First Congregational Church
December 28, 2013 First Sunday of Christmas Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching The birth of Jesus was celebrated by music: “And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.” (Luke 2:13-14). Christians of the first century continued the tradition of the angels. Historical records from as early as 129 AD document songs written specifically for Christmas celebrations. However, they were primarily written in Latin, and were not called Carols, but hymns. The French word, carole, meaning circle dance, or song of praise and joy, did not originate with Christianity, but with the pagan celebration of winter. It is interesting that the favorite "Joy to the World" doesn't make a mention of Christmas, or Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Bethlehem, or the star. Even so, it is a good "carol" and it fits with the idea of a Celebration in Song. So let us stand and sing.... "The First Noel" #270 We easily associate candles with the Celebration of Christmas, but handheld light has a greater history. Long before the 1553 of "Bring a Torch," torches, or candles, of ancient Hanukkah's Festival of Lights played an important part in Christmas celebrations in Provence and southern Europe. When "Bring a Torch" came along, it was originally written not for Christmas but as French dance music. When words were added to the melody, they told the story of two milkmaids, Jeanette and Isabella, who went to milk their cows in a manger in Bethlehem, only to find the baby Jesus sleeping in the hay. The two girls ran to town to tell the village of the coming of Christ, and the townspeople came with their own torches to view the sight for themselves. However, they had to keep their voices down so little Jesus could enjoy his dreams. To this day in the Provence region, children dress up as shepherds and milkmaids, carrying torches and candles to church on Christmas Eve while singing the carol.” "I Am So Glad Each Christmas Eve," when sung in Danish, Norwegian or Swedish, takes on the love and popularity of "Away In a Manger" for Scandinavians. Part of the reason for becoming so beloved is because it is short and easy for children to memorize. Prior to the last half of 19th century northern Europe, children were allowed to read only for the purposes of education and moral examples. Marie Wexelsen, being born at the right time, was able to help in the expansion of education - to include boys and girls in receiving general education as well as the ability to read (and sing) for amusement as well as learning. So let us sing with a lilt, first number 19 and then number 62 in the spiral books. "Bring a Torch" S 19 "I Am So Glad Each Christmas Eve S 62 As you get ready number 89 in the spiral book, I encourage you to get #261 in the red hymnal ready to follow. Mystery plays were religious dramas that provided sacred entertainment, since attending pagan dramas was forbidden, and they provided opportunities for religious education. The religious dramas were also performed in the language of the people, rather than church Latin and allowed for instruments, which were not allowed in churches. "Joseph Dearest, Joseph Mine" has been traced back to the mystery plays in 16th century Leipzig, Germany. There is an intimacy in this song not found in all carols, and this one allows us to come in and be right there, right with Mary and Joseph and the baby Jesus. While we're at the manger, it wouldn't be right to leave before singing "Away In the Manger." No Christmas song is more loved than this tender children's carol. With its simply worded expression of love for the Lord Jesus and trust in His faithful care, the hymn appeals to young and old alike. Like the song "Jesus Loves Me," we generally learn "Away In a Manger" as young children, and it tends to stay with us through our adult lives. It is the musical rendering of Luke 2:7. “She gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped Him in cloths and placed Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.” (Luke 2:7 NIV) Let us go to the stable and sing "Joseph Dearest", ladies singing the first verse, men singing the second and everyone on the refrain, and then "Away in a Manger." "Joseph Dearest, Joseph Mine" S 89 "Away in a Manger" #261 "Love Came Down at Christmas" was written about the same time as the previous two hymn carols. While we don't know much about the real composer of "Away In a Manger", we know a fair bit about Christina Georgina Rossetti, the composer of "Love Came Down at Christmas. She came from a family steeped in the arts. She was a sickly child, so her deep faith is thought to be partially due to the solace she found in writing. Her father, Gabriele, was a professor of Italian at King’s College, and brothers Dante and William developed the 19th century art movement, the pre-Raphaelite era. Oh, and a family friend was Lewis Carroll, author of "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland." The beauty of this little carol hymn is that it is a personification of "love," that word being mentioned 12 times in three short stanzas. "There's a Song in the Air" is the first home-grown hymn-carol sung today. Both Josiah Holland and Karl Harrington were New England boys. Although word-writer Holland dropped out of high school for poor health, he went on to get a medical degree before giving up his practice to become the owner and editor of a newspaper. As the poem's popularity grew, being published in his own newspaper, three noted composers took note and wrote their own melodies for it. It was the version that Karl Harrington wrote while on vacation that became the one we will sing after number 102 in the spiral book. "Love Came Down at Christmas" S 102 "There's a Song in the Air" S 160 Again, you may want to ready number 128 in the spiral book and #258 in the red hymnal. Isaiah wrote - some 700 years before Jesus' birth - a prophecy that we consider to have been fulfilled with the birth of Christ. "Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you. See, darkness covers the earth and thick darkness is over the peoples, but the Lord rises upon you and His glory appears over you. (Isaiah 60:1–2) When we get to the first of the next two hymn-carols, it may take a moment to realize the seeming "mistake". The people who followed the star to Jesus weren’t the shepherds, they were the wise men. The shepherds were told about Jesus’ birth by the angels and went to Bethlehem to see him. But in “Rise Up, Shepherd, and Follow” we get an amalgamation of those two stories. There is no mistake, however. The wise men were thought to be wealthy kings or magicians from far-off lands, bringing lavish, expensive gifts to welcome Christ. These were not people to whom slaves could relate. There are a few Christmas songs that come in the form of a spiritual. Spirituals were means of teaching the story of Christmas, along with secret communications oblivious to slave owners. If the wise men were on one end of the social spectrum, the shepherds would have been on the extreme other end. There were few occupations more demanding or degrading than a shepherd. Because of their nomadic lifestyle, they were considered religious and social outcasts who were looked upon with suspicion. Slaves could relate to being outcasts, to being looked upon with suspicion. In the shepherds, they found a kindred spirit, another group of people without a home. So, in “Rise Up, Shepherd, and Follow,” by replacing the kingly travelers with people of no status, the slaves were subtly creating a revolution in status for themselves. "Go, Tell It On the Mountain" doesn't have a composer, but a compiler. That's because like many African American songs, it was handed down orally, from plantation to plantation. John Work recorded it and was finally able to put it to paper . As we began our service by joining the singing of the angels, so shall we end it, first with "Rise Up" and lastly with "Go, Tell It." Let us stand and sing. "Rise Up, Shepherd, and Follow" S 128 "Go, Tell It on the Mountain" #258 First Congregational Church
December 24, 2013 Christmas Eve Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching Congratulations! You’re here! No more gift wrapping, food preparation, or miles to go – at least in the next hour or so. So snuggle in, because it’s time to be still – that the Holy Spirit can wash over you. Over the years, the attempt has been to keep large parts of this service the same – not because it is easy or time efficient, but we can find welcome and comfort in tradition and the familiar. Sometimes a word or a song will take us back to a time that was important and/or meaningful. Other times we know that we are in the midst of a memory in the making. Not that this is about me, but the part that makes it Christmas for me, is when the scriptures have been read, the carols have been sung, and the candles are all lit as we are singing “Silent Night”. None of you are more holy than you are at that moment. For that time during those three verses, it’s as if everything comes together. There is a sentence in the book of John, just after the first of the scripture readings tonight. It says “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has never put it out.” (Jn 1:5) Since human beings have existed, light and darkness have held symbolic and religious meanings. Perhaps it grew out of that dim era, when our ancient ancestors began to learn to use and control fire, and found instead of huddling all night in the cold and the dark, a small fire offered a source of warmth and light, of comfort and security. These days we light candles for a number of reasons: romance, ambiance, power outages. In the weeks approaching Christmas we light special candles because they speak to us the hope that springs eternal in the human heart. They remind us of a dark time, in a desolate country, how the birth of Jesus Christ signaled for all peoples the eternal hope of the eventual triumph of good, whatever the current state of human history. Light was the first of God’s creations. Jesus said “I am the light of the world.” Light shines in the darkness, not over against the darkness, or from above. A light shining out of the darkness, this is a new thing. Then Jesus told us, “You are the light of the world.” (Mt 5 14) This is the night we celebrate the source of the light. The light comes through us, not from us. Not all the darkness in the world can extinguish the smallest flame. We celebrate the light that has come into the world, and we take it with us - to bring comfort and hope - to those we love and everyone else. So let us continue with this Spirit-washing, memory-making, comfort-bringing, celebrate of the birth of Emmanuel: God with us. First Congregational Church
December 22, 2013 Fourth Sunday in Advent, Christmas Season Sunday Isaiah 61:1-3, Philippians 4:4-9, Luke 1:39-56 "A Christmas Story" Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching Philippians 4:4-9 4 Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! 5 Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. 6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. 8 Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. 9 Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you. - Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving. It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas. We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible. After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible; instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though; I was too busy wallowing in self-pity. Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told hem to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what. Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high sideboards on. After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood---the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all Fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked, "what are you doing?" You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I'd been by, but so what? "Yeah," I said, "Why?" "I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand. "What's in the little sack?" I asked. "Shoes. They're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunnysacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy." We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern. We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, and then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?" "Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt. Could we come in for a bit?" Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp. "We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children---sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out. "We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said. He turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak. My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before, filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people. I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us." In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it. Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes. Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine. At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away. Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, "'May the Lord bless you,' I know for certain that He will." Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that. But on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunnysacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, "I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand." I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children. For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night; he had given me the best Christmas of my life. Let us pray. Loving God, we are grateful for this season of waiting to celebrate again the birth of your Son. As we continue to wait, help us to look for all those ways we can "wait" more fully - to be your angels on earth where you need us. Help us to trust that when things don't go our way, that you have a greater plan. Lead us to do what is needful, and to let go of what is not crucial. Shine your light on us, Bright Star of Bethlehem, that we may walk in your light. And all your people say, Amen. First Congregational Church December 15, 2013 Third Sunday in Advent John 17:20-26 "Star of Unity" Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching There's a little video running around on the internet about an airline called WestJet. As guests were waiting at their gate for two particular flights, there was an interactive video where Santa was talking to the guests about what they wanted for Christmas. While the flights were in the air, a bunch of the employees from WestJet ran out to purchase those Christmas wishes, brought them back to the terminal, wrapped and labeled them, and sent them down the baggage carousel. The guests were gifted with everything from socks and underwear to flight vouchers and even a large screen tv. The brilliant part of the video was that while the focus was obviously on the gifting, especially as it was the night before Christmas, they also lifted up the fact that it took working together to make it happen. I don't think we think about it that way, but anything that we do around here is a great display of our unity: from moving a mountain of shoeboxes from one level to another to hosting a little hot dog sale on the front lawn, to the decorating of an entire church for Christmas. When we undertake such endeavors, we are living out the prayer that Jesus prayed that last night in the Garden. He had been praying for the disciples, but in the passage for today, he prays for us. John 17:20-26 20 “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, 21 that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. 22 I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one— 23 I in them and you in me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. 24 “Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world. 25 “Righteous Father, though the world does not know you, I know you, and they know that you have sent me. 26 I have made you known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them.” Thank you, Ann. If we had been there that night, I wonder if any of us would have been able to take in the surroundings. Was there a whisper of a breeze or a good wind? Were there crickets singing? We do know that it was a full moon, because he was crucified the day after the Passover, and Passover is to be celebrated during the full moon of the current season. But were there clouds? Could the stars be seen? Did the Star of Unity, the Star of Bethlehem, the Star of Hope and Creation shine down on Jesus and the sleeping disciples? Since stars live millions of years, the same stars that shined on them shine on us. Now let’s see here. [Rummaging through the box] What a mess! (Hold up the twisted lights.) Every year I tell myself that when I put the decorations away after the New Year, I am going to organize them and mark all the boxes. But what I end up doing is just throwing it all in a box and I figure that I can figure it all out in December. Grandmother, you would NOT be happy. If I could just find an end.... No, Grandmother, you would not be happy with me and this mess! You were always such an organized person. You seemed to have everything together. Everything planned. Everything figured out. “A place for everything and everything in its place.” That’s what you liked to say. I wish I was a little bit more like you. What a mess! Pause You went through a lot in your life, yet you kept it all together somehow. Grandfather served in Korea … and had to leave you all alone with Father as an infant. Then Father went off to Viet Nam … and you prayed and prayed and prayed … that God would keep him safe. And cousin Bobby, he went off to Iraq … I’m not sure he’ll ever be the same. Great men. They served their country well. But it’s hard on families, all this war and hatred. A mixed up world, that’s what it is. Pause And there was other stuff too. Divorces in the family. The layoffs at the plant. Kacey and her problems. Yet you kept us all unified through it all. You kept us laughing and loving and caring for one another. In spite of this mixed up, messed up and broken world, you did your best to keep us all together. (Frustrated at the knots.) Shoot. It’s a mixed-up and messed-up world. ... I’d better get something to clean this up…Exit. Thank you, Andy. Part of the reason that the stable scene in Bethlehem has such appeal is because it helps us to set aside the mixed-up and messed-up world in which we live. Granted, it was probably mixed-up and messed-up for Mary and Joseph. But compared to any of the number of things we can read in the newspaper or hear at the barber or beauty shop, a smelly dark stable may seem like a beautiful place. Whether there were clouds the night Jesus was born, regardless of the moon phase, keeping watch over everyone in the stable that night were the stars. The silent sentinels of the sky unite us with Jesus' death and birth and with all our ancestors before him. The birth that we await to celebrate restored the brokenness between us and God and it gives us a unity that we can't get any other way. We still live in a disjointed, divided and discordant world. But one of the great Christian authors, A. W. Tozer put it into a practical understanding of our unity. He said, “Has it ever occurred to you that one hundred pianos all tuned to the same fork are automatically tuned to each other? They are of one accord by being tuned, not to each other, but to another standard to which each one must individually bow. So one hundred worshippers meeting together, each one looking away to Christ, are in heart nearer to each other than they could possibly be were they to become “unity” conscious and turn their eyes away from God to strive for closer fellowship.” In that same mode, another great Christian writer, G.K. Chesterton once wrote, “We are all in t |