So I’ve been trying to figure out why I couldn’t find the words to talk about Joy. It should be pretty easy. I mean, there are enough stories that should provoke joy in Jesus’ ministry.
Jesus healing the lepers (Luke 17:11-19) and the blind man, Bartimaeus (Mark 10:46-52) ; they were happy.
Jesus turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana; his mother was happy, the guests were happy, the bridegroom was happy, and everyone had a good time.
(John 2:1-11)
The woman touching the hem of Jesus’ robe and even though he turns on her demanding to know who touched him, she is healed and I’m thinking pretty joyous at the event of getting her life back. (Luke 8:40-48)
The Samaritan woman at the well, she was happy after hearing the words of Jesus that her past was now just that, her past and her future was before her. The living water he offered was accepted, and she was so overjoyed that she quickly went to share her news with the village who the invited Jesus and the disciples to stay. (John 4)
Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead (John 11:38-44)
changing sorrow and grief to joy for Mary and Martha and well; giving Lazarus a whole new life.
And imagine the joy with which Zacchaeus ran home calling for his household to get ready for Jesus was coming to eat with them. (Luke 19:1-10)
In Advent, we tend to focus on Elizabeth and Mary, and the quiet or unquiet joy with which they awaited the birth of their babes. It is the same joy we try to foster as we journey through Advent waiting for Christmas.
Their joy may have said “ The birth of this baby will change my life” and we long for a joy that indeed says: “The birth of this baby will change my heart”. Like the Jews at the time of Jesus’ birth we await a Messiah that will make a difference.
Jesus healing the lepers (Luke 17:11-19) and the blind man, Bartimaeus (Mark 10:46-52) ; they were happy.
Jesus turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana; his mother was happy, the guests were happy, the bridegroom was happy, and everyone had a good time.
(John 2:1-11)
The woman touching the hem of Jesus’ robe and even though he turns on her demanding to know who touched him, she is healed and I’m thinking pretty joyous at the event of getting her life back. (Luke 8:40-48)
The Samaritan woman at the well, she was happy after hearing the words of Jesus that her past was now just that, her past and her future was before her. The living water he offered was accepted, and she was so overjoyed that she quickly went to share her news with the village who the invited Jesus and the disciples to stay. (John 4)
Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead (John 11:38-44)
changing sorrow and grief to joy for Mary and Martha and well; giving Lazarus a whole new life.
And imagine the joy with which Zacchaeus ran home calling for his household to get ready for Jesus was coming to eat with them. (Luke 19:1-10)
In Advent, we tend to focus on Elizabeth and Mary, and the quiet or unquiet joy with which they awaited the birth of their babes. It is the same joy we try to foster as we journey through Advent waiting for Christmas.
Their joy may have said “ The birth of this baby will change my life” and we long for a joy that indeed says: “The birth of this baby will change my heart”. Like the Jews at the time of Jesus’ birth we await a Messiah that will make a difference.
So I have a story, told every year by the Jewish peoples around the world in December It’s the Miracle of Hanukkah story which is really a story of two miracles; Hanukkah is also known as the Festival of Lights or the Feast of Dedication.
Israel was a nation that was constantly being bandied about by other nations. Alexander the Great in about 329 BCE came carrying a giant Hellenistic flag. Well, Alexander wasn’t such a problem he came, he conquered, he left to conquer other places, and he died in 323 BCE. Relations between Jews and Greeks were pretty good and they influenced each other even under the kings who followed Alexander.
For the Jewish minority, however, what began as minor aspects of assimilation — such as giving children Greek names and speaking the Greek language became much more challenging by 190 BCE, as greater numbers of the Jewish population became what we call Hellenist Jews, those who embraced Greek culture at the expense of their Jewishness; including those who reversed their circumcision, ate pork, and bowed to idols
Then, about 168 BCE, Antiochus, a Greek Hellenistic king, outlawed Jewish practice and forced Jews to adopt pagan rituals and assimilate into Greek culture. A group of Jews known as the Hasmoneans or the Maccabees stood up to the Greeks, leading a revolt of basically ragtag Jews against this persecution.
Mostly because human nature being what it is and the Jewish people being very stubborn, the Jews who didn’t think it necessary to observe the Torah became very interested in its preservation when their freedom to be Jews was challenged. Unfortunately they faced a Syrian-Greek army of almost 50,000 men, who marched into Judea.
It took a few years, but the Maccabees hit-and-run tactics enabled them to capture Judea, Jerusalem and the temple from Antiochus’ control. They shattered the statue of Zeus and cleaned up the Temple, restoring sacrificial sacrifice. Any priests who had worked for the Greeks were sent away or executed.
But the returning priests to the Temple only found one small flask of uncontaminated oil with the seal of the High Priest. By Torah law, the flame of the Menorah (Candelabrum) in the Temple could only be lit with specially prepared pure olive oil. The amount of oil remaining in the one flask was only enough to burn for one day; and it would take eight days to produce a new batch of pure oil.
They lit it — and the menorah miraculously burned for eight days. A year later the Rabbis established the Feast of Dedication which lasts for eight days, every night an additional candle is lit. A menorah actually has nine candle – one for each of the eight days and a ninth candle from which the other candles are lit.
The rabbis, in their wisdom, gave more weight to the miracles of the lights than they do to the miracle of war. The Temple would be threatened and destroyed, and other revolts would be mounted and stopped but the idea that one small flask of oil could burn and shed light for eight days until more oil could be refined – that is a miracle. Hanukah has become a time when families are reunited around the spirit of the Jewish people and their right to observe the Torah.
Joy. Light in the darkness. Not our story you might say, but in John 10:22-24, Jesus is in the temple in Jerusalem attending the Feast of Dedication, with people questioning him if he is the Messiah they have been waiting for.
Israel was a nation that was constantly being bandied about by other nations. Alexander the Great in about 329 BCE came carrying a giant Hellenistic flag. Well, Alexander wasn’t such a problem he came, he conquered, he left to conquer other places, and he died in 323 BCE. Relations between Jews and Greeks were pretty good and they influenced each other even under the kings who followed Alexander.
For the Jewish minority, however, what began as minor aspects of assimilation — such as giving children Greek names and speaking the Greek language became much more challenging by 190 BCE, as greater numbers of the Jewish population became what we call Hellenist Jews, those who embraced Greek culture at the expense of their Jewishness; including those who reversed their circumcision, ate pork, and bowed to idols
Then, about 168 BCE, Antiochus, a Greek Hellenistic king, outlawed Jewish practice and forced Jews to adopt pagan rituals and assimilate into Greek culture. A group of Jews known as the Hasmoneans or the Maccabees stood up to the Greeks, leading a revolt of basically ragtag Jews against this persecution.
Mostly because human nature being what it is and the Jewish people being very stubborn, the Jews who didn’t think it necessary to observe the Torah became very interested in its preservation when their freedom to be Jews was challenged. Unfortunately they faced a Syrian-Greek army of almost 50,000 men, who marched into Judea.
It took a few years, but the Maccabees hit-and-run tactics enabled them to capture Judea, Jerusalem and the temple from Antiochus’ control. They shattered the statue of Zeus and cleaned up the Temple, restoring sacrificial sacrifice. Any priests who had worked for the Greeks were sent away or executed.
But the returning priests to the Temple only found one small flask of uncontaminated oil with the seal of the High Priest. By Torah law, the flame of the Menorah (Candelabrum) in the Temple could only be lit with specially prepared pure olive oil. The amount of oil remaining in the one flask was only enough to burn for one day; and it would take eight days to produce a new batch of pure oil.
They lit it — and the menorah miraculously burned for eight days. A year later the Rabbis established the Feast of Dedication which lasts for eight days, every night an additional candle is lit. A menorah actually has nine candle – one for each of the eight days and a ninth candle from which the other candles are lit.
The rabbis, in their wisdom, gave more weight to the miracles of the lights than they do to the miracle of war. The Temple would be threatened and destroyed, and other revolts would be mounted and stopped but the idea that one small flask of oil could burn and shed light for eight days until more oil could be refined – that is a miracle. Hanukah has become a time when families are reunited around the spirit of the Jewish people and their right to observe the Torah.
Joy. Light in the darkness. Not our story you might say, but in John 10:22-24, Jesus is in the temple in Jerusalem attending the Feast of Dedication, with people questioning him if he is the Messiah they have been waiting for.
The Gospel of John begins with strong words of faith.
1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.
2 He was with God in the beginning.
3 Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.
4 In him was life, and that life was the light of all humankind.
5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. (John 1:1-5)
John Bell of the Iona Community wrote the following Prayer entitled When the World was Dark:
When the world was dark
And the city was quiet
You came.
You crept in beside us
And no one knew
Only the few
Who dared to believe
That God might do something different.
Will you do the same this Christmas, Lord?
Will you come into the darkness of tonight’s world;
Not the friendly darkness
As when sleep rescues us from tiredness,
But the fearful darkness,
In which people have stopped believing
That war will end
Or that food will come
Or that a government will change
Or that the church cares?
Will you come onto that darkness
And do something different
To save your people from death and despair?
Will you come into the quietness of this town,
Not the friendly quietness
As when lovers hold hands;
But the quietness when the phone has not rung
The letter has not come
The friendly voice no longer speaks
The doctor’s face says it all!
Will you come into that darkness
And do something different
Not to distract, but to embrace your people?
We ask this not because we are guilt-ridden or want to be,
But because the fullness our lives longs for
Depends upon us being as open and vulnerable to you
As you were to us when you came
Wearing no more than diapers
And trusting human hands
To hold their maker.
Will you come into our lives
If we open them to you
And do something different?
When the world was dark
And the city was quiet
You came.
You crept in beside us.
Do the same this Christmas, Lord.
Do the same this Christmas.
Amen
We have such words of hope and yet Advent is a time for waiting, waiting in the darkness of winter, of sorrow, of grief, of oppression or maybe just waiting for the light to come. Our faith is that the light will come. Our hope is that the light will come. But what will that light show us?
There is a story that the rabbis tell: maybe it is a story that Jesus would have told but it didn’t get written down in our gospels.
Once upon a time, a rabbi asked his students how they could tell when night had ended and day was beginning.
“Could it be,” asked one of his brightest students, “When you can see an animal in the distance and you are able to tell it is a sheep or a dog?”
“No,” answered the rabbi.
“Could it be,” another student asked, “when you can look at a tree and tell whether it is a fig tree or a peach tree?”
“No,” said the rabbi.
“Well, then, when is it that we can tell when the long night of darkness has ended?” the students demanded.
The rabbi smiled and answered, “You will know that the long night of darkness has ended when you can look into the face of any woman or man and see that they are your sister or your brother. Because if you cannot do this, no matter what time it is, it is still night.”
We wait in darkness, yet all around us there are lights of hope and lights of faith.
This Christmas a baby will be born.
The baby will be called Immanuel – “God with us”.
A miracle some will say.
May it be so Amen
1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.
2 He was with God in the beginning.
3 Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.
4 In him was life, and that life was the light of all humankind.
5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. (John 1:1-5)
John Bell of the Iona Community wrote the following Prayer entitled When the World was Dark:
When the world was dark
And the city was quiet
You came.
You crept in beside us
And no one knew
Only the few
Who dared to believe
That God might do something different.
Will you do the same this Christmas, Lord?
Will you come into the darkness of tonight’s world;
Not the friendly darkness
As when sleep rescues us from tiredness,
But the fearful darkness,
In which people have stopped believing
That war will end
Or that food will come
Or that a government will change
Or that the church cares?
Will you come onto that darkness
And do something different
To save your people from death and despair?
Will you come into the quietness of this town,
Not the friendly quietness
As when lovers hold hands;
But the quietness when the phone has not rung
The letter has not come
The friendly voice no longer speaks
The doctor’s face says it all!
Will you come into that darkness
And do something different
Not to distract, but to embrace your people?
We ask this not because we are guilt-ridden or want to be,
But because the fullness our lives longs for
Depends upon us being as open and vulnerable to you
As you were to us when you came
Wearing no more than diapers
And trusting human hands
To hold their maker.
Will you come into our lives
If we open them to you
And do something different?
When the world was dark
And the city was quiet
You came.
You crept in beside us.
Do the same this Christmas, Lord.
Do the same this Christmas.
Amen
We have such words of hope and yet Advent is a time for waiting, waiting in the darkness of winter, of sorrow, of grief, of oppression or maybe just waiting for the light to come. Our faith is that the light will come. Our hope is that the light will come. But what will that light show us?
There is a story that the rabbis tell: maybe it is a story that Jesus would have told but it didn’t get written down in our gospels.
Once upon a time, a rabbi asked his students how they could tell when night had ended and day was beginning.
“Could it be,” asked one of his brightest students, “When you can see an animal in the distance and you are able to tell it is a sheep or a dog?”
“No,” answered the rabbi.
“Could it be,” another student asked, “when you can look at a tree and tell whether it is a fig tree or a peach tree?”
“No,” said the rabbi.
“Well, then, when is it that we can tell when the long night of darkness has ended?” the students demanded.
The rabbi smiled and answered, “You will know that the long night of darkness has ended when you can look into the face of any woman or man and see that they are your sister or your brother. Because if you cannot do this, no matter what time it is, it is still night.”
We wait in darkness, yet all around us there are lights of hope and lights of faith.
This Christmas a baby will be born.
The baby will be called Immanuel – “God with us”.
A miracle some will say.
May it be so Amen
