Distinguishing Between Disaster and Blessing
Sermon
Facing the Future with Hope
Cycle B Gospel Text Sermons for Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany
There is an old Taoist story about a wise man who lived on the northern frontier of China. One day, for no apparent reason, a young man's horse ran away and was taken by nomads across the border. Everyone tried to console the young man for his ill fortune, but his father, a wise man, said, "What makes you so sure this is not a blessing?"
Months later, his horse returned, bringing with her a magnificent stallion. This time everyone was full of congratulations for the son's good fortune. However, his father said, "What makes you so sure this isn't a disaster?" Their house was made richer by this fine horse, which his son loved to ride. One day he fell off the horse and broke his hip. Once again, everyone offered consolations for his bad luck, but his father said, "What makes you so sure this is not a blessing?"
A year later the nomads mounted an invasion across the border and every able-bodied man was required to take up his bow and go into battle. The Chinese frontiersmen lost nine of every ten men. Only because the son was lame did father and son survive to take care of each other. Truly, the story reminds us blessing turns to disaster and disaster to blessing.1
The Christmas story in the gospel of Luke could be viewed from one angle as a disaster but from another angle it seems to be a blessing. Using our imagination we can picture Joseph and his pregnant wife Mary starting out on their eighty-mile journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem. What a difficult trip it must have been. Once they arrived in Bethlehem they were to discover no lodging accommodations were available except for a stable in back of the inn or possibly underneath the house itself. Here they were alone, knowing not a single person, and their son is born in less than hygienic and comfortable surroundings.
The first people to greet them were not the dignitaries of the town but rough-looking, smelly shepherds from the hillside who claimed to have received word that the Messiah was to be born in Bethlehem that very night. In first-century Palestine the shepherds were considered to be on the lower level of the social scale. To be sure, Joseph and Mary might have recalled that King David had been a shepherd, but Luke probably includes them in this story because his purpose in writing his gospel is to show that God's good news in Jesus reached out in a special way to the poor, despised, and outcasts of society, even to lowly shepherds tending their sheep on lonely hilltops.
Everything seemed to have gone wrong for Joseph and Mary. Surely they might have thought of this night as a disaster.
From our own perspective of 2,000 years we interpret the birth of Jesus, though born in humble circumstances, not to be a disaster but a blessing. A Savior has been born, the long-awaited Messiah, the hope of Israel, the Lord. Hence the angelic host sang: "Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors" (Luke 2:14).
Likewise, the death of Jesus would be seen as a tragic disaster at first. When Charlemagne, king of the Franks during the Middle Ages, first heard the story of Jesus' arrest and execution, he exploded in rage. Seizing his sword, he shouted for all to hear, "Oh, if only I had been there; I would have slain them all with my legions!" We can appreciate the ardent faith of this follower of Jesus but we wonder what he could have done if he had been there. God was present at the cross but did not intervene. Jesus himself claimed he could have called on an army of angels but he did not ask for help either. Jesus had told his disciples earlier: "No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends" (John 15:13). God's way was not to display power but to disclose love, sacrificial love, and this has ever been the appeal of the good news. After the resurrection Jesus' followers understood his death not to be a disaster but the greatest blessing of all.2
Throughout history what at first was thought to be a disaster has in the end been called a blessing. Consider the American Revolution and George Washington's crucial role as the commanding General for the Patriot side. If we were to total up victories in the various battles of the war, Washington would be labeled a weak General at best. He lost most of the individual battles he fought. He almost lost his whole army in the engagement at New York, but it was his good fortune that a heavy fog rolled across the Brooklyn shore enabling his 9,000 men to escape the British troops in the nick of time. After that Washington had few victories except for surprise raids at Trenton and at Princeton. For the most part he skillfully retreated to avoid a direct confrontation with the larger and more experienced British soldiers. Washington was handicapped by a Continental Congress that did not provide adequate funds or soldiers for him to take the offensive. Later in the war he lost battles at Brandywine and Germantown. Finally, in 1781, six years into the war, Washington prevailed assisted by French troops and more importantly by the French fleet that blockaded the harbor at Yorktown, Virginia, so that Cornwallis and his British troops were trapped with no escape possible. Victory at Yorktown became the decisive battle of the war. Up to this point disaster seemed to be the verdict of the Patriot cause, but when all was over Washington's courage, patience, and strong leadership carried the day. Even in the dark days of the winter at Valley Forge, Washington's closest military advisors saw in their General something that would carry them through although odds seemed to be against them. Henry Knox confided in Washington: "The people of America look up to you as their father, and into your hands they entrust their all, fully confident of every exertion on your part for their security and happiness."3 It was that confidence and trust that in the course of time would turn disaster into blessing.
An episode in my own life has convinced me that I commonly do not know what is best for me. I had been serving a church as an interim pastor for three years when the search committee reported that it was ready to recommend a candidate to the congregation as pastor. I was told the candidate was "absolutely sure" he was ready to respond to the call and begin his pastoral duties.
About the same time all of this was happening I was contacted by another church to see if I would come to be their interim pastor. I really wanted to go to this church and I was happy to receive an invitation even though it was thought to be a brief interim period. Then disaster struck, at least it seemed that way to me. At the last minute the prospective candidate decided not to come. What was I to do? I had served in this current church for three years as the interim pastor. I was ready to accept a new assignment. My wife Arlene, who has always been my spiritual and moral compass, pointed me in the right direction. She convinced me that as much I wanted to make a move my first responsibility was to stay where I was and complete the task. One of the most difficult things I have had to do was to call the chair of the interim pastor search committee and tell him I could not come right then and why I could not come.
I stayed another six months until the church did call a candidate who agreed to come and to this day he has had a fruitful pastorate. My wife and I worshiped in a number of churches during the summer and one Sunday we decided to worship at the church where I wanted to go as an interim pastor. By now they had a permanently installed pastor. In talking to the senior pastor I learned that they were looking for a part-time associate pastor. I did not know this when we visited the church. In the end I was asked to join their church staff. I served as an associate pastor for five delightful years.
If I had been able to accept the interim pastoral position in this church it only would have been for five months. As it turned out, I later went to the church and served not for five months but five years. What appeared like a disaster actually became for me an extraordinary blessing.
Those of us who live in the Midwest frequently take mini-vacation trips to Frankenmuth, Michigan, often titled "Michigan's Little Bavaria." The town is located just north of the city of Flint. A group of fifteen German-Lutheran missionaries came to the area in 1845 to share the Christian gospel with the Chippewa Indians. Frankenmuth means "Courage of the Franconians." "Muth" is the German word for courage, and "Franken" refers to Franconia, the region of Germany from which the settlers came.
Today the town of more than 4,000 people is a thriving community that takes great pride in preserving their German heritage. They are famous for good food with two huge family restaurants, cheese and sausage factories, and much more. But surely the major attraction for most people is Bronner's "CHRISTmas Wonderland" -- advertised as the world's largest Christmas store with some five acres under one roof. People come from all over the country to shop here.
Toward the south end of the premises is the "Silent Night Memorial Chapel" -- a replica of the original one in Oberndorf, Austria, where the carol "Silent Night, Holy Night" was first sung in the Church of St. Nicholas. The church was washed away in a later flood and the chapel was erected on the same site. Incidentally, Oberndorf is only ten miles north of Salzburg, Austria, the home of Mozart and the location for the movie, The Sound of Music.
After a visit to Austria, Wally Bronner gained permission to build his "Silent Night Memorial Chapel" according to the original specifications of the one in Austria. As you move along the tranquil lamppost-lined walking path leading to the chapel you observe plaques with the hymn "Silent Night" written in 300 different languages. The peaceful interior of the chapel is an ideal place for prayer and meditation, a place to contemplate the deeper meaning of Jesus' birth.
The story behind the writing of this favorite Christmas carol is entrancing indeed!
Pastor Joseph Mohr of the newly erected Church of St. Nicholas learned only a few days before Christmas Eve from his organist Franz Gruber that the church organ had broken down. The people of this congregation had always looked forward to organ music on Christmas Eve.
To ease the tension Mohr decided to bundle himself up in his warmest winter clothes and visit members of his congregation. Shortly after he arrived at the home of one of his faithful families, a new baby was born to the poor laborer and his wife. Returning home he kept thinking about this newborn and also the coincidence of being born so close to Jesus' own birthday. When he arrived home, Pastor Mohr looked over some old notes he had made hoping to compose a poem. He finished his notes and the result was the words we now know as the beautiful Christmas carol:
Silent Night, Holy Night
All is calm, All is bright
Round yon Virgin Mother and Child.
Holy Infant, so tender and mild;
Sleep in heavenly peace, Sleep in heavenly peace.
The next day Mohr saw Gruber again and showing him his slip of paper with the words he had just written, he asked his organist if he couldn't come up with music that would fit these words. Mohr offered his own guitar as a substitute for the church organ. Gruber did not exactly relish his task but he worked on it and by the time the Christmas Eve service rolled around, he had music to go with the pastor's words.
We are not certain whether it was Mohr or Gruber who played the guitar that night, but in any event, this congregation was the first group of people to sing "Stille Nacht. Heilge Nacht." In the spring the master organ repairman came around and did repair the church organ. While he was in Oberndorf, Mohr asked Gruber to play the new Christmas carol for him. The master organ repairman was so impressed he circulated the carol around Austria and Germany. Later it was further popularized by four Strasser sisters, one of the most acclaimed singing groups of the day. Eventually, this song was sung all over the world and has become one of our favorites, if not the favorite Christmas carol of all.4
What was an apparent disaster at first turned out to be an opportunity to create the memorable Christmas carol "Silent Night, Holy Night" -- one of our richest blessings of the season. Amen.
__________
1. Wayne Muller, Sabbath (New York: Bantam Books, 2002), 187-188.
2. Ron Chernow, Washington: A Life (New York: The Penguin Press, 2010), 323325.
3. Philip Yancey, Disappointment with God (Grand Rapids: Zondervan Publishing House, 1992), 119.
4. Albert Edward Bailey, The Gospel in Hymns (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1952), 342-343.
Months later, his horse returned, bringing with her a magnificent stallion. This time everyone was full of congratulations for the son's good fortune. However, his father said, "What makes you so sure this isn't a disaster?" Their house was made richer by this fine horse, which his son loved to ride. One day he fell off the horse and broke his hip. Once again, everyone offered consolations for his bad luck, but his father said, "What makes you so sure this is not a blessing?"
A year later the nomads mounted an invasion across the border and every able-bodied man was required to take up his bow and go into battle. The Chinese frontiersmen lost nine of every ten men. Only because the son was lame did father and son survive to take care of each other. Truly, the story reminds us blessing turns to disaster and disaster to blessing.1
The Christmas story in the gospel of Luke could be viewed from one angle as a disaster but from another angle it seems to be a blessing. Using our imagination we can picture Joseph and his pregnant wife Mary starting out on their eighty-mile journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem. What a difficult trip it must have been. Once they arrived in Bethlehem they were to discover no lodging accommodations were available except for a stable in back of the inn or possibly underneath the house itself. Here they were alone, knowing not a single person, and their son is born in less than hygienic and comfortable surroundings.
The first people to greet them were not the dignitaries of the town but rough-looking, smelly shepherds from the hillside who claimed to have received word that the Messiah was to be born in Bethlehem that very night. In first-century Palestine the shepherds were considered to be on the lower level of the social scale. To be sure, Joseph and Mary might have recalled that King David had been a shepherd, but Luke probably includes them in this story because his purpose in writing his gospel is to show that God's good news in Jesus reached out in a special way to the poor, despised, and outcasts of society, even to lowly shepherds tending their sheep on lonely hilltops.
Everything seemed to have gone wrong for Joseph and Mary. Surely they might have thought of this night as a disaster.
From our own perspective of 2,000 years we interpret the birth of Jesus, though born in humble circumstances, not to be a disaster but a blessing. A Savior has been born, the long-awaited Messiah, the hope of Israel, the Lord. Hence the angelic host sang: "Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors" (Luke 2:14).
Likewise, the death of Jesus would be seen as a tragic disaster at first. When Charlemagne, king of the Franks during the Middle Ages, first heard the story of Jesus' arrest and execution, he exploded in rage. Seizing his sword, he shouted for all to hear, "Oh, if only I had been there; I would have slain them all with my legions!" We can appreciate the ardent faith of this follower of Jesus but we wonder what he could have done if he had been there. God was present at the cross but did not intervene. Jesus himself claimed he could have called on an army of angels but he did not ask for help either. Jesus had told his disciples earlier: "No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends" (John 15:13). God's way was not to display power but to disclose love, sacrificial love, and this has ever been the appeal of the good news. After the resurrection Jesus' followers understood his death not to be a disaster but the greatest blessing of all.2
Throughout history what at first was thought to be a disaster has in the end been called a blessing. Consider the American Revolution and George Washington's crucial role as the commanding General for the Patriot side. If we were to total up victories in the various battles of the war, Washington would be labeled a weak General at best. He lost most of the individual battles he fought. He almost lost his whole army in the engagement at New York, but it was his good fortune that a heavy fog rolled across the Brooklyn shore enabling his 9,000 men to escape the British troops in the nick of time. After that Washington had few victories except for surprise raids at Trenton and at Princeton. For the most part he skillfully retreated to avoid a direct confrontation with the larger and more experienced British soldiers. Washington was handicapped by a Continental Congress that did not provide adequate funds or soldiers for him to take the offensive. Later in the war he lost battles at Brandywine and Germantown. Finally, in 1781, six years into the war, Washington prevailed assisted by French troops and more importantly by the French fleet that blockaded the harbor at Yorktown, Virginia, so that Cornwallis and his British troops were trapped with no escape possible. Victory at Yorktown became the decisive battle of the war. Up to this point disaster seemed to be the verdict of the Patriot cause, but when all was over Washington's courage, patience, and strong leadership carried the day. Even in the dark days of the winter at Valley Forge, Washington's closest military advisors saw in their General something that would carry them through although odds seemed to be against them. Henry Knox confided in Washington: "The people of America look up to you as their father, and into your hands they entrust their all, fully confident of every exertion on your part for their security and happiness."3 It was that confidence and trust that in the course of time would turn disaster into blessing.
An episode in my own life has convinced me that I commonly do not know what is best for me. I had been serving a church as an interim pastor for three years when the search committee reported that it was ready to recommend a candidate to the congregation as pastor. I was told the candidate was "absolutely sure" he was ready to respond to the call and begin his pastoral duties.
About the same time all of this was happening I was contacted by another church to see if I would come to be their interim pastor. I really wanted to go to this church and I was happy to receive an invitation even though it was thought to be a brief interim period. Then disaster struck, at least it seemed that way to me. At the last minute the prospective candidate decided not to come. What was I to do? I had served in this current church for three years as the interim pastor. I was ready to accept a new assignment. My wife Arlene, who has always been my spiritual and moral compass, pointed me in the right direction. She convinced me that as much I wanted to make a move my first responsibility was to stay where I was and complete the task. One of the most difficult things I have had to do was to call the chair of the interim pastor search committee and tell him I could not come right then and why I could not come.
I stayed another six months until the church did call a candidate who agreed to come and to this day he has had a fruitful pastorate. My wife and I worshiped in a number of churches during the summer and one Sunday we decided to worship at the church where I wanted to go as an interim pastor. By now they had a permanently installed pastor. In talking to the senior pastor I learned that they were looking for a part-time associate pastor. I did not know this when we visited the church. In the end I was asked to join their church staff. I served as an associate pastor for five delightful years.
If I had been able to accept the interim pastoral position in this church it only would have been for five months. As it turned out, I later went to the church and served not for five months but five years. What appeared like a disaster actually became for me an extraordinary blessing.
Those of us who live in the Midwest frequently take mini-vacation trips to Frankenmuth, Michigan, often titled "Michigan's Little Bavaria." The town is located just north of the city of Flint. A group of fifteen German-Lutheran missionaries came to the area in 1845 to share the Christian gospel with the Chippewa Indians. Frankenmuth means "Courage of the Franconians." "Muth" is the German word for courage, and "Franken" refers to Franconia, the region of Germany from which the settlers came.
Today the town of more than 4,000 people is a thriving community that takes great pride in preserving their German heritage. They are famous for good food with two huge family restaurants, cheese and sausage factories, and much more. But surely the major attraction for most people is Bronner's "CHRISTmas Wonderland" -- advertised as the world's largest Christmas store with some five acres under one roof. People come from all over the country to shop here.
Toward the south end of the premises is the "Silent Night Memorial Chapel" -- a replica of the original one in Oberndorf, Austria, where the carol "Silent Night, Holy Night" was first sung in the Church of St. Nicholas. The church was washed away in a later flood and the chapel was erected on the same site. Incidentally, Oberndorf is only ten miles north of Salzburg, Austria, the home of Mozart and the location for the movie, The Sound of Music.
After a visit to Austria, Wally Bronner gained permission to build his "Silent Night Memorial Chapel" according to the original specifications of the one in Austria. As you move along the tranquil lamppost-lined walking path leading to the chapel you observe plaques with the hymn "Silent Night" written in 300 different languages. The peaceful interior of the chapel is an ideal place for prayer and meditation, a place to contemplate the deeper meaning of Jesus' birth.
The story behind the writing of this favorite Christmas carol is entrancing indeed!
Pastor Joseph Mohr of the newly erected Church of St. Nicholas learned only a few days before Christmas Eve from his organist Franz Gruber that the church organ had broken down. The people of this congregation had always looked forward to organ music on Christmas Eve.
To ease the tension Mohr decided to bundle himself up in his warmest winter clothes and visit members of his congregation. Shortly after he arrived at the home of one of his faithful families, a new baby was born to the poor laborer and his wife. Returning home he kept thinking about this newborn and also the coincidence of being born so close to Jesus' own birthday. When he arrived home, Pastor Mohr looked over some old notes he had made hoping to compose a poem. He finished his notes and the result was the words we now know as the beautiful Christmas carol:
Silent Night, Holy Night
All is calm, All is bright
Round yon Virgin Mother and Child.
Holy Infant, so tender and mild;
Sleep in heavenly peace, Sleep in heavenly peace.
The next day Mohr saw Gruber again and showing him his slip of paper with the words he had just written, he asked his organist if he couldn't come up with music that would fit these words. Mohr offered his own guitar as a substitute for the church organ. Gruber did not exactly relish his task but he worked on it and by the time the Christmas Eve service rolled around, he had music to go with the pastor's words.
We are not certain whether it was Mohr or Gruber who played the guitar that night, but in any event, this congregation was the first group of people to sing "Stille Nacht. Heilge Nacht." In the spring the master organ repairman came around and did repair the church organ. While he was in Oberndorf, Mohr asked Gruber to play the new Christmas carol for him. The master organ repairman was so impressed he circulated the carol around Austria and Germany. Later it was further popularized by four Strasser sisters, one of the most acclaimed singing groups of the day. Eventually, this song was sung all over the world and has become one of our favorites, if not the favorite Christmas carol of all.4
What was an apparent disaster at first turned out to be an opportunity to create the memorable Christmas carol "Silent Night, Holy Night" -- one of our richest blessings of the season. Amen.
__________
1. Wayne Muller, Sabbath (New York: Bantam Books, 2002), 187-188.
2. Ron Chernow, Washington: A Life (New York: The Penguin Press, 2010), 323325.
3. Philip Yancey, Disappointment with God (Grand Rapids: Zondervan Publishing House, 1992), 119.
4. Albert Edward Bailey, The Gospel in Hymns (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1952), 342-343.
