In Abba’s House
Christmas 1C-24
Immanuel Lutheran, Chicago
‘Chosen ones, holy and beloved… clothe yourselves in love” (Colossians 3:12 & 14). A thousand years before the birth of Jesus Hanna brought Samuel to live with Eli at the shrine at Shiloh. This was part of the bargain she had struck with God in prayer. If God would give her a son, she would give him back to God. The child would become a priest in the service of God. (1 Samuel 9:1-28). We read today that Samuel wore a linen ephod even as a small boy. He wore a liturgical garment which looked like a sort of sleeveless apron as a sign his sacred identity as one chosen by God.
It must have seemed odd, or maybe, did Samuel just look so super-cute as a very young child toddling around the temple wearing the sign of a grown-up priest? It’s absurd right? Yet, we must admit we are doing something like this whenever we baptize infants. In fact, we baptize, and therefore, set aside for God’s service, not just a few special children, like Samuel, but every child. The result is that not just some of us—but all of us are clothed in the new life of Christ in baptism.
As Paul pointed out to the Christians in Colossae, the clothing we receive in baptism has some striking features that are intended to set us apart and to reflect our identity in the loving character of God. God’s chosen ones “clothe [themselves] with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience” (Colossians 3:12). “You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9). “Clothe yourselves,” therefore, “with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony” (Colossians 3:14).
Unfortunately, in my experience, religious people often take their specialness to heart but not their intended mission. They strike a harsh and judgmental pose and hold themselves above and apart from secular people and people of other faiths. This supposed superiority quickly becomes hypocritical and tragically, is used to hide a world of pain and abuse.
The fact is, despite our best intentions, we people of faith get our specialness wrong in at least three ways. First, as Martin Luther reminded us again and again, we tend to take credit for our acts of love and not the love that made it possible in the first place. The grace of God comes first. It comes freely, abundantly, and underserved for all and then, second, this gift of love sometimes inspires works and deeds of faith. Religious people, no matter how well intentioned and devoted must guard against putting the cart of works before the horse of grace. It takes a great deal of humility and self-criticism, and openness to being held accountable to one other to keep God’s grace and love front and center.
If there is such a thing as religious ambition (that is, if it’s not an oxymoron), then make it yours to be a warm and loving presence in the world as Jesus was. To put on the garment of Christ is to be joyfully in the world in deep solidarity with our neighbors, loving them as equals rather than considering ourselves holier than thou and therefore better than them.
The second way I want to highlight many religious people get their specialness wrong is that they still imagine God to be elsewhere. Jesus came and went. He was born a child of God here on earth and ascended into heaven. Someday, he will come back again. Somehow, we have turned the incarnation, which is one of the most distinctive gifts of the Christian witness among world religions, into singular event that involved Jesus but not us. Yet, the whole idea of putting on the life of Christ means that we have already become part of this divine life. Compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, patience, and love flow from participation in the life of God. To tap into this abundant and everlasting life we must quiet our hearts and minds to the here and now that is the holy ground upon which we encounter God in Christ.
The last way religious people have tended to get their specialness wrong is by presuming that their identity as children of God entitles them to compel others to conform to their own narrow standards of behavior. The sacred freedom of conscience is sacrificed on the altar of self-righteousness. In the name of love, religious people in authority wield the threat of violence both in this life and the next. People of faith must be ready examine and unpack Christianity’s unholy captivity to the history of colonization, subjugation and empire. We must interrogate and speak out against the religious claims of Christian nationalism (an oxymoron) and Christian Zionism (a tragic lie).
We must help one another to return Jesus’ way of compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, patience and love. Jesus taught us in the Sermon the Mount that, as part of a new movement, we are “…to bless the very people who are usually excluded… we [are to] bless the poor and the poor in spirit. We bless those who mourn, we bless the meek or gentle, we bless those who hunger and thirst for justice. We bless the merciful and the pure in heart. We bless the peacemakers and those who are persecuted for standing up for justice. And then Jesus continues: We see the world differently because we bless people who are usually forgotten, despised, or excluded. That different way of seeing the world leads to a different way of being in the world” (Richard Rohr, Being Salt and Light, Daily Meditations, 12/29/24)
Jesus was 12 years old when his family made the trip to Jerusalem from Nazareth for the Passover. He was of that age when a young boy becomes a full participant in the congregation at their bar-mitzvah. When his parents realize after three days journey that they had lost him they return to Jerusalem to search frantically for him. Just imagine how they must have felt. I once lost track of Sam at the Taste of Chicago. The memory is burned into my brain despite it being only a few minutes before we found him. The young Jesus told Mary and Joseph to search for him and they would always find him in his father’s house. (vs. 49).
Today’s gospel was a rehearsal for the Easter story. Sadly, the world no more understands the church’s subversive mission than Mary and Joseph understood that of their son when they went searching. The gospel of Luke prepares us for the three days that Jesus will again go missing in Jerusalem in the days stretching from the cross to the open tomb. The disciples will grieve and feel hopeless just as Mary and Joseph did.
But their great discovery and our great good news is that now, the Father’s house exists not only in Jerusalem, not only in heaven, but encompasses the whole earth. What’s more, the spirit of Christ is indwelling in all that is, everywhere and always within the entire sweep of the cosmos. For 13.8 billion years, the spirit of God’s love has been at play and at work among us. Jesus called God Abba, or daddy. Our mission in Christ is to live in such a way that all people come to know and love Abba as Jesus did. It’s that simple. It’s that amazing.
So put on Christ. Let’s help one another to put on compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, patience, and love. Let’s act out, embody, and exhibit practices of human care, healing, and reconciliation, now as in the time of Jesus. The church community that practices genuine forgiveness becomes part of a peaceable kin-dom after the manner of Jesus. Be a church empowered in its daring vocation by a grounding in gratitude for the goodness of God.
