“All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet: ‘Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,’ which means ‘God is with us.’” —Matthew 1:23

And so, Christmas is finally here. All the stress of preparation. All the planning, travel, gift buying. All the craziness of the season has led up to this moment: exhaustion. Whether you’re just getting back from midnight services or are settling down for a ‘long winter’s nap’ after a busy evening of preparation, you are often likely to experience the actual Christmas day as somewhat anticlimactic. For once all the packages have been ripped open, and the cookies and eggnog drunk, there can come a sense of let-down. Perhaps, that is because we hype Christmas so much as an event and don’t think of it as a way of life.

Now, I am not suggesting that we keep the trees up year round or sing carols in July (though I know a few of you who would more than willingly do exactly that). I am talking about the central message of Christmas as the governing principle of our lives: solidarity. For that’s what Christmas really is about—a declaration of God’s solidarity with us. Christ comes to us as God’s presence in our midst, the Word made Flesh. The Immanuel: “God is with us.”

Perhaps Christmas is prone to let downs because we keep expecting something wondrous. And often, Christmas is exactly that. But what happens on December 26th? Is our sense of wonder still intact? When the radio stations stop playing Christmas music and return to soft rock and the CVS starts stocking up on Valentine’s Day cards, is it easy for us to stay in the Christmas sprit?

But the real story of Christmas is that God is with us not only in the times of celebration and splendor, in the festivals and the parties, but in the drudgery and the ordinary. God is with us not just during the Twelve Days of Christmas, but throughout the cold, snowy winter as well. God is with us through all the seasons of our lives, however dark or drear they may be. That is the true story of Christmas, not that God came to us as a poor, lowly child, but that God stays with us all the days of our lives.

So, the excitement and the energy of the Christmas holiday may wane once we have finally crashed on that couch late Christmas day, but the power of Christmas is ours to proclaim our whole lives long.

Merry Christmas!

Rev Mark A. Schaefer
United Methodist Chaplain

In the culture at large, the Christmas season has already been underway for some time.  And this year Thanksgiving was muscled out of the way on Thanksgiving night by major retailers anxious to get a jump on holiday sales, barely allowing the turkey, stuffing, and potatoes to settle before the onslaught began.

When I was a kid, I loved Christmas.  Who wouldn’t?  That magical day when all these presents arrived under a beautifully decorated tree.  It was the focal point of the entire season.  That Christmas catalog that arrived in October, endlessly paged through on the quest for toys to add to your Christmas list.  The absolute impatience with which I viewed the weeks of December, willing them to melt away quickly so that we might get more speedily to Christmas.

Sometime in my youth, I remember driving home from our grandparents’ house at the end of a long Christmas day and mentioning that something felt different about Christmas that year.  My father said, “It’s because it’s no longer as magical for you.”  He was right.  Once Santa was out of the picture and that childhood wonder about the day replaced by a slightly more world-aware teenage outlook, the holiday never quite felt the same.  It had lost some of its magic.  Christmas wouldn’t be the same.

In recent years, I have been able to reclaim some of the magic of the season.  But it is not all found at Christmas.  For me it is found just as much in Advent.  It is found in the Waiting.

Perhaps it’s merely a function of age.  Each year is clocking in at about 2.3% of my entire life.  That is, each year is smaller than the standard margin of error.  They are statistically insignificant and by my estimation are moving way too fast.  While the college students I work with are anxious to get the season rolling, anxious to begin singing Christmas music and decorating, I find myself wishing more and more for things to just… slow… down.  The child who could not wait for Christmas Day to arrive has become the man who wishes the days of Advent to slow to a crawl.

My students will no doubt find this odd, and that’s to be understood.  There are some things about growing older you only understand by doing it.  But for old and for young, there is another reason for us to embrace the season of Advent.  It is because waiting has become a lost art.

Time was, we had to wait for things.  You had to write a letter, drop it in the mail, allow a few days for delivery, wait for your correspondent to write a reply, drop it in the mail, take a couple of days to get back to you.  At the quickest, this would take at least a week. Businesses, law firms, governmental agencies all understood the time period involved.  Now, you send an e-mail and expect a reply within minutes.  If a reply is not received, another e-mail will shortly be sent: “I don’t know if you got my first e-mail….”.

Documents are sent electronically via PDF rather than courier.  Purchases made instantly online.  Information wondered about or looked up at home is accessible via smartphone from every part of the globe.  We no longer even just wait at the bus stop or on the subway platform.  We entertain ourselves via smartphone with games, Facebook, and other diversions, so that even our waiting time isn’t really waiting time; it’s just more busy time while standing still.  There are no pauses.  There is no waiting. Every thing happens quickly; every moment filled.

There is a dearth of Sabbath time in our culture.  We rarely take the pauses in life that healthy, spiritual living requires.  A function of that is our inability to wait.  Perhaps I am the only one who finds the current culture exhausting but I don’t think so.  The students I work with now are under more pressure, seem more tired and stressed, more stretched thin, than any group I’ve known before.  Sabbath rest, pause, and waiting, might bring a little bit of balance back to lives constantly on the go.

I still love Christmas. But the reasons have more to do with the wonderful period of Advent that precedes it.  The miracle of the Incarnation really only makes sense with a period of longing and hope before it.  And lest we think that it is only in Christmas that we find God, we are reminded that it is often in those wildernesses, those deserts, the in-between places, that God is also encountered.  For in the waiting we find rest.  In the waiting we find our hopes rekindled.  In the waiting we come to understand  that “those who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:31)

Rev. Mark A. Schaefer
United Methodist Chaplain
American University

It is always hard to be away from home, away from my family, and even away from the United States on Thanksgiving. Normally, I am not one to be distraught by homesickness, but Thanksgiving is one truly American holiday, with deep roots in American cuisine, family, friends, and, yes, perhaps even football.

In Germany, Erntedankfest, the German equivalent of American Thanksgiving (literally translated as the Festival of Thanks for the Harvest) is celebrated at the beginning of October. In contrast to our American Thanksgiving, Erntedankfest is neither a national holiday nor an overtly family holiday; instead, Erntedankfest is a religious holiday, which is by-and-large only celebrated, or known, to Christians in Germany. At my congregation, we collected perishable food items for another after-school project in the city.

Much less consumer centric than our American tradition of giving thanks by preparing and devouring a feast with our families before passing out on the couch to watch football, this means of giving thanks is much less pompous, much more reflective, and much less for ourselves. I like that Erntedankfest begins standing before the altar rather than sitting at the table: rather than thanking God for what we have by feeding ourselves, we are feeding others; rather than only celebrating with our family and relatives, we are celebrating with our broader Christian family; rather than sitting in comfort at our own table in our own homes, we are standing, ready to act, before a common table in a house of worship…and in my opinion, if the giving of thanks should begin anywhere, it should begin in a house of worship.

In reflecting on this different (and likely more Christian) means of giving thanks for the harvest, I realize, as Barbara Kingsolver says, that “God is in the details, the completely unnecessary miracles sometimes tossed up as stars to guide us.”

It is these miracles, these stars for which I am thankful: For having enough food to eat and having the privilege to choose what I want to eat; for hearing a first grade student from Romania speak her first complete German sentence during our October holiday language program and later seeing this same girl laugh and smile for the first time (after knowing her for one month); for having a place to live; for the religious freedom to take a group of teenage boys, both Muslims and Christians, on a field trip to the ?ehitlik Mosque in celebration of the ‘Day of German Unity’ on October 3, and to work together daily with individuals of diverse and differing religious backgrounds; for having health insurance and access to medical care in Germany; for my wonderful co-workers, both here at the Kindertreff and the General Board of Global Ministries missionaries and young adult missionaries serving around the world; for seeing joy, love, and adoration in children’s faces on a daily basis; and for knowing that you, my family and friends, are accompanying me in my journey here through prayer, financial support, and love.

Let us, then, give thanks. Not only through breaking bread with those around us at the table this Thanksgiving, but also by sharing a thankful exclamation to those we seldom acknowledge and extending a caring hand to those whom we may never meet.

To support Michelle’s work as a United Methodist missionary in Germany, visit advancinghope.org and make a donation to her Advance # 3021334.

Methodist Students, Seminarians and Young Adults for an All Inclusive Church (or MOSAIC) is the Young Adult extension ministry of RMN. This year we are inaugurating two awards for individuals and groups committed to the mission of MOSAIC: to advocate for the full participation of persons of all sexual orientations and gender identities within the life and leadership of the United Methodist Church. The Shepherd of Hope award is given to an individual or organization who supports and resources young adults to live out more fully the mission of MOSAIC. The recipient of this year’s award is a campus ministry that has been a leader in the Reconciling movement for years. With the help of their campus minister, this UM Student Association has been a vocal advocate for LGBTQ rights, frequently supporting Annual Conference delegates and witnesses, encouraging students to work for change in Conference Reconciling teams, and producing leaders for MOSAIC and RMN. This year, when Fred Phelps and the Westboro Baptist Church visited the University hatefully demonstrating their homophobia, this campus ministry organized groups of students to minister in love and hospitality to the demonstrators, offering them water and hot chocolate. We are proud to present this Shepherd of Hope award to the UM Student Association of the American University in Washington, DC and their Campus Minister, Rev. Mark Schaefer.

It is, of course, a great honor to be recognized as a community in this way.  We work hard on our campus and in our community to be an inclusive community where all are welcomed.  We help to equip leaders by giving them the resources and the knowledge to be more effective advocates in their home churches and Annual Conferences.  And so it’s nice to be recognized for that kind of effort.  But on some level I can’t help but think about Chris Rock’s routine where he scolds people for taking credit for things they’re supposed to do.  I am reminded that the goal of what we are seeking is a church where such awards are no longer necessary, because we as a church will have finally lived into what is our mission, what we’re supposed to be doing.

The very name of the award itself is a reminder of that: Shepherd of Hope.  For Christ is our Shepherd of Hope and we as the body of Christ are supposed to live in a way that reflects the hope he brings.  We are supposed to incarnate who Jesus was and live that out in the world.  And Jesus’ example is ever before us: welcoming the stranger and the outcast, sharing love with all, embracing those whom society had rejected.  And so, as a community we might wonder, how can we not welcome all people regardless of race, sex, national origin, sexual orientation, gender identity, or anything else?  How can we not extend the radical solidarity that Christ shared with us with all people?

I’m going to take a moment of personal privilege here and brag about my students of whom I am so immensely proud, so bear with me.  If they have demonstrated themselves as equipped, resourced, and trained to advocate for inclusion and to combat homophobia and prejudice, it is only because they have been living out that vision in community already.  The passion that they bring to speaking out for LGBTQ people is not an academic interest, it is because they have seen how powerfully the Spirit moves in a community where hospitality for all is lived out.  It is because they are so committed to living the Gospel that they have demonstrated leadership in the church at large.  It is because they have imitated their Shepherd so well.

We are grateful for this award and the smiles on the faces of our community members when they heard the news were wide and demonstrated the satisfaction of a community whose joy has been found by others.  But we know that we haven’t done anything but what we’re supposed to do and we look forward to the day when radical hospitality is unremarkable.  As Peter Rollins says, “Perhaps the mission of the church is not to make saints, but to make a world where saints are no longer necessary.”  We won’t always get it right, or do it perfectly, but we’ll continue to live out Christ’s love and radical hospitality as best we can.  In so doing, perhaps we ourselves will be shepherded closer to the hope that all will be able to share in the love of God.

Rev. Mark Schaefer
United Methodist Chaplain

At S'mores with s'Methodists

In just two short days we begin Welcome Week, a week chock full of events designed to help new students acclimate to campus and to fill their time with activities where they can meet and make friends.  During that week we keep ourselves pretty busy as well with all kinds of programming featuring gems like “S’mores with s’Methodists”.  Welcome Week is a busy and important time for us.

But is our welcoming limited to that one week?

Most would agree that it is not.  Welcoming is standard church-fare.  At least, that’s the sense you get from driving past our churches.  Most of our churches bear some version of the “All Are Welcome” sentiment on their church signs.  But then why is it that one of the strongest complaints levied against the church today is that we are unwelcoming?  How can that be when our church signs clearly say everyone is welcome?

For too long, the church has had the idea that welcoming people means inviting them into your community where they can be just like you.  That is: “You are welcome to be one of us.”  Less commonly encountered—and thus the source of the criticism—is the “You are welcome to be who you are” sentiment.  That is, after all, the harder thing to do, isn’t it?

It is instructive that Jesus placed no pre-conditions on who he welcomed, or who he associated with.  He didn’t invite people into his company only to assimilate them into some acceptable standard.  He invited them in as they were.  Accepted and loved them for who they were.  Now, that doesn’t mean that people with brokenness weren’t called to become whole, but what it means is that they were not invited in with any qualification on the welcome.  They were welcome for who they were. As they were: beloved children of God.

We’re about to start another year together as a faith community and we kick that off with Welcome Week as usual.  But what will the quality of our welcome be like?  How can we ensure that as a community we seek not simply more numbers, more members, but more genuine relationships with people?  How do we as a community model a kind of welcome that is so greatly needed in the world? And ensure that it lasts more than a week?

My generation never had to be told that.  We had to be told to stop goofing off.  But so many of the students in this community have the opposite problem: they’re booked with activities and work to within an inch of their lives.  A free day in one’s schedule is seen not as a joyous opportunity for rest and doing nothing, it’s often seen as a slot to be scheduled with another course, another internship, another activity.

Our culture isn’t terribly good at this either.  Technology, a tool generally touted as “time saving” has made us more available to each other and the expectations of immediate return and response has given us very few places where people cannot find us.  Clients send lawyers e-mails on their vacations.  Professors post assignments in the middle of the night knowing their students will get the information.  There are very few places and spaces for pause any more.

Sabbath is an important spiritual concept.  It is that space, that pause, that emptiness that gives definition to everything else we do.  It is like the rests in a line of music, giving shape and definition to the notes of the melody.  Without it, our lives are a cacophony, a never-ending relentless noise that wears us down.

So, realizing it’s important to model these things, I’m about to head out for some sabbath time.  My e-mail will go unchecked.  My office voicemail will only tell people they’ll have to wait for me to call them back.  I know that I work better when I rest well, even though I don’t do it enough.  For those of you who are similarly workaholic by nature, I invite you to stop what you’re doing.  Take a rest.  A pause.  Find some sabbath.

And for members of our community: how can we as a community help an over-programmed, exceedingly busy, stressed out generation find those places of rest and sabbath in their lives?  What more can we be doing to help people live into practices of spiritual wholeness and healing?  How do we witness as a community to the Christ who calls to us: “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest”?

For a long time it has been obvious to many of us that the church was engaged in consumerism. That is, we were selling a product to the masses. We’d rail at the corporate world trying to sell you Coca-Cola, Lexus automobiles, or Viagra as a way to fulfill you. But then we’d turn right around and say that we had the product that actually brought fulfillment and meaning: God. That much has been apparent to many of us for quite some time.

But Rollins spoke to us of an alternative (and ancient) model of church: a church that sought not to sell people relief from their problems and a “cure for what ails ya,” but instead became a place for people to face those problems head on, to explore their own brokenness in a community of love and grace. That is, the church should not be an oasis, but a desert. A wilderness experience wherein we do not cover over our problems with a narrative—”It’s alright, God’s in charge and you’ll go to heaven”—but rather challenges us to face what Rollins calls “our own monstrosity”.

For example, many (if not most) people have doubt. They wonder whether it’s all true, whether the hopes that they have are vindicated. Their pastor tells them that everything is fine. Most of them, however, don’t believe it, but they can perpetuate this situation because their pastor believes it for them. But what if the church were a place where that doubt were confronted head-on and not papered over by acts of piety and religious ritual designed to make us feel better? What if church were a place were we were honest with our own doubt, our own darkness, our own failings, and were able to embrace that brokenness in the concept of beloved community?

I have found this to be a convicting vision of church. We are not the place that fixes peoples’ problems. We are not the answer to peoples’ hopes and dreams. Rather, we are the place wherein people are encouraged to own their brokenness and loved as the broken people they are and in that love and grace, there is the possibility of transformation and true healing.

There is much still I am in the midst of processing of this vision. But I know that as a community committed to ministries of healing and of welcoming all people, this may be providing a moment of opportunity for us to do a radically new (and very old) thing: to create a space in which we share our brokenness and find healing. And through finding healing, finding God already in our midst.

Members of our campus ministry community, what are some of the ways that we might create such a space? How can we live out a grace so radical that all feel welcomed and free to share with one another their doubts, their fears, their darkness, and their brokenness and in so doing find healing and God-with-us?

Not tomorrow, but, you know, eventually?

No.

Never?

Never.

Wait, why not?

Allow me to explain.

The Rapture, from the Latin raptus “seizing”, refers to the belief by some Christians that at the End of Days, Jesus will return and take up the faithful into heaven with him.  These righteous evacuees will be spared the turmoil and tumult of a period of Tribulation during which (among other things) the Antichrist will rule the earth, earthquakes, plagues, wars, and devastations will ravage the earth, and ultimately, the world itself will be destroyed.

It’s a nice idea, but it does not have a long pedigree.  It came out of early Nineteenth Century dispensationalist theology and the work, in particular, of an Irish clergyman named John Nelson Darby. [1]  The idea of the Rapture has a foundation in some poor Biblical interpretation and even poorer Christian theology.

Scripture

One of the Biblical passages that is often quoted in support of the idea of the Rapture is the following passage from Matthew (with parallel passages in Luke):

For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man. Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left. (Matthew 24:37–41 NRSV)

This seems to be very much the situation contemplated by most espousers of a rapture and the idea that lies behind the plot of the Left Behind series. Two are standing on a street; the righteous one is taken up to heaven and the unrighteous is left behind in the world that is lost to destruction and devastation.

But there are two possibilities for the interpretation of the word “taken” and neither of them supports the idea of a rapture of the Church.

First, “taken” might have a negative interpretation.  Given the experience of the Jews in the Babylonian Exile, the term “taken” might have the sinister implications of being taken into captivity, exile, or death. In the Septuagint (the ancient Greek translation of the Old Testament), the same verb is used in Jeremiah to refer to being “dispossessed” of the land.

Second, “taken” might have a positive interpretation, but not in the sense of being raptured.  Since these verses follow after a statement about Noah and the flood, “taken” might refer to being rescued from destruction, but not in the sense of being whisked away to heaven.  Indeed, Noah was taken into the ark but he still experienced the flood—he was just saved from its consequences.  As one commentator notes:

Matthew has no rapture in his eschatological understanding.  Those who are “taken” refers to being gathered into the saved community at the eschaton, just as some were taken into the ark. To be a believer is to endure faithfully the tribulation, which is part of the church’s mission, not to escape from it. [2]

But perhaps the more famous (and more relied upon) passage of scripture is this passage from Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians:

For the Lord himself, with a cry of command, with the archangel’s call and with the sound of God’s trumpet, will descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air; and so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these words. (1 Thessalonians 4:16–18 NRSV)

As with all Biblical interpretation, context is everything.  Here, the context is obscured by the English translation.  The word translated as “to meet” is the Greek word απαντησις apantesis, which means “meeting”. However, it usually connoted an entourage of citizens going out to meet a dignitary. [3] That is, in the ancient world, when a king came to visit a city, a delegation would leave the city, meet the king outside the city walls, and then escort the king back into the city. They did not leave with the king.  And so here, Paul is comforting his parishioners with a hopeful vision.  Those who have died will not miss the resurrection of the dead.  They will be the first ones raised.  As for the rest of us, we’ll go and meet Jesus as he comes to earth (literally from the sky), by going out and meeting him in the air.  But if the rest of the metaphor holds, we return with Christ to earth.  Jesus doesn’t come to meet us in the sky and then take us back with him.

Furthermore, while there are numerous verses about the end of days (it was precisely because there were so many and so varied that John Darby sought to harmonize them all in one account), there are no verses of scripture that speak of Jesus returning twice.  That may seem obvious, but the proponents of the rapture believe that Jesus will return to rapture the church, then leave the world to be destroyed, then come back to reign in the Kingdom of God.  In an attempt to reconcile the diverse and different passages of scripture concerning the end times, Darby and those who came after him have produced a narrative that is nowhere found in the Bible.  Far from being Biblical literalists, those who espouse this view often do great violence to the plain meaning of scripture, let alone to the diversity of voices within the canon.

Theology

But far beyond any Biblical interpretative problems, there are serious theological consequences to a belief in the rapture, ones that stand in stark contrast to the overwhelming bulk of the tradition, and five doctrines essential to Christian faith.

Creation. The first chapter of Genesis describes the creation of the world from the priestly tradition of Israel. Strong on liturgical refrain and a theology that stood in opposition to the violent origin stories of the ancient world, the account in Genesis presents the picture of a gracious and benevolent God who creates the world out of love and generosity. The world that is thus created is described as “good”. It is somewhat depressing to see how those who are the most vocal proponents of taking this story literally (and thus rejecting scientific truths like evolution) are the ones who miss the point of the story so greatly. The overwhelming affirmation of Genesis is the goodness of the creation. In the second chapter of the book, a story coming from a folkloric tradition, humanity is fashioned out of the dust of the earth in order to keep and till the garden of God’s earth. We become living beings in that story, not because we are imparted with a soul, but because God breathes the breath of life into us. From the very beginning of our story we see that the creation is good and that we are an intimately connected part of that creation.

Incarnation. In the first chapter of the Gospel of John, in words that echo the creation in Genesis, we read that the “word became flesh and dwelled among us.” This is a passage that speaks to the Incarnation of the Son of God in human form as Jesus of Nazareth. Note what it does not say. It does not say that the word ‘took on’ flesh or ‘appeared in’ the flesh. It says the word “became” flesh. That is, Jesus was not just the Second Person of the Trinity pretending to be a human being. The miracle of the Incarnation is that the Son of God was a human being. Fully. Truly. In every meaningful way. Our physical being is not apart from God; God chose to become one of us. That is an affirmation of our createdness, and the goodness of our existence.

Sacrament. In Christianity, depending on who you ask, there are two or seven sacraments. All Christians agree on the sacraments of baptism and communion as ordained by Christ for his followers. A sacrament, to put it in traditional language, is a “visible sign of an invisible grace”. That is, we know something about God’s grace, love, self-sacrifice and purposes from having ordinary water poured over us and consuming ordinary bread and wine. In these ordinary elements something divine, something profound is conveyed into us. Were these material things not worthy, they could not possibly convey something of the grace of God. And yet they do.

Resurrection. The entire Christian message begins with the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. Resurrection is an idea that had existed in Judaism that on the last day the dead would be resurrected, raised to new life and would live forever in the Kingdom of God. When Jesus’ disciples found the tomb empty and when they later encountered him risen, they knew that their hopes for life, peace, and justice were vindicated. They knew, as Paul proclaims, that Jesus was just the “firstfruits” of those who have died, that his resurrection heralded the general resurrection of the dead that would one day come. It bears noting that the gospel accounts confirm that Jesus was neither specter nor ghost, but flesh and blood (albeit of a different order). But physical nonetheless. What is important to understand first and foremost about resurrection is that it is not an abandonment of our physical selves, it is an affirmation and glorification of those selves. The central message of Christianity has always been one that affirmed the goodness of the body, so much so that it would not be abandoned (as the Greeks believed) by our soul flying off to some other plane of existence, but that we would return to live as embodied creatures in a new and restored creation. Which takes us to our final point.

New Creation. The vision presented in the Book of Revelation is of a renewed heaven and a renewed earth. Of the New Jerusalem coming down from heaven as a bride adorned for her husband. It is in this city, on this earth, that God will dwell with God’s people, wiping every tear from their eyes. It is not a book of abandonment, but of restoration and renewal. Not of destruction at the hands of a vengeful God, but of resurrection, new life, and the rivers of life flowing freely. It is a vision in which God says “Behold, I am making all things new.

Against this theological core, an idea like the rapture seems significantly out of place. A theology that encourages a belief in escapism takes away its focus from the world of the here and now, which scriptures demonstrates time and time again is God’s focus. And where we are called to be. Abandonment theology encourages complacency and an indifference to the world we live in, for it is not our home, not where we are meant to be. It promotes a decline in social justice, serving the poor, and in stewardship of the creation: precisely those things we are called to do throughout scripture. We cannot write off injustice simply by claiming that this world is not God’s and our fate is to escape this world in any event.

Dr. Craig C. Hill sums it up best in the conclusion to his wonderful book In God’s Time:

More than a century and a half ago, John Nelson Darby wrote, “I believe from Scripture that the ruin is without remedy.” Believers should expect only “a progress of evil.” All of us are the beneficiaries of those Christian reformers who ignored Darby and got on with the business of fighting slavery, opposing child labor, and campaigning for the enfranchisement of women—the business, that is, of making this world a little more like the dominion of God. For the time being, there remains more than enough such work for all of us. “Blessed are those servants whom the master will find at work when he arrives.” (Matt. 24:46) [4]

This is God’s world. God created it. God created us out of it. God came to dwell as one of us in it. God gave us ordinary elements of life and said they would convey something divine to us. God raised Jesus from the dead to new embodied life in this world. And at the end of all things, God will renew, redeem and restore this creation, making all things new. Given that, this world deserves better from us than to hope to abandon it. It deserves the same love, the same hope, and the same tireless work to live out God’s love and grace that God, through God’s own actions, has shown us it is worth.

Rev. Mark Schaefer
United Methodist Chaplain
American University

The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author alone and are not necessarily the opinions of the AU United Methodist Community or The United Methodist Church.

Notes

[1] Craig C. Hill, In God’s Time: The Bible and the Future, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans 2002, p. 200 ff.  This entire work is a wonderful introduction in accessible language to eschatology and end times theology.
[2] The New Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. VIII, Nashville: Abingdon, 1994, p. 446. (Emphasis added). Similarly, in Matthew 24:30-31 the language of the Son of Man “gathering his elect” from the four winds speaks more to the identification of authentic Christian community on the last day than any plan to whisk the righteous out of the world.
[3] The New Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. XI., Nashville: Abingdon, 1994, p. 725.
[4] Hill, p. 208-9.

There are a few words that are not in that small and manic body text. They scream out from the top of the brochure for all the world to see:

THE END OF THE
WORLD IS ALMOST
HERE!
HOLY GOD
WILL BRING
JUDGMENT DAY ON
MAY 21, 2011

Oh.  Those folks.

You have probably heard by now of the Family Radio ministries led by one Harold Camping who has spent much of his life trying to determine the precise date of the end of the world.  He has attracted a number of followers who have gone around the country using billboards, vans, flyers, and other media in a last-ditch effort to warn the world about the impending apocalypse.  In a very last ditch effort they sent me the aforementioned brochure informing me that the Rapture will begin this coming Saturday, May 21, 2011.  I hope you didn’t have plans for the weekend or weren’t planning on having at least until December 21, 2012 when the Mayans say we’re all toast.

I have reflected on what my response to this should be.  My focus in seminary was on Biblical Interpretation and I studied under Dr. Craig Hill who is something of an expert in eschatology. (His wonderful book In God’s Time is a must-read for anyone interested in the End Times.)  And so, I could talk at length about the bad Biblical scholarship that goes into this man’s ludicrous claim that he has computed the end times to begin this coming weekend.  I could talk about his hermeneutical fallacies where he uses scripture to interpret scripture, imagining that each and every verse can shed light on all the others. I could challenge the theological presumptions of his argument that human sinfulness necessitates the destruction of the entire world. I could debunk the idea of the Rapture altogether and point out that it was an 19th Century concoction by an Irish clergyman in his effort to harmonize diverse scriptural accounts. There are a lot of ways I could respond to this nonsense.  But none of them is how I am feeling called to respond.

No, I am called to respond pastorally.

I suppose the world might end this Saturday.  If it does it will have nothing to do with Mr. Camping’s meticulous calculations and will demonstrate only that God has a wry sense of humor.  But what if the world does not end this weekend?  What if there is no rapture this Saturday? No period of great tribulation and turmoil, with millions dying every day until the world is finally destroyed in October?  What if none of that happens?

There are a fair number of people who are following Camping around the country proclaiming this message.  They, like the Millerites more than a century and a half ago, who stood on a hill in 1844 waiting for Christ’s return, are likely going to experience a Great Disappointment.  What will become of their faith then?  Will it collapse altogether like a house of cards? Camping, who made a previous inaccurate prediction in 1994, insists that he is not in error this time.  His brochures proclaim that “The Holy Bible gives several additional astounding proofs that May 21, 2011 is very accurate as the time for the Day of Judgment.”  When asked directly about whether he thinks he might be mistaken this time around (as he was in 1994) he replies that there are no mistakes.  The word of God is true and he’s studied it all.  He is sure.  Many of his followers are likewise sure.  What happens to a faith of that kind of blind certainty when one aspect of it is demonstrated to be wrong?  When the Rapture does not come on Saturday, how will his followers process that? Will they suspect they’d been scammed?  Will they imagine their trusted teacher had erred?  Will they imagine that the whole enterprise of Christian faith is an error?  Will they, because of this failing, chuck the whole thing?

What’s more, many of them have given their livelihoods, sold their property, given up all they own to be a part of this witness.  If the world should, inconveniently, fail to end this weekend, where will they go?  Where will they live? How will they support themselves?  Let us give Mr. Camping the benefit of the doubt and assume that he is not simply trying to fleece these poor people; how will he help to meet their sudden long-term material need?

My initial reaction to receiving this brochure was one of annoyance.  Annoyance at yet another misrepresentation of Christian faith with a very large megaphone (didn’t we have enough of that with the Westboro Baptist Church?). But over time, that reaction has morphed into one of sadness.  Yes, sadness that it is so hard to proclaim a message of Christianity that doesn’t have to deal with these kinds of sideshows and distractions.  But more a sadness at the loss of time, at the loss of creative energy of Camping’s followers that might have been spent doing something more constructive.  Something that would have testified even more powerfully to the inbreaking reign of God than any billboard could ever hope to do.  Imagine how those resources spent on those billboards and vans and flyers might have actually made a difference in the lives of people looking for work, or a home, or something to eat.  Imagine how instead of filling people’s heads with vain thoughts about the End of the World, Camping had led his followers to a deeper, more thoughtful reflection on the wonder that is scripture.  Imagine what good an entire radio network of Christian stations could have accomplished in working for justice, peace, and reconciliation.  No, my friends, if the world does not end on Saturday, there will be enough tragedy to tide us over, only it will not be tragedy of events, but of what might have been.

I don’t know how we can reach out to those who are wrapped up in this.  I am not sure they’d even be responsive (before or after Saturday).  But as one who does believe that the Kingdom of God will someday come, and that our task in the here and now is to live out what that Kingdom will be like, I sense that there is an opportunity for the Church to witness to some healing here for those who have given all for a hope at escape from this world only to find themselves having to live in it a while longer.  There has to be a way for us to help them to see that it is in this world that they will encounter the Christ who became incarnate among us, who gave us here ordinary bread and wine to eat and drink in remembrance, who was raised to new life here, and who will return not to destroy the world, but to renew and redeem it.

That kind of Gospel can’t be shared on a brochure.  It has to be lived.  I hope, for their sakes and for ours, that the Church can do just that.

Rev. Mark Schaefer
United Methodist Chaplain
American University

The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author alone and are not necessarily the opinions of the AU United Methodist Community or The United Methodist Church.

For, here we stand
     at the end of a long road,
          a road on which those gathered here
          have traveled far.

They have learned much,
     done great things,
     seen the world,
     and known a time of great change and challenge.

As they contemplate the stretch of road that lies before them,
     there is no doubt anxiety:
          anxiety about jobs,
               continued education,
               plans for the future.

There are questions they ask and worry:
     Have they learned enough?
     Do they know enough?
     Have they accomplished enough
          to be prepared for the road ahead?

Place in their hearts an awareness of all they have to celebrate:
     Their families and friends,
     Their professors and staff,
     Their beloved alma mater
          —all who have helped them along the way.

But even more,
     as we gather to celebrate what has been
     Take away any anxiety of purpose
     Strengthen their many talents and skills
     and instill in them a confidence in the future.

Grant also, that they may realize
     That they are not defined by what they have learned
     They are not defined by what they know
          or by what they have done.

They are defined by whose they are
     and by the hope they carry in their hearts.

For theirs is a hope that can change the world;
     a world of great need
     a world of brokenness.
A world waiting for them.

Spirit of Love, descend upon our hearts,
Meet us in this hour
     as we pause along the way.

And let us say: Amen.

Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” —Romans 12:19

I have received today’s news with mixed emotions.  Oh, don’t get me wrong–I am not grieving the death of Osama bin Laden.  As a born and raised New Yorker who has lived for the last 20 years in Washington, D.C., two places that came under attack by Mr. bin Laden’s minions, I still have a lot of strong feelings about the devastation he wreaked on the places I call home.  I remember September 2001 very well.  Going into Afghanistan and seeking out those who had wrought this terrible mass murder was something I was completely behind.

No, I do not mourn him.  He was an apostle of a vengeful, hateful ideology that traded innocent blood for political points. But there is something that I do mourn: the loss of our soul as a people.

In our national mythology, we consider our involvement in the Second World War to be of the noblest order.  When the forces of tyranny sought to dominate the free peoples of the world, we rose to the occasion and unleashed the “arsenal of democracy” in the defense of human freedom.  When the war ended, there were mass celebrations in the streets (we’ve all seen the iconic pictures).  But there is something important to note.  As soon as the war ended, we began the task of rebuilding our former enemies, reaching out in care and compassion to a vanquished foe.  The reconstruction of Germany and Japan after the war was among the noblest, and dare I say it, most Christian, things we as a nation have done.  It is a tough thing to love one’s enemy in war-time (some argue it is impossible), but to respond with love and forgiveness after the shooting has stopped marked a great chapter in world history.  The enduring democracies in Germany and Japan have much to owe to this approach.  For, it is an approach in love.  It is what just war theorists would refer to as waging a war with the interests of peace as the result.

I remember how angry I felt in the days after September 11th when our television screens would show from time to time images of various peoples in the Middle East celebrating the attacks on the towers.  Revulsion.  Horror. Disgust.  What kind of people celebrate this kind of atrocity?  I sincerely hope it’s not us.  I don’t want pictures of American crowds celebrating the death of a terrorist to inspire the same revulsion and disgust among others.

Is the celebration around bin Laden’s death understandable?  Of course it is.  He is the mastermind of our national sorrow.  His name is forever linked to the graves of more than three thousand Americans. It would be surprising if there were not a celebration. But is our jubilation a good idea?  I am not sure.  Does it help us to demonize the other?  Does it contribute to an attitude where we no longer care about the welfare of those who would style themselves our enemies?  Does it leave us less able to respond in compassion when the shooting stops and to rebuild a troubled world?  Do the joyful celebrations too easily make light of the enormous sacrifice made so many over the last few years: those who lost their lives on that fateful day, those who stand on the front lines in defense of the nation, those who mourn our thousands of war dead?

I don’t have any easy answers.  As I wrote in a sermon some years ago, reflecting on Jesus’ commandments to forgive, I know that my Christian faith often calls me to places I am not comfortable going, and often unwilling to go.  And yet, I know that Christ’s way is the better way.  As I sit here in my office and hear the jubilant cries outside my window of those celebrating a mass murderer’s death, I can understand the emotion. I understand it very well.  But I look up at the portrait of the Crucified One on my wall, and see his head hanging in sorrow, and wonder what costs these shouts of victory will have upon the soul of our people.

Mark Schaefer
United Methodist Chaplain

The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author alone and are not necessarily the opinions of the AU United Methodist Community or The United Methodist Church.

This past weekend, the leadership of the United Methodist Student Association went on retreat to reflect on the ministries of the community, our programming and our vision.  Challenged to come up with a vision statement that would articulate our deepest aspirations for our campus ministry community.  Here is the statement the students came up with:

Grounded in Christian love, the American University United Methodist Protestant Community will be a diverse community, fully engaged with the campus, city and world, that will serve as a beacon to all who seek to grow in faith, to serve as leaders for the transformation of the world, and to find a space in which all are truly made welcome.

But when we look at the Biblical sources we discover another kind of witness.  A more meaningful kind of witness.

In our recent sermon series, we’ve explored three of the ways in which we share our faith: words, relationships, and actions. We use words to share our faith, but not to berate people, but to share our story.  That same story that is enshrined in the pages of scripture is a story we are a part of, a story we can pass along.  We share faith in our relationships, not by using our friendships to gain converts, but by using our relationships to live out the love and grace of God that we have known.  And finally, we use actions to demonstrate in concrete, material ways the faith we know on our hearts.

We invite you to read this sermon series and to reflect on all the ways that we can share the faith we have, in love and in grace, with all whom we meet.

God, how I hate the way they portray my faith.  How I rage against their narrow-mindedness, their intolerance, their limited vision.  How they embarrass me and blaspheme the church.  How I see them pervert and misquote Scripture.  How they demean and blaspheme God, reducing God to a petty, hateful bigot—remaking God in their own image instead of the other way around.  Would that I had the ability of Elijah to rain down fire and brimstone from heaven on that abominable fellowship, preventing them once and for all from twisting any more hearts with hate and bile.

Well, I am human, after all.  I will feel what I feel.  Little can be done about that, I suppose.  Emotions cannot be chosen. That is an all too often experienced fact of our existence. We cannot choose what we feel.  We can, however, choose how we will act.

Often overlooked in our religious conversation is the fact that love is not an emotion.  Love is a behavior.  It is a way of living.  That’s a good thing—meaning that it is not outside the realm of our choosing.  We can, in spite of how we might feel, choose to love.  Somewhere deep down in my animal nature, I am not happy about that.  But my higher nature calls me to something else.  That much tarnished image of God with which I was made still has enough luster now and then to remind me of what I am called to do.

And so, I’ll love.  It won’t be easy, but the Gospel rarely is.  When the WBC shows up on campus (technically, on the sidewalk just off campus), I want to respond with love. Not by shouting slogans.  Not by throwing things or hurling insults.  But, maybe by bringing them some hot chocolate.  Maybe offer them some donuts.  Sing them some old hymns.  Pray for them.  Really, really pray for them.

Hate begets hate and anger begets anger.  And from my observation that system has not served the world well.  Let hate beget love; let charity be born in us, if it will not be given to us by those who hate.  Let love win the day.  It was martyred archbishop Oscar Romero who said it best:

Let us not tire of preaching love,
it is the force that will overcome the world.
Let us not tire of preaching love.
Though we see that waves of violence
succeed in drowning the fire of Christian love,
love must win out; it is the only thing that can.

Rev. Mark Schaefer
United Methodist Chaplain
American University

The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author alone and are not necessarily the opinions of the AU United Methodist Community or The United Methodist Church.

Click here to read about our community’s response to Westboro’s visit.

The lectionary reading for Christmas Day is not the nativity stories of Matthew and Luke. There is no reading of censuses and inns, of angels and shepherds, of wise men and a star. Instead, the reading for Christmas Day is from the first chapter of the Gospel of John, a hymn to the Eternal Word of God.

It seems an odd thing to those of us used to the traditional trappings of the Christmas narrative. We all know what a Nativity scene looks like. We know who the usual participants are. And while a younger member of the Sunday school will often be asked to play the Baby Jesus in the Christmas pageant, rarely is anyone cast as the Incarnate Word.

And yet, it is the Incarnation that is at the heart of Christmas. For all the carols, for all the Christmas cards, all the images we are accustomed to associating with this holiday, at the heart of it is not a baby in manger, but a mystery. The Word of God—God’s own self revelation, the Word with which God spoke all creation into being, the Word that came to the prophets and prompted them to speak for justice and righteousness, the Word that is God’s own Mind and Reason—became one of us. Lived with us. In John’s gospel, the verb usually translated as “dwelled” actually means “set up a tent” among us.

The message of Christmas–and of Christianity–is that in the midst of our sorrows, our suffering, our brokenness, God should dwell with us, in our midst. To know our joys and our sorrows. To know the brokennesses of our lives. To even experience our death—and to be raised to our resurrection. God puts up a tent among us and sets up camp as one of us.

Christmas is about the Word becoming Flesh and dwelling in our midst. Of the radical declaration of the Eternal God’s solidarity with mortal humanity: and all the implications and consequences that that solidarity has for us. The Word becoming Flesh means that our lives have meaning. Our puny, mortal existences, that fly past in the blink of an eye, that are statistically irrelevant in the cosmic span of time, are nevertheless embraced and affirmed by the Eternal God.

The old Latin Christmas chant sums it up perfectly: “O magnum mysterium… O great mystery and wonderful sacrament, that animals should see the new born Lord lying in a manger… ” The great mystery and power of our faith is in this radical, and surprising declaration of God’s solidarity with us.

It is a profound mystery, more beautiful than any carol, more moving than any holiday movie, or greeting card sentiment. A mystery at the heart of our faith that emboldens us to declare radical solidarity with one another, as God declares with us. Giving dignity to even the most rejected, the most marginalized. Sharing love, mercy, and compassion. Giving a voice to those who have none. Living lives of hope in the midst of a fearful world. These things we do because we know that our lives have meaning, the goodness of our existence is affirmed by the Lord of all Creation. By showing this love and solidarity to the world, we proclaim our faith in the one who comes to us at Christmas. The one of whom we sing in the old Charles Wesley carol, even as we wonder at the mystery:

Veiled in flesh, the Godhead see;
Hail th’incarnate Deity,
Pleased as man with men to dwell,
Jesus, our Emmanuel.
Hark! the herald angels sing,
Glory to the newborn king!

May the Love and the Joy of the Emmanuel, God-with-us, fill you this Christmas and always. Merry Christmas.

Rev. Mark A. Schaefer
United Methodist Chaplain

Antiphon & Verse 1

O EMMANUEL, our King and Lawgiver, the Expected of the nations and their Savior: Come and save us, O Lord, our God.
O come, O come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel, that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appear.

In Isaiah 7, the prophet gives to King Ahaz of Judah a sign: “Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel. … For before the child knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good, the land before whose two kings you are in dread will be deserted.”  The promise to King Ahaz is that though he is afraid of the armies of Israel and Syria, by the time that the child a young woman is carrying will be old enough to know right from wrong, those two kingdoms will be deserted.  Indeed, it would not be long before the Assyrian Empire destroyed both Syria and the Northern Kingdom of Israel.  And while that wouldn’t end Judah’s problems—the Assyrians would come calling at their doorstep next—Judah would get an important reminder: immanu-El, God is with us.

That is a lesson that would stay with the people of Judah not only during that Syro-Ephraim war, but a century and a half later during the midst of the Babylonian Exile.  Rather than conclude that God had abandoned them and that the Babylonian deity must be stronger, they understood that even in the midst of exile, in the midst of their captivity, God was with them.

And so it was that the early Christians saw this verse of Isaiah’s prophecy about an 8th Century BC war as a verse having something to do with Jesus.  For in Jesus they saw God present with them—Immanuel.  And so it is we sing for the God-with-us to ransom ‘captive Israel’ mourning in lonely exile—a reminder that just as God was present with Judah in its Exile and delivered them from captivity, so God can is present with us in our times of exile and able to deliver us, too.

Antiphon & Verse 2

O WISDOM, who came forth from the mouth of the Most High, reaching from end to end, and ordering all things mightily and sweetly: Come, and teach us the way of prudence.
O come, thou Wisdom from on high, and order all things far and nigh; to us the path of knowledge show and cause us in her ways to go.

Wisdom is a much discussed element of Jewish thought, but it is especially prominent in the Book of Proverbs, in chapter 8 of which, Wisdom itself is personified (and female) and speaks:

“I, wisdom, live with prudence, and I attain knowledge and discretion. … I walk in the way of righteousness, along the paths of justice, endowing with wealth those who love me, and filling their treasuries. The LORD created me at the beginning of his work, the first of his acts of long ago. Ages ago I was set up, at the first, before the beginning of the earth.” (Proverbs 8:12–24 NRSV)

The wisdom spoken of is not simply the quality of being wise, it is the creative power and mind of God, created at the beginning of Creation before anything else.  Christians understand this Wisdom to be synonymous with the Word of God, the Word which God spoke at Creation calling into being all that is, the Word that became flesh and dwelled among us (John 1:14). The great cathedral in Constantinople/Istanbul—as well as the Greek Orthodox cathedral in Washington, D.C.—is named Hagia Sophia, meaning “Holy Wisdom”.  And so it is that we sing “O come, thou wisdom from on high, and order all things far and nigh.”

Antiphon & Verse 3

O ADONAI and Leader of the house of Israel, who appeared to Moses in flames of the bush and gave him the law on Sinai: Come, and with your outstretched arm redeem us.
O come, O come, great Lord of might, who to thy tribes on Sinai’s height in ancient times once gave the law, in cloud and majesty and awe.

The name of God in the Hebrew tradition is written with the Hebrew letters yod-he-vav-he, usually rendered in English as YHWH.  By the time of Jesus, the name had become considered too sacred to pronounce (it’s why the vowels are never included).  Instead, pious Jews began to pronounce the word “Adonai” meaning “My Lord” whenever the name of God appeared in the text.  In fact, in an English Bible, whenever you see the word “LORD” in small caps written, the Hebrew name יהוה is what lies underneath.

But “Lord” is also a title of sovereign majesty and evokes power and deliverance, particularly that of the Exodus.  The antiphon draws upon that Exodus imagery, particularly the power of God as deliverer: “Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the LORD your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm…” (Deuteronomy 5:15 NRSV). From the earliest days of Christianity, remembrance of the deliverance of the Exodus was central in Christian understandings of salvation through Christ’s death and resurrection.  And so it is that we sing: “O come, great Lord of might, who to thy tribes on Sinai’s height in ancient times once gave the law, in cloud and majesty and awe.”

Antiphon & Verse 4

O ROOT OF JESSE, who stands for an ensign of the people, before whom kings shall keep silence and to whom the Gentiles shall make their supplication: Come, and deliver us and tarry not.
O come, thou Root of Jesse’s tree, an ensign of thy people be; before thee rulers silent fall; all peoples on they mercy call.

Isaiah of Jerusalem, the author of most of the book of Isaiah, was a staunch supporter of the monarchy and a believer in God’s covenant with David.  He believed that God had covenanted to establish David and his line forever over the throne of Judah and that God would protect Jerusalem, God’s capital, from all harm.  With this belief in mind, Isaiah would use very flowery language to describe the coronation of King Hezekiah (the one for whom the “for unto us a child is born” language from chapter 9′s coronation hymn is probably directed).  But later in his life, Isaiah began to despair that the kings of Judah would rise to the challenges facing the nation.  Isaiah began to project his hopes into the future, toward a day when God would raise up a new king, a king like David, who would deliver the people and before whom the nations would bow.  For this purpose, he used the metaphor of a shoot that arises out of a stump (the current state of the Judahite monarchy, cut off from its former greatness):

“A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots. The spirit of the LORD shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the LORD. His delight shall be in the fear of the LORD.”  (Isaiah 11:1–3 NRSV)

With these verses, the Messianic tradition is born: the hopes for an anointed king, growing up out of a kingly line (Jesse being the father of David, Israel’s most glorious king) that had once known greatness, but had lost it.  Later in the chapter, he continues:

“On that day the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples; the nations shall inquire of him, and his dwelling shall be glorious. … He will raise a signal for the nations, and will assemble the outcasts of Israel, and gather the dispersed of Judah from the four corners of the earth.” (Isaiah 11:10, 12 NRSV)

This king, a descendant of David, son of Jesse, who will be a signal to the people, who will gather the exiles back from around the earth, who will command respect and power among the leaders of the nations.  A very old messianic ideal.  And the reason we sing: “O come, thou Root of Jesse’s tree, an ensign of thy people be….”

Antiphon & Verse 5

O KEY OF DAVID and Scepter of the house of Israel, who opens and no one shuts, who shuts and no one opens: Come, and bring forth from prison the captive who sits in darkness and in the shadow of death.
O come, thou Key of David, come, and open wide our heavenly home. The captives from their prison free, and conquer death’s deep misery.

In the 22nd chapter of Isaiah, the prophet announces an oracle concerning Elikiam, son of Hilkiah:

“I will place on his shoulder the key of the house of David; he shall open, and no one shall shut; he shall shut, and no one shall open.” (Isaiah 22:22 NRSV)

A sign of power, the “Key of the house of David” represents authority and might.  It was another early identification with Jesus made by the early church, most visibly in the Book of Revelation:

And to the angel of the church in Philadelphia write: These are the words of the holy one, the true one, who has the key of David, who opens and no one will shut, who shuts and no one opens:  “I know your works. Look, I have set before you an open door, which no one is able to shut. I know that you have but little power, and yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name.” (Revelation 3:7–8 NRSV)

The Key of David then becomes a sign of the authority of Christ and the power that Christ gives to the persecuted church, opening a door to salvation and victory in the midst of their persecutions and sufferings.  The church has but “little power” and yet Christ has opened a door for them that “no one is able to shut”.  A messianic office, a title of power, and a promise of deliverance for those who suffer, but endure faithfully and patiently.  ”O come, thou Key of David, come, and open wide our heavenly home.”

Antiphon and Verse 6

O DAYSPRING, Brightness of the light eternal and Sun of justice: Come, and enlighten those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.
O come, thou Dayspring, come and cheer our spirits by thy justice here; disperse the gloomy clouds of night, and death’s dark shadows put to flight.

In Luke’s telling of the Gospel, Zechariah and Elizabeth give birth in their old age to a baby who will grow up to be John the Baptist.  At the child’s naming, Zechariah, who had been stricken speechless, becomes filled with the Holy Spirit and begins to prophesy about his newborn child:

“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them. … And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins. By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” (Luke 1:68, 77–80 NRSV)

In the King James translation, “dawn” from on high is rendered as “dayspring”, the rising of the sun that gives light to those who sit in darkness.  This parallels the sentiment found in John’s Gospel:

“I have come as light into the world, so that everyone who believes in me should not remain in the darkness.” (John 12:46 NRSV)

Of course, because we read the Gospel story backwards and forwards, we know that the story ends with the dawn, the Resurrection early on that Easter morning, when the rising of the Son signals that death itself has been conquered.  The darkness of death is conquered by the brightness of the dawn.  It is this dawn, this dayspring, whom we plead to “disperse the gloomy clouds of night, and death’s dark shadows put to flight.”

Antiphon and Verse 7

O KING OF THE GENTILES and their Desired One, Cornerstone that makes both one: Come, and deliver us whom you formed out of the dust of the earth.
O come, Desire of nations bind all peoples in one heart and mind.  From dust thou brought us forth to life; deliver us from earthly strife.

Another echo of the salvation history, this time reaching back to the Creation and the formation of humanity in the second creation story, found in Genesis 2: “then the LORD God formed man from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being.” (Genesis 2:7 NRSV)

In the Book of Haggai 2:7 we read:

“And I will shake all nations, and the desire of all nations shall come: and I will fill this house with glory, saith the LORD of hosts.” (Haggai 2:7 KJV)

In the New Revised Standard Version, the word hemdah, which is translated in the KJV as ‘desire’, is rendered ‘treasure’.  That is, this is an oracle speaking of how the treasure of the nations shall be brought to Jerusalem, a reversal of the plunder that so many empires and conquerors have wrought.

The Christian tradition has long seen itself as a universalist tradition–a vision of hope for all peoples, a reflection of the Jewish belief that God is the God of all the nations.  Throughout the prophetic books of the Old Testament, we see visions of reconciliation for all peoples, and an eventual union of all peoples under God’s reign.  And so, here we have an affirmation of our common humanity, our common mortality, and our common creation at the hands of God. And thus we sing of the true treasure of the nations, the coming One who brings peace and unity to all the world: “O come, Desire of nations bind all peoples in one heart and mind.”

Refrain

This entire carol with its antiphons evokes a number of different strains of the salvation history: creation, exodus, kingdom, and exile.  But remembrance is not simply about recalling the past.  It is about remembering the future to which the past points.  And it is because of that that each verse, drawing upon the history of the people’s experience of God, is able to conclude triumphantly:

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.

Let us leave aside for the moment the fact that “Happy Holidays” is a greeting that has been around for decades, and is usually assumed to be shorthand for “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year”. Let us also leave aside for the time being the fact that prior to December 25th, no one should be wishing anyone a “Merry Christmas”—(it’s still Advent). Let us skip for now the fact that a couple of years ago, many of the largest mega-churches did not have services on Christmas Day, in spite of the fact that it was a Sunday (Sunday happens to be the most important day of the Christian calendar) to little or no criticism from the loudest voices objecting to the “War.” The greater issue is that if there is actually a War on Christmas, it was lost decades ago.

It has long ceased to be the holiday of the Church and has become the holiday of American retail business. Those who are shouting the most about this War on Christmas are themselves proving the point. For in their objection to retailers’ use of “Happy Holidays” and “Season’s Greetings” they are conceding the point that such retail chains have anything to do with Christmas.

According to the Church, Christmas is a twelve-day holiday commencing on the twenty-fifth of December and ending on the sixth day of January, on the Feast of the Epiphany. According to Macy’s, Christmas begins at noon on the Friday after Thanksgiving when Santa Claus rides through Herald Square and declares the start of the Christmas season. Which interpretation is the dominant one in our culture?

If there was a War on Christmas, it was won so decisively and so completely that nary a single shot was fired back. The business world has defined the holiday. Now, when people talk about Christmas, they do it on the terms that the retailers have set. By worrying about how retailers are greeting patrons, critics of the practice have unwittingly bought into the idea that Christmas is a retail holiday. It should not matter how some employee at Wal-Mart or Target greets me at the door. They could wish me a Peaceful Solstice and it would have no effect on my Christian faith. Because even if they were to wish me a Merry Christmas, they would not necessarily be referring to the holiday that I treasure.

The Christmas I know is a time of family, it is a time of peace, and most importantly, it is a time to celebrate the awesome mystery of the Incarnation of the Eternal Word of God. The mystery of the Son of God coming in human form as a child born to working-class parents in a backwater region of an ancient Empire. It is about the coming of God into our midst in our flesh, to live our life, to die our death, and to be raised to our resurrection. That mystery of love and grace has absolutely nothing to do with the mad dash to trample people in order to buy a PlayStation 3. The incarnation—the radical demonstration of solidarity by the Eternal God with mortal humanity—is completely unrelated to the purchasing of a Lexus and wrapping it in a giant bow in the driveway.

Christians believe that Christ came into our midst at Christmas to demonstrate God’s grace, that God loves us without regard to our merit, without condition. The modern Christmas seems to be about demonstrating love through the provision of material goods: “Show her you love her with a diamond this Christmas.”

I don’t care if they wish me Merry Christmas at the mall, and in some ways, I don’t want them to—they’re just cheapening the holiday by associating this miracle with rampant consumerism and the accumulation of material goods.

In my daydreams, I imagine negotiating a new treaty in this conflict. I imagine new terms: Retailers can have Yule and Christians will have Christmas. Yule can start on the day after Thanksgiving, its songs can play on the radio until December 25th, people can go crazy buying Yule presents, and the decorations can come down January 2nd. Christmas will start on December 25th, and it will be celebrated in the churches and at home, in ways where love is not measured by how many presents have been given or received. While Yuletide celebrants can be about the business of acquiring and trading valuable consumer goods, Christians can be about the business of taking care of the poor and the needy who suffer the most during the cold winter months.

Perhaps then we wouldn’t worry about what retailers wished us, or what cities called their decorated trees, because we would understand the difference between the Christian holiday of Christmas and the commercial onslaught that is the Yule, the Christmas we are familiar with.

It’s a dream of course. There’s an awful lot of money at stake in preserving the status quo. But Christmas is also a time of dreams, too—when Joseph dreamed of a child sent from God, when people dream of peace—so I will continue to dream that Christmas may be restored from its defeat. That once again a holiday of grace and peace, of love and charity may take its place among us. That will not happen by berating retailers. It will happen when Christians decide to reclaim their holiday as one that belongs to them. So, while others may dream of a White Christmas, I will continue to dream of a Christian Christmas.

Rev. Mark Schaefer
United Methodist Chaplain
American University

The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author alone and are not necessarily the opinions of the AU United Methodist Community or The United Methodist Church.