It's a Wonderful Strife
We Two Kings
December 18, 2022 • Rev. Joshua Smith • Matthew 2:1–15
Twenty-one years ago this month, my wife, Allie, and I began our dating relationship on the basis of a shared love for the night sky. The allure for her was more scientific; mine more literary. To this day, that overlap manifests itself in one of our greatest joint fears: being “airlocked” into space. Now, you don’t have to be a nerd like us to feel those outer space heebie-jeebies. When most modern folks look up at the stars, a sort of primal terror enters us. I mean, who would willingly depart the rich womb of our mother earth to be birthed violently into the sterile cold of that unfeeling void? Crazy people, that’s who. To the ancient mind, however, the night sky was not known as cold, dark, empty space, at all. It was the heavens: radiant, inhabited, and musical; its harmonic activity influencing the everyday life of all the earth below. Psalm 19 is a good reminder of this vision, where “The heavens declared the glory of God… and night to night revealed knowledge.” Sure, there was still fear associated with the evening sky, but it was of a completely different kind. The ancient person’s question was not whether the heavens are lively and instrumental, but whether or not we could persuade those powers to act in our favor. Or at the very least, live quiet lives sheltered from their notice! Even though the ancients had their astrophysics wrong, their metaphysics were much closer to the way things actually work. After all, as Arthur C. Clarke has mused, “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” Maybe we have replaced astrology for astronomy, horoscopes for microscopes, but there’s no doubt that humans still search diligently for any kind of insight that might help us retain a modicum of control over our lives. Wise men know that if there is hope for us, it resides “out there." This week, we’ll see the familiar Herod and Magi, as they gaze upward, ad astra, in the hope that all the speech and knowledge pouring forth from that enchanted sky might lead them to a child born King. And as always, the question is not whether stars say such things, but what their message incites in us: is it trouble, or joy? - joshua
An Unexpected Invitation
December 11, 2022 • Rev. James M. Holland • Luke 2:8–20
Nativity Scenes. What got me thinking about them was the story of one my daughters, Anne Rachael, buying one recently while in Mexico with her husband, Wesley. Telling about that led to an even more outlandish story from Josh about nativity scenes which I didn’t believe till verified. At both, I laughed maniacally and, to be truthful, you have to see that they often take part in the comedic. You will have to come Sunday to hear the full story on that one; but seriously, of the making of nativity scenes there is no end, and most homes have several of them. From ones that are very expensive to those paper ones made perhaps in Sunday School whose only value is sentimental, and everything in between. I was thinking about the characters that make up a nativity scene, particularly the shepherds, because they are the subject of our meditation this Sunday and for good reason. We are so familiar with the birth narrative that we don’t register the shock it deserves. Last week we saw the birth; this week, the birth announcement. And if the whole thing really is sort of brutal, as it seems, it’s almost not surprising that the ones who get the announcement are those who were viewed as brutal by the polite society of the day––at least, not the people invited to the baby shower or hospital after an infant is born. Maybe we should have expected this. Anyway, it ought to be a glorious trek from field to manger. I am also thinking about our Special Friends Christmas celebration, which is tomorrow morning. We have double the attendees this year, and for that I am so excited. I walked through the sanctuary, where we will feed and host our guests, and was so thankful that we get to participate in bringing a little bit of glory into this broken world. If you haven’t signed up to volunteer and would still like to be involved, contact Amy Henson (mailto:amy@stpatrickpres.com) or Allie Harbert (mailto:specialfriends@stpatrickpres.com) and ask how you can help. Blessings, Jim
A King in a Manger
December 4, 2022 • Rev. James M. Holland • Luke 2:1–7
We were doing Advent with Addy at breakfast this morning. The candle was lit and the Advent tree, which has a door for each day in Advent, was opened. Each day has a special note in it about whatever special thing is going on, which for this day was the Christmas Parade. It also has a piece of chocolate, but on this special day there were two and that brought a moment of sadness because my granddaughter Penelope, who was supposed to be with us, had had to cancel because she came down with the flu. We were already starting behind the baseline, it seemed. Until I asked the question about what we celebrated during Advent: “So, Addy, why do we celebrate Advent?” Nothing. Me, trying to get something going, "Are we celebrating Santa Claus?” Addy emphatically denied that all this was about Santa, so I said, “What then?” She finally said, “Jesus being a baby.” I said, “What is so special about that—babies are born all the time.” She thought a minute and then said, “Well, it is that Jesus is all mixed up with God or something.” How do you explain the hypostatic union to a seven-year-old? After I composed myself, I just said, “Yes, Jesus, when he was born, was fully God and fully man." She seemed satisfied with that, and off we went into the Advent lesson. So here we are, about to celebrate the second week of Advent; and in our text this week, we encounter a road trip from hell because Mary is over eight months along and is making a journey of over 90 miles, not in a car or even covered wagon. Can you imagine? I know how long it takes to cover 90 miles when your wife goes into labor—a little over an hour. When Teri went into labor with Jamie, we were in Greenville, Mississippi, and the doctor was in Jackson., Mississippi—90 miles. Yes, doing 90 with flashers on, it is a little over an hour. That was hard enough on Teri—imagine walking or riding on a donkey. Then there is a problem of lodging and delivery. I tell you, it was brutal. The text intent is for us to see that. But also, something more is going on—seen from another light, it is absolutely beautiful. The very form of beauty, in fact. We will talk about all this on Sunday. I hope to see you there. Oh, and pray for no rain this afternoon! We have set the table to invite the whole town to come feast with us in our parking lot tonight, before and during the Christmas Parade. It should be a spectacle—13 food trucks! It has to be a record for the town of Collierville. That much goodness in one place! Blessings, Jim
The Scandal of Advent
November 27, 2022 • Rev. James M. Holland • Matthew 1:18–25
The Scandal of Advent Advent is here again and I am so thankful. The church looks like a vision; it is never more beautiful than when we celebrate the Incarnation. There is no better argument that we are more than merely thinking creatures than a church festooned and gilded to the nines. We want more than the ordinary when we are making our way towards something as momentous, history-altering, and life-changing as the Incarnation. We want the ordinary taken to another plane of beauty. This Advent Season we are contemplating, It’s a Wonderful Strife. Yes, you saw that correctly and, yes again, it is a riff on Frank Capra’s classic Christmas movie, It’s a Wonderful Life. If you think about it, most of the story of Jesus coming into the world is filled with strife. (In fact, George Bailey’s life was, as well!) Nothing about it looks like a Hallmark Christmas movie. Seriously, an unwed mother, a fiancé who is going to end the engagement privately to hide the shame, mangers for a king, animals, and ne’er-do-wells who would never be on the guest list as attendees, murderous rulers, and unexpected journeys away from danger. And yet, this is the story of Advent; and it is wonderful and full of strife—a wonderful strife. Isn’t it? Isn’t it just like God to work in the midst of, and at the point of, strife to bring about his purposes? Isn’t it just like God to build a dance floor on the ashes of our lives and to weave a better story than we would ever dream of? So much of the gospel and the Christian life is telescoped into these few small narratives. And the truth is that, if you try to remove the strife, you will also remove the fact that Grace is Everything. We will start with Mary and Joseph and how Jesus entered their lives—talk about scandal! I hope you will join us for this first Sunday of Advent. I, for one, can’t wait!