January 2, 2005

Second Sunday of Christmas

John 1:1-18

Last Word

     Let’s start with the bad news first.  Last Saturday evening our time, early Sunday morning their time, people living on the shores of the rim of the Indian Ocean suffered the crushing force of a great tidal wave, a tsunami.  Many of them were still in bed when an earthquake shifted the ocean floor, causing waves of water to blast toward the shore at speeds of up to 500 miles an hour, as much as 60 feet high.  The devastation was horrendous and reached from Southeast Asia to India to Africa.  Some small islands and their inhabitants were wiped completely off the map.  The last official death toll I heard was 127,000, more than the population of Hartford.  The toll is expected to continue to rise and by some estimates, may top 400,000.   This is the worst natural disaster in human history.  It came while half the world was still celebrating Christmas Day.

     I struggled this week, searching for the right words to say to you this morning, but I don’t think anything I can say will be quite adequate.  We must grieve now, along with the countless millions of people who have been directly affected by this disaster.  I think we must also give, and give a lot because the need is so very great. 

     I was listening to the radio yesterday as an Indian doctor talked about getting a team of medical workers together to go to Sri Lanka.  In between methodically going over the details, he let a personal, agonized lament slip through.  He said, “We don’t know why God is doing this.”

     We can understand his feelings because at one time or another we’ve all had them.  And maybe we’re having those feelings right now.

     I know I have questions, even though my personal lament is a bit different than the doctor’s.  I don’t believe God has done this.  I do believe God let it happen, just as God allows undeserved wonderful things happen to people, God allows undeserved terrible things happen to people, too.  God has given us the freedom to experience the fullness of life and death.  I appreciate the freedom, but there are times like these when I’d gladly give it up if God would just step in and make everything all right again. 

     Considering the events of this past week, I wasn’t quite sure what to do with the Gospel text from John we were given for this morning.  What does all this talk about The Word being with God in the beginning and becoming flesh in Jesus have to do with any of this anyway?  I would have much preferred the story about Jesus calming the seas and be able to get up here this morning to tell you about the great miracle that happened last Sunday when the tsunami was stopped in its tracks and over 100,000 lives were saved!

     But that’s not what happened, of course.  Instead, I felt my heart being moved to remember we would be sharing Holy Communion this morning, and slowly, I began to see things differently.  Jesus didn’t still all the storms and calm all the seas.  He didn’t heal every sickness.  There have continued to be countless wars even though the Prince of Peace came to be with us.  Jesus himself suffered a horrible death.  “God with us”, Emmanuel, meant God in Christ Jesus experienced life as we do, good and bad.

     Communion tells us two things.  First, life can be very, very hard.  It can cause suffering, pain, loss, grief and death.  It cost the Savior his own body and blood and this humble meal helps us remember this.  But secondly, Communion tells us that God not only allows the storms to rage, but offers us a way through them, direction and love for this life, and if tragedy overtakes us, direction and love for the life to come.  In the end, Communion is more about Easter than it is the cross, resurrection from the dead, light bursting forth from a dark tomb.

     When John spoke of The Word that was with God at the beginning and in Jesus Christ and goes with us into the future, he was saying something to the effect that the first Word that was spoken will be the last Word, too.   The Alpha and the Omega.  That Word is God’s Word.  And God’s Word is about life that is light to all people, a light the darkness will not overcome.

     It’s an act of faith to look for that light in dark places and maybe that’s best we can do.  Maybe we can do what we can to share light with those who are having a hard time seeing it right now.

     In the meantime, we keep listening for the God who is still speaking, listening for that timeless Word.

     (Romans 8:31-39, selected verses)

What then are we to say about these things?  Who will separate us from the love of Christ?  Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?  No.  In all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.  For I am certain that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.