of Isaiah. Chapters 60 to 62 are individual oracles which focus on the release from exile and the return of the Hebrew people to Zion. God removes the shame of his people and restores them to position of glory.
Mostly, this chapter involves God speaking through the prophet, but in verse 8 and 11, instead of God speaking, the prophet recalls God’s promises from the past.[3] I want us to consider this passage in its original context, then ponder what it might me to us today.
Read Isaiah 62
Do you remember the song by Paul McCarthy and Wings, titled “Silly Love Songs?” It was number one of the billboard charts for several weeks in 1976 and written by Paul for his wife at the time, Linda. The opening line went “You think that people would have had enough of silly love songs, but I look around and see it’s not so.” Then he sang repeatedly, “I love you” before going on to other verses.
In a way, it’s too bad we’re not looking at this text on a Sunday around Valentine’s Day. This passage is God’s silly love song to the Hebrew people.
But the people don’t feel loved. They’re down and out. A generation earlier, their armies were decimated by the Babylonians. Jerusalem was laid to waste. The magnificent temple, built by Solomon 400 years earlier, had been destroyed. The people find themselves exiled 800 or so miles from home.
For many ancient nations, such an experience would result in their disappearance as a nation. But not Israel, for their identity wasn’t primarily to the land, but to Almighty God, creator of heaven and earth.
God, in this love letter, expresses his affection for the Hebrew people and encourages them not to give up hope. Instead, they are to prepare to receive back all who have been in exile.
Think for a moment, have you ever done anything foolish for love? Maybe you sang an off-key love song to woo another? Tried your hand at poetry? Written a sappy letter? Or made a fool out of yourself as you yelled into a crowd, proclaiming your devotion to your beloved.[4]
In a way that’s what God does. Others may despised these people. But God risks looking foolish to proclaim his love for them.
“For Zion’s sake, I will no keep silent,” God shouts at the beginning of the passage. Another translation has it, “I can’t keep my mouth shut.”[5]
No one, watching this rag-tag group of people making their way back to Jerusalem from Babylon would have considered them valuable or important. They were just another conquered people by the Babylonians, struggling to cross the desert to make their way back to their ancestorial home. But God sees value in them.
Furthermore, God wants other nations to see their glory. God will give them a new name. Naming, in the Old Testament implied ownership. God claims these people as his own. They’ll be a crown in his hand, a delight for all to see.
Verse 5 describes God’s faithfulness as a marriage. God claims his people as his bride. God, who refers to himself as the builder (and as the Creator, God is the ultimate builder), plans to marry and rejoice over his bride.
In verse 6, we learn God posted guards upon the walls of Zion, to be on duty day and night. Oddly, these guards are not to call out an alarm about the approaching of a hostile army. Instead, God sets them up as his alarm clock. They remind God of the wedding vows he made and keep doing this until God completes his task of restoring Jerusalem.
Verses 8 and 9 brings up a frequent concern in the Old Testament. None of us like the thought of working hard and not being able to enjoy the fruits of our labor. But it happens. For Israel it may be the result of disobedience, as when foreign armies strip the fields of all the produce or command the houses of the people to serve as barracks.[6] Or, as Solomon mumbles in Ecclesiastes, because of aging.[7] We all know someone who worked hard and had a heart attack a month after retirement. But God promises this will not continue. In the restored Jerusalem, the people can enjoy the fruit of their labors. No more will their enemies take what they’ve worked hard to produce.
But while much of this promise involves God’s actions, God also calls the people to action. In verse 10, with a series of imperatives (go, prepare, build, clear, and lift), God commands the people to get ready for those returning from exile. They’re to clear and build up highways. They’re to raise flags over the gates as a sign of welcome. While God works for us, we also to do God’s work. It’s to be a team effort.
As this next group of exiles return, they’re to proclaim God’s work. In my previous two sermons from the prophets, we saw how God pays the ramson for the people’s freedom.[8] Again, that’s a theme here as God provides the recompense needed to free and compensate the people.
Our passage ends with the giving of a new name which had been promised in verse 2. This name refers to Israel’s relationship to God. A “Holy People,” can also be translated as “people who belong to the Holy One.”[9] As the “Holy People,” they’re also known as “The Redeemed of the Lord.” Again, this new name indicates Zion’s dependence upon God. Because of this transformation, the city which was desolate will now be sought out and no longer seen as forsaken.
As I said earlier, this all applied to Jerusalem coming out of exile. But how might this be applied today to our lives? While Isaiah speaks to the community of Jerusalem, can we apply the meaning of this text to our own individual lives?
I think so. This chapter encapsulates the gospel. When we are down and out, without any hope, we’re not abandoned. God still loves us and wants to lift us up and restore us into a community where people will marvel at our transformation. We see this with alcoholics and drug addicts who go through recovery. People who make bad choices in life, and while they must deal the consequences (as did Jerusalem in exile), they turn their lives around and become model citizens are another example.
We worship a powerful God who loves us. As Paul McCarthy sings later in the song I referred to earlier, “when I’m in love, it isn’t silly at all.” Our God through this silly love poem gives hope to the down and out. And that’s not silly. And as a church, we need to clear the way for such people to enter. We should raise banners. Our task is to welcome them into the fellowship. After all, we are all indebted to the triune God, our Creator, our Redeemer, and our Sustainer. Amen.
[2] Fredrick Buechner, Telling the Truth: The Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy, and Fairytale (1977). This little book describes fairytale as I use the term. The book consist of Buechner lectures at Yale’s Beecher Lectures.
[3] Walter Brueggermann, Westminster Bible Companion: Isaiah 40-66 (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1998), 219.
Neil King, Jr. American Ramble: A Walk of Memory and Renewal
Illustrations by George Hamilton (New York: Mariner Books, 2023), 354 pages including notes on writing and reading.
A friend lent me this book. When I heard what it was about, I was skeptical. King, an editor for the Wall Street Journal, walks from his home in Washington, DC, to New York City. I thought, “that’s not that long of a walk, certainly nothing like the Appalachian or Pacific Crest Trail.” Then I began to read and quickly fell in love with the story.
King, after battling cancer and Lyne disease (which resulted in paralyzed left vocal cords), and as the nation is coming out of the COVID epidemic, leaves his D.C. home. He heads out of town and toward New York City. He carries an 18-pound pack; his one luxury being a Japanese style fly rod. It was a Monday in April, the month Chaucer set off in the Canterbury Tales. But this wasn’t a quick escape. King spent months lining out a path, contacting people along the way, and learning the vast amount of history of the region.
Unlike Appalachian Trail hikers, King spends his nights in bed and breakfasts, boutique hotels, and a few traditional chain hotels. The B&Bs allows him to meet more people and, as a journalist by trade, that’s what King does best. He meets people and learns their story, while sharing parts of his own. Most people are incredibility gracious, but a few, such as the young man in an upscale neighborhood who refused to let him fill his water bottle, are not.
King’s choice for lodging also keeps him from encountering ticks which might happen if he sleeps on the ground. Having had Lyme Disease, he wants to avoid ticks which spread it, if possible.
Throughout the book, King draws on literary references. From Chaucer, the Bible, Homer, Bruce Chatwin. Edgar Allen Poe (who few suspect was also a walker), John Muir, and Henry David Thoreau.
War along the route
King’s route allows him to explore war. Battles against Native Americans (which turned William Penn’s “City of Brotherly Love” into a hotbed against the native population), to the Revolutionary and Civil Wars all occurred along his walk. He crosses the Mason Dixon Line, but even in York, Pennsylvania he finds a city who welcomed the Confederates in the days leading to up to Gettysburg. At another place, he walks the old railbed to a Y in the line at Hanover Junction. Here, Lincoln’s train took the left track for Gettysburg where he gave his address. Two years later, his train took the other Y, as his body was taken on a tour through the northeast before his burial in Springfield, Illinois.
In conversations about no trespassing signs, King reflects on how they became popular only after the end of the Civil War with millions of freed slaves trying to find their way in the world. He also finds it ironic that the middle ground in the colonies, between the north and south, were settled by pacifist (Quakers, Pietists, Dunkers, Amish, and Mennonites).
At Valley Forge and along the Delaware River, King explores the struggles of George Washington’s Continental Army during the dark days of the Revolutionary War. He even crosses the river by boat (as opposed to a bridge) to sense what Washington may have experienced. King will cross other rivers by boats as he makes his way north to Manhattan.
Learning about religion and race
Wandering through Lancaster County, King meets Amish farmers and has an opportunity to explore the role religion plays in our nation… Lancaster is the home for both James Buchanan and Thaddeus Stevens—men so similar (both lifelong bachelors) and so different as they played major roles leading up to and during the Civil War. King refers to them as America’s yin and yang. He talks with members of the African American community who has helped keep Steven’s memory alive. Steven fierce hatred of slavery came from his Vermont upbringing by Baptist parents and being born with a disability that helped him have empathy for others. Steven even decided to be buried in a small mixed-race cemetery.
While with the Amish, he reads an old book published in 1660, the Martyrs Mirror which spoke of persecution of anabaptist (Amish) in Europe and provides a glimpse for what some sought in America.
While much of King’s walk is relatively flat, his one “hill” is a garbage mountain in New Jersey. On the top, he catches his first glimpse of New York City while pondering our throw-away culture.
Recommendation
I really enjoyed this book. Particularly impressing was how King wove in so many themes (race, the land, our heritage) into his journey. I was also impressed how he didn’t shy away from unflattering pieces of our history but dealt with it all. In the end, King provides us an example of ending the division in America by humility, acknowledging that which we don’t know, while being neighborly and talking to one another.
Jeff Garrison Mayberry and Bluemont Churches Isaiah 43:1-7 January 12, 2024
Sermon recorded at Mayberry on Friday, January 10, 2025. I apologize that the audio is a little scratchy.
At the beginning of worship:
As part of the human race, it seems we’re inclined to compare ourselves to others. Such behavior is widespread. I have a sneaky feeling it has something to do with original sin.
When I compare myself to a murder, I feel pretty good. So far, I have resisted the temptation to kill even those whom I felt, at the time, deserved such a fate. If I stack myself up against murderers and other dregs of society, I come out looking good. But what about when I compare myself to Jesus? Or, as we witnessed at his funeral this week, Jimmy Carter? Yet, we should not forget, even Jimmy acknowledged his sinfulness.
We can’t understand who we are if we only compare ourselves to others. If we consider Paul’s words, “all have sinned and fallen short of God’s glory,”[1] we might realize the danger of comparing ourselves to others. In fact, it would make us no better than our peers. Who wants to be average. Furthermore, it could allow us to commit injustices without even considering what we’re doing.
I recall Jimmy Carter’s book, which came out the year before he was elected President. It’s title, Why not the Best came from a question asked of him. It’s also a question we should all ask ourselves. Being our best means we do what is right and, instead of following the crowd, keep our eyes on the perfecter of our faith, our Savior.
One book, about following the crowd, has stuck with me over the decades. It’s by Christopher Browning a historian and titled: Ordinary Men: Reserve Police Battalion 101 and the Final Solution in Poland.[2] Police Battalion 101 was a group of regular working-class guys from Hamburg, Germany. They were not political. A few had even opposed the rise of Nazism, but mostly they ignored it.
These men were mostly too old for the regular army, so they were put into a National Guard type unit and sent into territories in which the army had already conquered. This battalion of 500 men became responsible for 83,000 deaths of innocent Jews in Poland.
In the closing of the book, Browning discusses the haunting implications of his study. How can a group of men who, at first, were repulsed at the thought of murder, become willing participants in the holocaust? After all, these were not hardcore Nazis. Peer pressure is a terrible thing. That’s why we shouldn’t compare ourselves to others, but only to Christ.
One of the things several people in Carter’s funeral reminded the crowd is how Carter often did things which he knew would hurt him politically. One was to appoint Paul Volcker as the Chairman of the Federal Reserve. Volcker warned Carter of his intention to raise interest rates to curve inflation. In the short run, he said, it would hurt the economy. And there was an election coming up, Volcker reminded him.
Carter told him, “You take care of the economy, I’ll deal with the politics.” Of course, the rates rose, and it didn’t help Carter’s economy, which was one of the reasons he was so vulnerable in the 1980 election.[3] But, by doing what’s right, Carter picked a man who set the course for our nation’s economic growth in the 1980s and 1990s.
We need to do what is right. We need to strive to be our best, which means we should compare ourselves to Jesus and none other.
Before reading the scripture:
As I announced last week, I plan to preach on the Old Testament passages from the lectionary, a suggestive set of passage to preach, between last Sunday through the middle of February. At that time, I will return to Mark and finish up my work through that gospel during Lent.
I often criticize the lectionary.[4] I know some preachers who prefer it and suggest it forces them to preach on passages they’d often skip. I, on the other hand, often find myself critical of the passages used and the parts left out. That’s true in our passage today. So, before I read it, let me inform you that this lovely piece of hopeful poetry stands in sharp contrast to the passage immediately before it.
We’re looking at the first seven verses in Isaiah 43. This is a passage, in which God blesses and restores Israel, ironically comes on the heels of the last five verses of 42. There, we’re told of Israel’s disobedience. Israel has been blind and deaf to God’s pronouncements and stand in need of punishment.
To gain a full understanding of God, we need both parts[5]. In our lives there are a chasm between who we are and who God created us to be. We live in a paradox. Yet, God loves us. We can’t separate our shortcomings and God’s grace. The two must be held in tension. In this manner, we won’t be tempted to seeing God’s blessings as a stamp of approval for our behaviors. No, God loves us despite who we are. That’s the good news. Seeing both sides—our failures and God’s faithfulness, should humble us. After all, without God’s grace, we’d truly be lost.
Read Isaiah 43:1-7
The 43rd Chapter of Isaiah opens wonderfully. The God who created us, who formed us out of the earth, also redeems us. Therefore, we shouldn’t fear. God through the prophet commands, “fear not.”
As I indicated before the reading of the passage, in the previous chapter, God pointed out Israel’s sin and need for punishment. You know, it’s fearful to be called into the principal’s office, or your bosses office for a redress. God authority is far greater than the principal or boss. God created us; God knows our name, so there’s no escaping responsibility for our sins.
I have struggled all my life to remember names, but I know it’s important. It feels good when someone important calls us by name.
In 1988, as a seminary student, I attended the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church. It was held in St. Louis that year and the first order of business was the election of a moderator. That year, Ken Hall, pastor of Hill Presbyterian Church in Butler, Pennsylvania was elected.
I had spent the previous two years working for Covenant Presbyterian Church in Butler and had done some joint youth events with the Hill Church. I always worked with the associate pastor, and had only met Ken, the pastor there, once.
The Pittsburgh Theological Seminary contingent at General Assembly in 1988 I’m on the left, with hair. This would be one of the last photos taken of me without a beard as I grew a beard back the next month and haven’t shaved since.
The night after the election, there was a moderator’s reception. I went with a bunch of other seminary students from around the country. We were in the receiving line. When we got up to Ken, I put my hand out to shake his. But instead, he stepped forward, saying “Jeff, I didn’t know you were going to be here,” and hugged me. All the other seminary students were impressed. It felt good.
God knowing name is not like the principal knowing my name. Instead, it shows that God cares.
There is a lot of theology packed into the first two verses of our passage. God created us, forms us, redeems us, knows our name, call us his own and refuses to abandon us when life becomes difficult. In verse two, we’re told that when we pass through the rivers, God is with us. This may draw for us images of baptism, and that’s okay, but think about the people in Western North Carolina, who lived along the Swannanoa River during Hurricane Helene. While baptism doesn’t promise us a carefree life, few expect the terror of those who endured the floods in Western North Carolina.
God also promises to be with those walking through fire. Certainly, those poor souls in Los Angeles this past week need to feel God’s presence. In this life we’re not promised a world without peril. But God promises not to abandon us. Furthermore, God promises to redeem us, to buy us back, which as I spoke of last week, is what Jesus did.
In a way, this passage repeats itself. In verses 2 and 5, we’re told not to fear. And after each, God provides a similar promise. The first is more general and is a reminder that as Israel goes into exile, they’re not abandoned. God stays by us during times of turmoil. The second involves God bringing us back home, which the descendants of those sent into exile experienced. After all, as the passage ends, God formed and made us for his glory. Ultimately, God’s grace isn’t just about us, it’s about God’s glory.[6]
If you think about this passage, you get a sense of the triune workings of God. God creates and forms us, as individuals and into a family of believers. When we stray from God’s path, God redeems us through his Son and our Lord, Jesus Christ. And finally, when we experience trouble, God through the Holy Spirit abides with us.
These are wonderful promises in Scripture. The God who chastises us, also lovingly rescues us.[7] In chapter 42, we see the trouble we’ve gotten ourselves into. We’re not deserving of God’s grace, but that doesn’t matter to God. God redeems us, not for what we’ve done, but for his own glory. That’s grace. For God loves us still. Amen.
In your prayers today, please remember those caught in the California wildfires. If lost for words, click here for a prayer to pray.
[2] Christopher Browning, Ordinary Men: Reserve Police Battalion 101 and the Final Solution in Poland, (NY: HarpersCollins, 1992).
[3] I think this was in the eulogy by the late Walter Mondale, which was read by his son. Of course, there were other reasons for Carter’s weakness in the 1980 elections, most notably the Iran Hostage Crisis.
[4] There are several lectionaries available for use. The one most protestant churches use is the Revised Common Lectionary. To learn more, check out this link: https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu
[5] Paul D. Hanson, Isaiah 40-66, Interpretation, a Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1995), 59
[6] Claus Westermann, Isaiah 40-66, The Old Testament Library translated by David M. G. Stalker (1966, Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1969), 118-119.
I read 45 books in 2024, which is down from recent years. I’ve been reading over 50 books, but this year my 45 includes Augustine’s City of God. He broke his magus opus into 22 books, so maybe I exceeded my goal as I only counted it as one! I’m not sure my favorite book of the year, but it’s probably one of the four I have highlighted in the title slide.
The numbers do not add up as some of the books fit into multiple categories. I will add probably 3 more reviews in early 2025, some of which are already written. I generally don’t read “how-to” books, but this year read two (both related to Amateur Radio). Also, three books were re-read. Four were by foreign (non-English) authors.
Below are the books with a photo of my favorite book for the month. Also included to links to my reviews. I will update this list to include reviews posted in 2025.
Jeff Garrison Bluemont and Mayberry Churches January 5, 2025 Jeremiah 31:7-14
Sermon recorded at Bluemont Church on Friday, January 3, 2025
At the beginning of worship.
How many of you agree with this statement: “God helps those who help themselves?” Too many mistakenly attribute the statement as coming from the Bible, even though the Holy Book contains no such proverb. God helps those who help themselves may be the identifying proverb of American civil religion, but it has nothing to do with Christianity (or Judaism for that matter).
Instead, Scripture provides a picture of a God who helps those who can’t help themselves. If you are a member of this church, you have affirmed this by admitting your sinfulness and your need for a Savior. You can’t save yourself. As humans, we are frail; only with God are all things are possible.
Walter Bruggerman, a retired Old Testament professor, once proposed a twofold task for a preacher… On the one hand, the preacher’s task is to reach those who are only concern are themselves, those who think only about “me.” We live in a conceited age and many of us are caught in this trap where we think so ourselves, leaving little room for God. This results in a trap within our own limitations. In the end we are alienated from each other and from God.
On the other hand, Bruggerman identifies an opposite group of people, those who cease to think of themselves as important and exaggerate God to such a degree in which Almighty is so big and tall that we, as mere mortals, have no real contact. Faced with the goodness of such a God, we see ourselves as inept, often leaving us with a feeling of rage. God became a person in Jesus Christ especially to reach this latter group of people.
However, in front of God, both groups—those who exaggerate the self and those who exaggerate God, those who experience alienation and those who endure rage—are reduced to silence. We cannot have a conversation with each other or with God when we’re locked into our own little worlds, nor can we talk to God when we feel God is so big he does not care about us.
Yet, deep inside this silence many in our society experience is a longing and yearning for communion. We need to address such yearnings.[1] We speak to the human desire to reconnect to the Creator. After all, God is the only one with the power to redeem and sustain life.
Before reading of the scriptures:
After spending last year working through the gospel of Mark, I will spend some time in the Old Testament for the next few weeks. It’s important that we balance the two, for only then can we come to a more complete understanding of God.
Our morning reading from Jeremiah affirms a basic Christian belief, one at the heart of Presbyterian theology. The God who gives us the breath of life is also the God who, when we find ourselves alienated from him, calls us back to speech. We’ll hear this in the opening verse when the Lord, through the prophet, calls on Israel to “sing aloud, raise shouts, proclaim and give praise.”
But let’s put this reading into context. Jeremiah was a prophet of doom. His words mostly fell on deaf ears. Other prophets promised good things happening to Israel, even while the nation rotted, and the armies of Babylon laid siege to Jerusalem. They threw Jeremiah into a cistern because the people grew weary of hearing his negativism. But as the siege continued to strangle Jerusalem, and the court prophets were proved wrong, Jeremiah seems to switch. He offers a hopeful word for the future.[2]
Some probably laughed at Jeremiah. They knew the Babylonians would break through the walls at any moment. Jeremiah’s words are a hopeful dream, with a promise in the distant future. God, speaking through Jeremiah, assures Israel there will be a new day coming. Only God has the power to restore, and Israel is reminded, once again, not to lose faith, but to draw close to God.
Read Jeremiah 31:7-14
Jeremiah emphasizes salvation comes from God. God offers salvation to those unable to help themselves. Jerusalem faces death and exile soon. God, however, promises to gather and lead back to the Promised Land, the blind, the lame, the children, and women who are in labor. Each of these groups are people dependent on others, who can’t survive by themselves. They depend upon the mercy of others and when there is no one to help them, God is the one who hears and answers their pleas for help.[3]
In verse 11, we hear of the Messianic hope we have in Jesus Christ. God plans to ransom back his people. Jesus, we believe, atones for our sins.[4] In other words, Jesus pays the ransom for our release from bondage.
As we come to the end of the passage, we witness the joy experienced by the remnant of Israel who will be saved. As we’ve seen, they dance and sing and make merry; they are satisfied with the bounty provided by God.
Against the backdrop of our relative wealth, I wonder what this passage might say to us. After all, we pride ourselves on self-sufficiency. We have a difficult time understanding Jesus’ words from the beatitudes, “Blessed are the poor for theirs is the kingdom of God.”[5] It’s hard for you and me to see how someone poor can be blessed; they’re not exactly complimentary terms. Jesus also tells us how hard it is for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of heaven.[6]
Turning our lives over to God isn’t popular nor is it seen as necessary in a society priding itself on wealth. It’s harder to see the need for God in our lives and often, it’s only when someone is deathly sick or when misfortune strikes that many people see the light.
We’ve been blinded from the source of life. As Brueggerman, whom I spoke about earlier, points out, our alienation and rage keep us from seeking such a source. We either think we’re self-sufficient or that God doesn’t care, both of which bar us from the foundation of life.
Maybe we’re like Frank, in the Frank and Ernest comic strip. After a date with Francine, Frank gloated about how he was sure she was going to be true. After all, she told Frank, “You are the last man I want to see at my door.” We don’t experience the world the way it truly is… We all need to wake up and accept our dependence upon the author of life and salvation.
The longest held hostage in Lebanon. Terry Anderson asked another hostage, Catholic priest, if he could confess his sins to him. The priest was shocked and remarked, “This is interesting, you being an innocent victim, wanting to confess your sins.” Anderson replied, in a way that exposes his understanding of God and the human condition, “well, there’s quite a few of them in need of confession.”[7]
All of us, whether we realize it, need God in our lives. And we must make room for God by confessing our self-centeredness and our rebellion against God to open in our lives a place for God to exist. Only then will we hear that call of God to join in song, to dance and to be merry. Only then will that yearning inside of us, a yearning often speechless, be given voice.
Salvation is from God for those unable to help themselves. If we feel alienated and cut-off from God, like those whom Jeremiah addressed, we need to hold on to the hope God is with and for us. We need to let God know our dependence on him in all things. Those dependent on God receive an invitation to be in communion with the one who request our presence at his table which is a foretaste to what is to come. Let us celebrate the Lord’s Supper. Amen.
Note: I edited this sermon from one I preached on January 5, 2003.
[1] Walter Bruggerman, Finally Comes the Poet, (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989), 43-47.
[2] Creating a timeline for Jeremiah and Jerusalem’s fall is difficult as the prophet’s book appears mixed up. Jeremiah ends up in the cistern in chapter 38.
In the last few months of this past year, I read three books of poetry of which I’m providing brief reviews. To those who enjoy poetry or to play with words, I recommend each collection. They’re all delightful and very different.
Holly Haworth, The Way The Moon, poems
(Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 2004), 71 pages.
Drawing on the 13th moon cycles a year (every 28 days), Haworth has written 13 poems, each in four parts representing the four stages of the moon. In each section, she explores the natural world around the Blue Ridge Mountains of Southern Virginia. Haworth captures not only the cycles of life, but also how fleeting it can be. She writes with a naturalist eye, capturing and recording sightings in nature. I enjoyed her collection and reread it, but my one criticism is that at times her poetry seemed more of a list without a perceivable narrative other than the changes of the moon’s phase.
Among the wildflowers which Haworth is enchanted with are chicory and Queen Anne’s Lace, two plants in which I have written a few poems about. (To read one of my poems titled “Chicory and Lace,” click here.) I read this book in late summer/early fall, as the last of the chicory appeared and the Queen Anne’s Lace was balling up tight, as stockings stored in a drawer for another year.
Wayne Caldwell, Woodsmoke, poems
(Durham, NC, Blair, 2021), 81 pages.
Caldwell employs two voices in these poems which are all set around Mt. Pisgah in Western North Carolina. The main voice is Posey, a widower who misses his late-wife, Birdie. Posey lives alone and shuns most things modern. He still heats his home with wood, has a mule name Maud and a dog named Tomcat. According to his poems, he has learned to slow down with age. He doesn’t go to church, but his poetry is filled with Biblical allusions. While he burns most trees in his woodstove, the one exception is dogwood, because of the myth that Jesus’ cross was a dogwood. Posey shares the history of the area as well as his family and his interest in his new neighbor, Susan McFall.
There are a few poems written by Susan McFall, whose husband had run off with a younger woman. She builds a house above Posey’s, where she explores nature and looks out for Posey.
These are wonderful poems whose narrative captures the heart of Southern Appalachia.
Christian Wiman, Hammer is the Prayer: Selected Poems
(New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2016), 207 pages.
I heard Wiman speak last years at Calvin University’s Festival of Faith and Writing. While I had heard of him before and had read a few of his poems in journals, I found myself wanting to read more of his work. Unlike the other two books of poetry above, which have a unifying theme, this collection of selected poetry is more complex. The pieces are drawn from several Wiman’s works. If there is a unifying theme, it would be around illness and death, as many of the poems deal with Wiman’s battle with cancer.
While many of these poems stand alone, some build upon each other. The longest poem, “Being Serious,” contains 20 parts and an epilogue, 35 pages, that captures the life of “Serious,” from his birth to death and to God. While this collection is not at all “preachy,” God is another theme that reoccurs frequently. In addition to his own poetry, there is a section of poetry by Osip Mandelstam which Wiman translated. Mandelstam was a Polish/Russian who died during Stalin’s purges in the late 1930s.
This is a deep collection of poetry that will be worthy to be read many times.
The article below was published in The Skinnie, a magazine for Skidaway Island, Georgia, for the November 17, 2017 (vol. 15, issue 23). The title the editor gave the article was “Plains Speaking.” With Jimmy Carter’s death on Sunday, I thought it time to pull it out and make it available again. Carter, who was appreciated more after his presidency than before will be missed. I was moved to see that even Buckingham Palace in London had lowered the Union Jack to half mast in honor of his life.
“I don’t often attend Baptist Churches but when I do, it’s under the cover of darkness,” I quip as we turn into the driveway of Maranatha Baptist Church in Plains, Georgia. Everyone is quiet. It’s a little before 6 AM, on the first of October. The stars are still out. Yet, in the driveway is a man with a warm Southern accent welcoming us. He tells us where to park, that the church building will open at 8 AM, and that if we need to use the bathroom before then, there are some porta-johns in the back. He gives us an index card numbered 17. That’s our number when it is time to line up and enter church and it means there are 16 cars here before us.
Maranatha Baptist Church, Plains, GA
This is the earliest I’ve ever arrived at church, but Jimmy Carter’s Sunday School class starts at 10 AM and we don’t want to miss it. I park and we all fall asleep. An hour later, as dawn breaks, I wake to a Marine leading a dog sniffing all the cars in the parking lot. I’ve never had a vehicle sniffed for bombs while attending church. I doze off again.
By 7:30 AM, it is light enough to see. People are gathering in the front of the church. We join them. Cars still drive in. But the parking lot is full. Those who arrive now park in the overflow out back under a grove of pecans. A woman lines everyone up according to their number. At 8 AM, we’re ushered forward, one group at a time. They have us take everything out of our pockets while a secret service agent scans our bodies with a wand. Only then are we are allowed to enter the church. There’s more waiting.
As the sanctuary fills, a woman from the church welcomes us and informs us of the rules for a Sunday School class led by the former “Leader of the Free World.” We’re to refer to him as President Carter, not Mr. President (the latter is only appropriate for the current President). The woman reminds us the former First Lady’s name is Rosalynn, not Roselyn. We’re also reminded that while it is President Carter’s birthday, we’re not to sing happy birthday or make a big deal out of it. President Carter wants our focus to be on the lesson and not him. I had not known it was his birthday before arriving in Plains and didn’t think about bringing a card. Others had. The woman collects the cards. We’re told not to hand the Carters anything. However, she assures the Carters will receive the cards, but only after the Secret Service examines them. We’re told the Carters will be happy to allow us to have a photograph taken with them and are informed this will be conducted after the 11 AM worship service. If you skip worship, there will be no photographs.
A few minutes before 10 AM, a number of Secret Service agents enter the room and take up their positions. Then Rosalynn Carter enters with a group of friends and family members. I recognize Maureen Dowd, a columnist for The New York Times. They are all seated in a reserved section of pews. The room is nearly full.
A moment later Jimmy Carter enters with his ever present grin. He begins by asking where we’re from. There are people here from at least twenty states. He acknowledges each state. When someone says Washington, the former nuclear submariner informs us that it’s the home to the world’s finest submarine. He pauses a second for effect, then says, “the USS Jimmy Carter.” Another is from D.C. and Carter quickly quips, “I used to live there.” Everyone laughs.
When a woman identifies herself as Puerto Rican. Carter pauses to ask if she knows how her family and friends are doing after Hurricane Maria, which had struck the island ten days earlier. She sobs, saying her family is fine, but the island is devastated. President Carter acknowledges her pain and tells us to keep them in prayer and to help out anyway we can.
There are people in the sanctuary from at least twenty states and seven foreign countries: China, Korea, Germany, Peru, Canada, Russia and Cuba.
Next, President Carter asks a woman missionary to open us in prayer. After a few remarks about the state of the world, especially the danger posed by North Korea, Jimmy moves into his morning lesson. He first notes he’d been teaching on giving for the last four weeks. It troubled him that the collections were down. We all chuckle.
This morning, Carter begins a new series on the Apostle Paul’s letter to the Galatians and its theme of freedom.
“We are raised with the concept that you get what you earn,” Carter says, “but Christianity teaches that we are all saved, loved and forgiven in Jesus Christ. We only need to have faith.” Drawing from Jesus’ parables of the “Prodigal Son” and “Workers in the Vineyard,” he speaks of grace and notes how we’re all the same in God’s eye.
His Sunday School message avoids politics, and he never mentions the current President. But at one point, he lets his politics slip in as he emphasizes freedom in Christ, saying, “Jesus is the number one wall tear-downer.”
Carter insists that freedom doesn’t mean we can do whatever we want, but that freedom comes with responsibilities. He ends, inviting us to ask ourselves what kind of person we want to be. He suggests that if we are not satisfied with who we are, we should go to God in prayer and ask for help as we strive to be a better person.
At the end of his class, Carter says we have a real treat waiting in worship and introduces his favorite musician, pianist David Osborne. During the transition between Sunday School and worship, the former President takes a seat next to his wife in a pew that’s just across the aisle and a row up from me. Osborne sits down at the Steinway grand piano that had been brought into the sanctuary for this occasion, and plays a melody of tunes, beginning with, “Seek Ye First the Kingdom of God.” Later in the service, Osborne is joined by a Las Vegas singer, as they perform a selection of gospel hymns with “Happy Birthday” and “Georgia on My Mind” mixed in.
David Osborne signing CDs afterwards
The pastor, Brandon Patterson, is a young man just finishing up seminary. His sermon is from the book of Ruth and he mentions how Ruth observed the Jewish custom and sought the protection of Boaz, her deceased husband’s kinsman, instead of running off with a younger man. To make the point, he emphasizes Boaz’s age. Rosalynn puts her elbow into her husband side. After all, it’s his 93rd birthday. Carter laughs. The preacher notices and turns red and immediately attempts to crawl out of the hole he’s dug, saying that he didn’t mean that old. Everyone erupts into laughter.
When the service is over, a very efficient line is set up and each group is allowed to have their photo taken with Jimmy and Rosalynn. Afterwards, we leave Plains and drive back to Skidaway Island.
Billy Carter’s Gas Station
To be in place for President Carter’s Sunday School class, we had made a weekend of it. We spent our nights in Americus, Georgia as there are no major hotels in Plains. On Saturday, we explored Plains. The old school where Jimmy and Rosalynn attended high school is now a museum and visitors center. The depot, which was Carter’s campaign headquarters and served as a backdrop for many photos, is also a museum that focuses on the 1976 Presidential Campaign. It was chosen as a headquarters as it was the only available space in town with a functioning bathroom. Ironically, the bathroom is no longer open.
The park between Main Street and the railroad tracks is a butterfly garden named for Rosalynn. Across the tracks and highway is the gas station, which was owned by Carter’s brother, Billy. This station became a favorite hangout of reporters who listened to Billy tell stories while guzzling beer. Today, it’s a museum dedicated to Billy Carter. There are two peanut processing plants in town and on this first weekend of October, the smell of peanuts is in the air as tractors pulled wagons of nuts into these facilities. There are also a few shops in town, mostly selling Carter memorabilia, and the Buffalo Café, which is where we enjoyed lunch.
The homestead where Carter grew up.
After lunch, we drove a few miles west of Plains to the Carter’s homestead. This was where Jimmy grew up. Seventeen acres, which includes their home, farm buildings and barns, and a country store, are preserved by the National Park Service. Park service employees, some dressed as farm hands, described life on the farm in the 1930s.
Spring at Andersonville
After touring the homestead, we drove back through Americus, to Andersonville, the site of the Confederate Prisoner of War camp along with the National POW Museum. Today, Andersonville is mostly a large field circled by a drive. Only the bunkers in which Confederate cannons where placed remain from the Civil War era. The gateway and part of the wall around the entry into which Union POWs were marched have been rebuilt, but around the drive are a number of signs and monuments describing the horrific conditions of the prisoners. In the National POW Museum, the stories of those captured are told, with major exhibits on POWs in World War Two, Korea and Vietnam. The exhibits reminds us of the price many paid for our political freedom.
Plains is roughly 230 miles west of Skidaway Island, depending on which route one drives. Before making the trip, one should check with the Maranatha Baptist Church to make sure that President Carter is planning on being there. This December, President Carter is scheduled to teach Sunday School on the 10th, 17th and 24th.
Jeff Garrison is pastor of Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
It’s been years since I have gotten a Christmas letter in the mail in time for Christmas. At least, this year, I’ll have it on line before the end of the Christmas season on January 6!
On Christmas Day, when I took the dogs out for the final time before bed, Cyrus the Swan, appeared to have planted the “northern cross” on the western horizon. The cross-like shape of the constellation reminds me of the truth of Christmas. Looking in the other direction, Orion rises on his side in the east. A bit higher in the sky is Taurus, the bull. On his forehead sits Jupiter, like a Bindi (the Hundi dot on the forehead), To the north along the are the Gemini twins with the red Mars on the same ecliptic, but closer to the horizon. My punched tin Moravian star burns over the front porch. The rest of the lights are off, as the strong winds a few days ago destroyed about half the strands which outlined the railing.
Laurel Fork was blessed with two wonderful Aurora Borealis shows this year, and I was at the beach for both (Kure Beach in Spring showing, which was cloudy, and on Hilton Head in October, where I could barely make it out). But I did see the comet several times his October, but it was best seen through binoculars. All seems to be in order in the heaven, but on earth, we’re like the stands of lights…
My father with a catch of flounder in the 1970s
I’m glad that 2024 will soon be behind us. That doesn’t mean exactly looking forward to what 2025 might. From the chaos of our world and country to personal griefs, this past year has been crazy. The biggest shock was the death of my father in May. I was in DeTour Michigan when he went in for surgery for a blockage in his intestines. Things looked good. They spoke of releasing him from the hospital. I planned to head to Wilmington to see him a few weeks after I got back, but then things went south.
I rushed to Wilmington as he was undergoing another surgery and arrived as the surgeon stopped in to talk with my siblings and me. Again, for a day, things looked good, but the bleeding started again. The medical staff felt he couldn’t endure another surgery. Dad understood what was happening and was ready to die. They moved him to hospice care, where he spent his final days. For a couple of days, he was alert and saw lots of friends. All his children and most of his grandchildren and great grandchildren were there. Donna and Caroline came down and we rented a house on Kure Beach. While it was a nice place, it wasn’t the beach vacation I desired.
Grief has come over me many times this year with not being able to pick up the phone and call Dad to share something with him. At the same time, I realize I am blessed to still have a father at 67 years of age. With him gone, I’m now the oldest. In addition, I lost several friends, parishioners, and former parishioners this year.
Yet, a lot of good stuff that happened in 2024. In January, I met up with Bill Cheek, and old roommate from my Hickory days, to paddle in the Okefenokee Swamp. After that paddling, I began to study and for the first time since high school, became a licensed amateur radio operator. My call is KQ4PVG, but I’m thinking of applying for a noviety call sign and getting back my old call. I have been mostly active on 40 and 2 meters and beginning to regain an ear for morse code (which is no longer required for licenses).
In April, on my way to the Festival of Faith and Writing, I aimed toward the path of the eclipse and caught my second total solar eclipse in Springfield, Ohio. The eclipse was amazing for a couple of minutes. I feel blessed to have experienced two eclipses in totality (2017 and 2024). I’d never heard of Springfield, Ohio, but found it a pleasant town. Sadly, before the year was out, the town became well-known for rumors spread by a certain vice presidential candidate that illegal immigrants there enjoyed snacking on their neighbors’ pets. It turned out to be a lie, but truth doesn’t seem to matter anymore.
After the Festival of Faith and Writing, I met up with Bob, a good friend from my Hastings days. We spent 8 days in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan reading and hiking. I always enjoyed hiking with Bob because of his knowledge of botany. We had a great time reading, writing, hiking, and watching freighters on the lake.
In May, we were able to move into our addition to our home. We enjoyed the additional space, all the windows and the cork floors. Our new back deck with views of the Buffalo was well used in summer and early fall. I thought we were about done with construction, but in November, we broke ground on a new 3 car garage to the southwest of our house. It should be done in January but as this is construction, it’ll probably be more like March or June.
My garden wasn’t much to write home about this year. Because of my father’s passing, I got everything in late, just in time for a six-week drought. When the rains finally came, it was too late. Besides, something ate my cucumber plants so I had nothing to pickle. The tomatoes did so-so. I had enough to eat a daily tomato sandwich for six weeks, but only ended up making 7 quarts of soup and 6 pints of salsa (a fraction of what I did in 2023). But because of not working in the garden, I spent many mornings walking on backroads with Brad and even got in a canoe trip on the New River with Mike.
In September, my brother Warren and I headed to West Virginia, where we spent a few days riding the Greenbrier Trail. We had a good time. I thought about borrowing my wife’s new e-bike, but my brother would have made fun of me doing that the rest of my life and would probably tell the story of it at my grave.
In September, a planned trip to Pittsburgh was cancelled as we braced for a brush of Helene. We were without power for 36 hours and lost a lot of limbs, but with a whole-house generator, it wasn’t exactly suffering like those in the North Carolina Mountains. In October, I attended the Theology Matter’s Conference on Hilton Head and then headed to Wilmington to preach at the 80th anniversary service at Cape Fear Presbyterian Church.
In early December, I headed down to Harker’s Island to fish with two of my siblings, Warren and Sharon, along with Uncle Larry and his brother-in-law. We picked a frigid week, with some gale-forced winds, and only caught enough fish to one evening fish fry.
Donna continues to work the communication director for the Presbytery of the Peaks. Caroline still works for a cork company (and got us a great deal on cork flooring for the addition). Mia, our oldest dog, is slowing down but still in good health. Apple, Caroline’s Havanese, is as mischievous as any three-year-old. I continue to feel blessed to serve the two historic rock churches along the Blue Ridge Parkway. Preaching continues to be enlightening. This year I enjoyed working my way through Mark’s gospel. I have warned the churches of my intention to retire by the time I’m 70, but that still gives me a couple more years.
I continue to do a lot of walking and reading (look for my reading summary next week). Another treat is waking up in time to watch the morning light sweep across the Buffalo.
Panoranic view of the Buffalo from my study upstairs.
Jeff Garrison Mayberry Church Christmas Eve 2024 Luke 2:1-20
This is my favorite service of the year. The candles, the carols, at night, it all comes together as we celebrate Christmas.
The birth of a child opens new possibilities, and the child whose birth we celebrate this evening offers us a glimpse into the workings of God. Through Jesus, we experience grace, forgiveness, love, and hope. We live in a troubled world. It was that way when Jesus was born, too. But Jesus’ coming provides us with meaning and hope for today and eternity. May your celebration tomorrow be filled with joy.
During Avent, I often read a book about Christmas. This year it was A Ukrainian Christmas. Ukraine is a country where the east and the west collide. We see this collusion in the current war, but the Christmas season is another example. It’s resulted in Ukraine kind of having two Christmases, the Western’ world’s celebration on December 25 and the Eastern world’s celebration on January 6.
One of the influencers on Christmas in Ukraine came from German settlers who brought Christmas tree with them. In this way, Ukraine is like us, for Christmas trees in our county also came from German settlers in the first half of the 19th Century.
But many churches in Ukraine added their own twist. They leave the lights off the tree in church and have the church’s members bring lights to hang on the tree. They do this because they believe the light belong with the members, not within the church. We’re supposed to take the lights with us when we go out in the world, not hid them under a basket. Or to paraphrase Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount, “lock them up in a church”. Think about this evening when you drive home together and see all the lights on homes. We are to be the light in the world.
This evening, I am reflecting on Luke’s account of the Christmas story which we’ve heard. I want to highlight three items this evening:
the role of Caesar, the message of the angels, and the significance of the shepherds.
Luke begins by informing us who’s in charge of the empire, Caesar Augustus. His birth name was Octavian, and he was the son of Julius Caesar’s nephew. On the Ides of March, 44 BC, Julius Ceasar was assassinated. 19-year-old Octavian set off with Mark Antony to defeat those who killed Julius Caesar. Two years later, they defeated the opposition forces and killed Brutus and Cassius. Octavian then ruled much of the empire. A decade later, after Antony joined with Cleopatra, he defeated their armies and gained control of the entire empire. Much of this is remembered through the plays of William Shakespeare.
In 27 BC, the Roman Senate gave Octavian the venerated name of “Augustus,” which means “reverenced.” As his rule continued, a cult arose about the belief he was divine. There was even a myth, like that of Alexander the Great two centuries earlier, that his father was a god.
By the time Jesus was born, some were proclaiming Augustus birth as the beginning of the “good news.” The same word, “good news, from which we get evangelism, was applied to Augustus as to Augustus may have been the most powerful person in the Western World up until this point. He controlled the empire. Rome entered a long period without wars with the empire’s external enemies subdued. Unlike Julius Caesar, who was a warrior, Augustus was seen as a man of peace. Of course, it was a brutal peace, enforced by Roman legions and terrible executions of those who dared challenge Rome’s authority. But that’s a story for Good Friday.
What’s important to understand is the world in which Jesus came already had someone whom people considered the bearer of good news, the prince of peace.
This brings me to the second move I’d like us to consider. The angels use that same language which referred to Augustus to refer to the child born in Bethlehem. The singing angels proclaim to the shepherds “good news for all people. A child who will bring peace to those he favors.
In a subtle fashion, Luke introduces conflict into his story. Who will win? The empire? Or the poor child born in obscurity in a far unknown region of the empire? One who some think is divine, or the one who is divine? Time will tell.
Then comes the third move, the shepherds check out the baby… We have tended to romanticize shepherds… with shampooed sheep munching on grassy hillsides. But reality isn’t nearly as pristine. It was a dirty business. When it rains, they get muddy. You deal with poop. You live outside with the animals, moving them from one grassy pasture to another. Showers are only available during the rainy season. The life of a shepherd was anything but romantic. Shepherds were dirty and looked down upon by the rest of society. Society placed them right up there with gamblers and tax collectors. Some Jews maintained they didn’t know the difference between mine and thine. People considered them thieves and some probably were. They were so looked down upon they weren’t allowed to serve as a witness in court.
The contrast between the shepherds and Caesar couldn’t have been more distinct. And who received the message that first Christmas morning? Not those in the royal courts. What does this tell us about the gospel?
One more thing… You know, the temple in Jerusalem required a lot of animals for sacrifices. There was a zone around Jerusalem, which included Bethlehem, in which the animals raised were selected over for the temple’s altar. So, these shepherds were most likely raising animals bound for the temple. With their dirty job, they help people obtain atonement for their sins, but now they rejoice for the one who will truly atone for our sins.
And finally, what did the shepherds do when they encountered Christ. All our nativity scenes show them bowing in reverence, and that may have been the case for they wouldn’t want to wake the sleepy baby. But when they got out of sight, on their way back to their flocks, they joined the angels in praising God.
So let me go back to the story I began with, about the churches in Ukraine not putting lights on the trees. It’s because they know we all should be one flicker of God’s light in the world. We’re to praise God for what God has done for us and to let our lights shine to show God’s work. The shepherds did that, and so should we.
So, when, in just a minute, we light the candles and cut down the lights, look around at the lights within this building and remember we’re to take those lights out into the world, where they belong. Amen.
Resources:
Edwards, James R., The Gospel According to Luke, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015.
Gerbish, Nadiyka and Hrytsak, Yaroslav; A Ukrainian Christmas, Nadiyka Gerbish and Yaroslave Hrytask, translators, Sphere, 2022.
