Grace be to you and peace from our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ. Amen.
I don’t think that God is into technology.
One of my continuing education days this year was spent at a workshop where we were introduced to some of the social media tools that might be useful in ministry. It was called Social Phonics Boot-camp. The host church, Grace United Church of Christ, had its basement fellowship hall filled with pastors who wanted to learn more about how Facebook and Twitter and Google and Yelp and blogging might be useful in our task of spreading the Good News of Jesus Christ in the 21st century.
I’ve been trying to apply some of what I learned that day. I now know that some of our younger members use Facebook’s messaging service more than they use e-mail. Some use Twitter. I have been invited to participate in LinkedIn. Just this week, my oldest son introduced me to Path.
Among my goals for this year has been to stay in contact with members of the congregation — especially those who are younger than I am — with whatever tools that they are using to stay in touch with the world. I post sermons on the web. I made a clumsy attempt to post Silent Night from the Choral Service onto YouTube (my first attempts at new technologies always leave something to be desired). I have been talking with Luke Kasten about helping me to post videos of each Sunday’s sermon to my website.
Even with as much as I think that I am trying to do. I feel left behind. The new pastor at my mother’s church has asked his flock to text him during the sermon. He must have a whole different preaching style than me. I don’t know how I could maintain any kind of flow in a sermon if I kept being interrupted by you-all texting me. I do like the idea of folks texting others from the worship service, though. If nothing else, to let others know what they are missing by not being here.
While there is a lot about the new technology that enhance relationships, there are also those uses that seem rude and are downright silly. When I give out my cell number, I usually tell people that I don’t answer when I am in a meeting or when I am visiting with someone. Really, I should go one step further and silence the thing so that it doesn’t intrude on those, more personal encounters. Recently I have noticed how folks go to their smartphones for a diversion when the company they are in are boring them.
More amusing, I think, is when folks text each other while seated in the same room (or across the table from each other). So, amusing, that even I do it from time-to-time. My son told me how he and his fiancé will text each other when one of them decide to excuse themselves from the company of other people. In the old days, Nan and I would need to give each other our secret “look.”
This morning we learn how God prefers a more “fleshy” way of being in communication with us. We call it the incarnation. The literal meaning of incarnation is embodied in flesh or taking on flesh. God doesn’t choose an electronic relationship with us. God doesn’t ask that we message him something about our experiences of birth and childhood; doesn’t ask that we post something about our adventure in adolescence. God doesn’t ask that we try to describe our hopes and our fears, our joys and our sorrows, our suffering and our healing by status updates on Facebook.
Because God has lived all of that. He was born into the most difficult of circumstances. He grew up in a country that was occupied by a foreign power. He learned a trade. He grew up in a family. He exasperated his parents. He sought out relationships. He knew the value of close friendships. But he also knew about betrayal. He knew pain. He suffered grief. He was traumatized by an agonizing death. Christmas is about the way in which God took our flesh onto himself in a way that is personal, in a way that is life-giving, and in a way that keeps our lives connected to the eternal presence of God.
Business people often need to decide whether they are going to do business by e-mail, or by teleconference or some, other electronic medium, or whether business needs to be done in-person. All of us, anymore need to decide whether we will be in relationship by one or more of these social media tools. Many times the tools enhance relationships. I am now in renewed relationships with about a dozen seminary classmates through Facebook that weren’t possible before — classmates from as far away as Alaska and Washington and Oklahoma and South Dakota. Other times, though, the tools lead to hurt and misunderstanding. Some things shouldn’t be e-mailed. Some things shouldn’t get posted on Facebook. They need to be resolved face-to-face. They need to be handled live and in-person.
On Christmas we rejoice at God’s coming to us in-person. Jesus didn’t arrive secretly. The angels were sent to announce this birth to the shepherds around Bethlehem. The star was placed to guide seekers from distant lands to the throne of the manger. Even those for whom this birth was a threat (King Herod — most notably), were given the news of God’s personal visit to the place of God’s own creation.
When explaining the benefits of Holy Communion, Martin Luther wrote of the importance of the words for you. He pulled those two, particular words out of the communion liturgy — the body of Christ given for you; the blood of Christ, shed for you — as the most important words of the liturgy. It is those two words — for you, along with the eating and drinking — which, Luther wrote in his Small Catechism, are the essential thing in the sacrament. For whoever believes these very words has what they declare and state, namely, “forgiveness of sin.” The same is true about Christmas. This is God’s gift to be in relationship — for you, for me, for us.
The writer of Titus calls it an “appearing.” It is the NRSV’s translation of the Greek word for an epiphany. Throughout the history of God’s relationship with God’s people, there have been many different epiphanies. God messaged us using a burning bush, and in the giving of the Ten Commandments, and through a variety of the prophets’ dreams. But this, Christmas appearing is qualitatively different. Now, God’s appearing is in-the-flesh. It is embodied. It is personal.
It is personal for a reason. The letter to Titus affirms that Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem is an appearing for the purpose of salvation. As we will be reminded again at Easter-time, Jesus’ arrival into our world isn’t a reward for those who have been nice instead of naughty. It is, instead, an God’s act of mercy on our behalf. It is an act of God’s grace, activated in baptism, so that we might be forgiven of our naughtiness and receive the best Christmas gift of all — an eternal seat in the heavenly presence of God.
On Friday I received an e-Christmas card from an acquaintance from my time in Green Bay. On one level, I was surprised to be remembered. On another level, though, that’s not really what I long for. Too much in life is impersonal. I want an appearing. I want a succession of appearings. I want to see my children in-the-flesh. I want to experience my mother and my in-laws and my siblings and my nieces and nephews in-the-flesh. To the extent that I am aware that such appearings aren’t always possible within the limitations of life on this earth, I am even more grateful for the appearing that this day celebrates — the appearance of a new-born babe to a young mother who gets placed in a make-shift cradle in a world that has no place for him.
I don’t have any clue how communication and relationship will evolve as technology continues to change the way we live our lives. I do know this, however: that in the course of history God chose to make a personal visit into the world of our human existence. I know that the appearance was in the form of one who was named Jesus and that he is the ultimate gift of Christmas. Amen.
Copyright © 2011 The Rev. Gary L. Froseth. All rights reserved.
