word – Leah Wise

Through the written word,
and the spoken word,
May we know your living Word,
Jesus Christ our Savior.
Amen.

The prayer I just prayed was written specifically to introduce the sermon. It comes to us from the Church of England. I found it once through a Google search, but when I tried to find it again, it seemed to have disappeared. When I arrived at Good Shepherd, I was surprised to discover that Rev. Paige uses the same prayer. She can’t remember where she found it either.

In any case, I was attracted to this prayer because of the way it makes a theological connection through the concept of “word.” “Through the written word” refers to the Scriptures; “and the spoken word” refers to the sermon; “may we know your living Word” refers to the “word made flesh,” which is to say, Jesus.

That phrase, “word made flesh,” comes to us from the Gospel of John. You might be familiar with the ancient Christian hymn that introduces the Gospel of John. Here’s a translation of it by scholar Francis Moloney:

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was turned toward God; and what God was, the Word also was. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him nothing was made. What took place in him was life, and the life was the light of humankind…and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, the fullness of a gift that is Truth.”

John provides some of the densest theology about the nature of Christ in the entire Bible, and this passage is no exception. John uses the word, “Word,” to characterize Christ through the ages. You might call it word-play.

I want to explore this a bit because it’s related to today’s readings…

So, what’s the deal with all this Word talk? The idea is that, in the beginning of time, God created the whole world with words: God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light.

It wasn’t physical force or the wave of a magic wand, it was Word that created and originated all that is, and it was Word that named creation as good to God.

John argues that this Divine Word was not like human speech. Moloney says that the tense used in Greek suggests that this Word exists “outside the limits of time and place.” It is not bound in any way by the limits of human communication, and it doesn’t manipulate or lie.

This Divine Word is completely liberated. It can never be miscommunicated or misunderstood. This Word is eternal, and will always be the absolute Truth.

And this is where the wordplay comes in. The Greek word for “Word” is “logos.” The ancient philosophers used logos to refer to the kind of words that conveyed a fundamental truth.

When John says that “the Word is the fullness of the gift that is Truth,” he is overtly drawing the connection to the deeper meaning of logos. And then, he is telling us that this Word – this fundamental Truth – is not only found in Jesus, but is Jesus.

“In the beginning was the truth, and the truth was turned toward God, and what God was, the Truth also was.”

Jesus is the Word God breathed over the water at the beginning of time. He became the “word made flesh.” Truth was crucified on the cross, Truth was resurrected, and now Truth lives in and among us, through the Spirit.

In Christ, we are children of the Word that is True. This means that the world’s transformation is dependent on our tireless proclamation of the truth…

Today, in our reading from Second Timothy, we encounter a teaching that is best understood within the theological concept of Jesus as the Word that is Truth.

The scripture cautions:

“Remind them of this, and warn them before God that they are to avoid wrangling over words, which does no good but only ruins those who are listening.

Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved by him, a worker who has no need to be ashamed, rightly explaining the word of truth.”

In this passage, there are two instances of the Greek word, “logos”: there’s “wrangling over words” and “word of truth.” These are being set up as opposing kinds of communication: one of them is good and the other one is, as scholar Benjamin Fiore puts it, “good for nothing.”

In Timothy’s day, the church was trying to establish itself. And part of that was understanding what they believed: about God and about how they were supposed to act.

Arguments were widespread. And theological disagreements could become very ugly, even to the point of physical violence.

It is clear in this passage, and in other New Testament letters, that arguments over theology and practice were threatening to rip the early church apart.

They were arguing over: the exact amount of divinity and humanity that Jesus had, whether or not they could eat meat, whether you had to convert to Judaism first before becoming a Christian, about ritual cleanliness and sacrifice, if women could be church leaders, if they should keep their belongings or sell them all, if they should welcome people from other religions, whether they should get married, when Jesus was coming back…and the arguments went on and on.

People used a lot of words, but these words were not the liberated Word of Truth made manifest in Jesus. They were, too often, manipulative, confusing, and distanced from their original purpose. But the worst part about them was that they made it hard for anyone to find common ground, or act on the good news.

Whether they were “accurate” or not was almost beside the point. Because their communication had ceased to be a tool that pointed them to the Truth.

Just like those first Christians, we live in a time of “good for nothing” words. We turn on the news and the pundits are lying. We read social media comments and people are fighting. We are compelled to say the exact right thing or risk being “cancelled.” And all around us, relationships are ending over political disagreements. Because we are sharing and digesting words that don’t point back to the only thing that matters, which is the Truth.

Our scriptures compel us, in the name of Christ, to tell the endless chatter around us to “shut up already.” We’re wasting our time! We can’t keep turning the world’s empty and distracting words into false idols.

The Word that created the world and then saved the world is calling us to be co-creators of his good creation: to renounce evil, to trust God, to love, to serve, and to respect the dignity of every human being.

That’s the Truth, and that’s the only Word that matters.

You and I, and your family member and your neighbor, might have a difference of opinion. We might be very different people, shaped by different experiences. We might see the world through a drastically different lens, or argue for different kinds of solutions.

And that’s ok. As long as we understand that those little words of disagreement don’t have to be worked out before we live into the unifying Word that is Jesus himself.

When it comes to the world’s arguments, we don’t have to choose the lesser evil. We only have choose Jesus. Because we can be united under the banner of Jesus, no matter what other people say. We can live out his call to never give up on love, and to never give up on one another. Because we know the Truth, and we have already been saved by it.

“The word of God is not chained.” It is always creating, always transforming, always telling the truth. As proclaimers of the living Word, that is what we are called to do. Amen.

—

References:

Moloney, Francis J., Sacra Pagina: The Gospel of John.
Fiore, Benjamin, Sacra Pagina: The Pastoral Epistles.

Readings here

Today is the first Sunday in Advent. The word Advent means arrival. But we’ll get back to that later. Today also marks the beginning of a new year for the church. So, Happy New Year!

When we think about typical new year’s festivities, we probably imagine raucous celebration. The ball drops, couples kiss, and fireworks go off around the world. People crowd into streets, bars, and houses in sparkly clothing. And strangers drink and even sing together like old friends.

The next day, people make and eat special New Years’ food, thought to bring good luck: black-eyed peas, tamales, goose, and even pickled herring make the list. In my family, we eat corned beef and cabbage.

All of these traditions seem to be a way to conjure optimism out of thin air. They encourage us to perform reckless and unjustified hope. The drinks and debauchery help us literally forget the old year, with its old sorrows and annoyances. And in the hazy glow of midnight, we can look forward to a limitless future.

We tell ourselves: this year is gonna be different. We’ll finally become who we always wanted to be. We’ll finally get the job, mend the relationship, make the move, start the workout, and get the good news.

We have no reason at all to believe any of these things are influenced by the fact that it is a new year. But, we decide to believe things will change…at least until the end of January.

—

In Christian tradition, our Advent new year is also a season of hope. But our hope looks a little different. And, unlike new year’s resolutions, it’s a pretty bad conversation starter at holiday parties. Because, Christian hope is apocalyptic. Which is to say, it has a lot to do with the end of the world.

By now, we are well-acquainted with the apocalyptic literature of the Bible. Our scripture readings have been tracking with the apocalypse for a couple of weeks now. In Daniel, Jeremiah, Revelation, the Gospels, and even the Psalms, we have heard prophecies proclaimed about the end times. Today, we hear news of a mysterious “Son of Man” who is coming to judge the world.

These apocalyptic predictions are kind of like New Year’s Resolutions – in that they help us imagine the future. But there’s one big difference: these scriptural resolutions are not about hoping for things you can put on your resume or brag about on Facebook.

And they are not about forcing unjustified optimism that only lasts a month. At their core, they seek to legitimize and justify hope, and to make it more than a game of personal willpower.

On its surface, apocalypse can seem grim. But it’s not supposed to be traumatic. It is meant to be just alarming enough to wake us up and turn us around, so we can see the big picture.

It draws us into the mystery of our faith. And this mystery dwells in paradox. Appearing to be about the future, predictions of the final judgment are actually the story of everything, reaching back to the farthest past.

They compel us to look forward to the final days, but when we do that, we end up being drawn back to the very beginning, when the breath of God moved over the waters before time began. With a word, God created the world. And at the end, the same Word, the Word made flesh in Jesus, “will come to judge the living and the dead.”

The creative presence of God imbues all things, at all times and in all places. This is big news! And it is the cause for our hope.

—

But still, the fact remains that we are in the middle of things, and the middle is an unsettling place. What do we do with ourselves in the present tense? How do we read the signs? How do we know that Christ is coming near?

Let’s take a closer look at today’s reading from Luke: Jesus starts with a pretty typical apocalyptic message. There will be weird shifts in the planets, eclipses, weather events, and terrible tidal waves. A collective sense of foreboding will fall upon the face of the earth. Then, the “Son of Man,” the long-awaited Messiah, will descend from on high.

We assumed all these signs were pointing to a terrible end. But it turns out, this Son of Man, Jesus, has come to redeem the world.

And what does redemption mean? It means someone pays all of your debts and sets you free from bondage and obligation. It means everything that was taken away is now given back to you and you have everything you need.

Jesus clarifies his words with a parable…

‘”Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.’

Jesus says, this is how you know that Christ is coming near: the things you took as signs of death are being transformed into new life.

Like fig trees sprouting new leaves, just in time for summer. You’ll have delicious fruit to eat by August.

The signs of Christ’s coming, even when they are foreboding, are not intended to be understood through a lens of death and destruction. Like winter turning into spring, signs of death ultimately lead to new life: the branch springing up, the new leaves on the fig tree, freedom and fresh starts. These signs of life are already present with us, and they’re just as real as death. Christ is already near.

It is good for Christian apocalypse to be central to our faith, because it is an antidote to atrophy. We don’t accept death as the end of the story. And this means we live our lives with persistence., taking care of our neighbors, praying for restoration, and abounding in love for another.

—

The trials and tribulations endemic to this world wear on us. We are tired and afraid. We’d like to forget about our troubles for a little while. I think people have probably felt this way since the world began.

But Jesus shouts, now is not the time! Now is the time to “be alert” and pay attention! If you don’t pay attention, you’ll miss the buds on the branches. You’ll miss the joy of the sweet, sticky figs.

You’ll miss the fact that the Word of God is speaking into darkness, and always doing a new thing.

—

And that’s what Advent is really about. Whether we’re looking back to creation, or the incarnation, or looking ahead with fear and trepidation, God is always interrupting time to do a new thing.

Advent means arrival, after all. And what is arrival but an interruption, an abrupt end of one thing and the start of a new thing? The arrival of a baby that will save the world. The arrival of a King that will make our winter spring.

In Advent, timelines merge, worlds collide, and life on earth takes on the afterglow of Heaven. Here, darkness is always muddled with light, and endings are always new beginnings.

Here, hope is always justified by the glorious, persistent goodness of the eternal Word, surprising us with redemption, over and over again. Happy New Year!

Tag: word

Word of Truth | Sermon

Eternal Word, New Beginnings