Sermon on December 20, 2009
Sermon for the Episcopal Church of St John the Baptist, Capitola,
given by Rev. Stuart Schlegel
The Episcopal Church of Saint John the Baptist welcomes all to worship God and to share Christ's love in the world. We are a parish family committed to provide liturgy, Bible study, music, counseling, and Christian education for children, youth, and adults, and to equip all our members for life and for service to others.
Sermon: Our Gift to the Lord
Today, the month-long season of Advent comes to its fourth and last Sunday. Thursday night will be Christmas Eve. So I suppose that most of us have by now done our Christmas shopping and have gotten the presents we will be giving on this greatest of gift-giving holidays.
Every year, as I go about thinking over and selecting gifts, I am drawn to the words which used to be said by the celebrant on behalf of us all in every Eucharist: “and here we offer and present unto thee, O Lord, ourselves, our souls and bodies. . . “ You know, the only real gift we can give anyone – of which Christmas gifts are a sort of annual symbol – is the gift of ourselves. And that is the only real gift we can give to the Lord.
And yet, most of us, I suspect, don’t give much thought to this during the year. Don’t give much thought to our giving of ourselves to Christ. We think of missionaries, or nuns or the like; they give themselves to Christ. But we go to church, we make a pledge, we perhaps give thanks over our food. Are those giving ourselves, our souls and bodies, to the Lord?
There are many sides to this question. Would a gift of me be worthy? Would it amount to much? What sort of gift would it be? What does the whole idea even mean? Well, of course, we aren’t “worthy.” But it is a bedrock principle in both the Hebrew and the Christian scriptures that anything that is freely offered, however small or commonplace, can be used by God for extraordinary purposes. In God’s hand, even small things are multiplied and become great.
Jesus embodies this principle in his feeding of the multitudes. You all know the story. At the close of a long, weary day, crowds of people were still following Jesus, hanging on his every word. There was nothing to feed them with except a pitiful five barley loaves and two small fishes. But a young boy stepped forward and freely offered them to Jesus. People must have scoffed at the size of the offering. What was that to feed thousands of people? But Jesus took that and blessed it, and it proved enough for everyone to eat his or her full, and there were twelve basketfuls of scraps left over.
You know, biblical scholars debate about that story. Some say it was a miracle, a divine intervention in the ways of earthly reality. Others say it was a miracle, but a more natural one: that, impressed by the boy’s sharing, the rest of the crowd reached into their pockets and shared what they had. Either way, the point of the story to the evangelists who told it is clear: in Christ’s hands the little that is offered freely becomes much, becomes enough.
There’s another familiar story in scripture that speaks to this, particularly at Advent time. An angel appeared to an unknown village maiden and gave her the startling news that she had been chosen by God to give birth to the long-awaited Messiah. It must have been a frightening call, because it would clearly mean shame and humiliation. She was betrothed to Joseph, but not yet married to him, and how would her family and the community react to her becoming pregnant too soon? How would Joseph possibly understand? And yet, she responded, “Yes.” “Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy Word.” Mary wasn’t called to give her lunch, but her body and her reputation. And because she made that gift, God’s purpose was carried out though her. And we remember Mary as the epitome of all that is finest and noblest in human beings.
Let me add a third little story to this collage. In the book of Acts, a man named Ananias makes a brief appearance. In a vision, God appeared to him and told him to go to a certain house, where he would find Saul. Saul, who had been blinded in his dramatic conversion on the Damascus road, needed care. This was a frightening request too. Ananias had heard about this Saul and knew he was a fiery and ruthless persecutor of the Christians. It must have felt like an Austrian Jew being asked to go to minister to Hitler! But the Bible tells it very simply: “So Ananias went.” And he became the instrument through whom Saul was brought into the love and fellowship of the Christian community. And Saul, the ruthless persecutor of the Christians, became Paul the tireless ambassador for Christ.
I think what it means to “offer ourselves, our souls and bodies” is to open ourselves in love and trust to those around us, and thus to allow ourselves to be used by the Lord in his scheme of things. To give over our possessions when they are needed. To risk our reputation, when that is needed. To risk being afraid, if that is called for. I doubt that God will use many of us in such a dramatic way as God used that unnamed lad with the bread and fishes, Mary in her young trust, or Ananias in his faithful obedience. But our gifts will be no less significant or real. It is the willingness to give of ourselves that makes Christmas presents what they are, and it is what makes Christianity as well.
Advent is almost over. The struggle with guest lists, with greeting cards, with holiday baking – all of the things that come with this time of too much to do and too little time to do it. But we find time to do these things, because those gifts, those cards, and those cookies are truly important. In a few days, Christmas will dawn again, and around the altar at church, around the tree at home, and around the table at dinner, we will experience and give expression to the beauty, the mystery, and the awe of God’s coming to us – God’s unique and stirring gift of God’s self born in the Christ child, born into our lives and hearts.
Where is the Lord on our gift list? What do we have to give him? What can we offer this King of Kings and Lord of Lords, who will soon be lying in a humble manger? Just “ourselves, our souls and bodies.” We can give him our little, humble, daily “yeses” to his little, usually unglamorous, daily calls. An act of kindness. A moment of forgiveness. A little reaching out. A loving thought, warmly expressed. A caring and healing touch.
It is from these little, daily, seemingly insignificant gifts of ourselves, that God builds the Kingdom.
Amen.