Serendipity
Sermon
Daniel J. Weitner
And Other Reflections On Christmas
Object:
I had just come out of a local donut shop, cardboard
container of coffee in hand, into the late fall chill. It was
windy. It was gray. Clouds had already obscured the setting sun,
and the sky overhead threatened snow. Just as I passed under a
tree that overhung the sidewalk, something landed on my head.
Now we've been urban dwellers long enough to realize three things: first, there are a lot of pigeons in densely populated areas; second, you never, ever open your mouth when looking up at pigeons flying overhead; and third, if anything falls from the sky, chances are that, whatever it is, you'll have to take a shower to clean it off.
In this case, however, the "something" that fell onto my head didn't come from a bird. It was a bird. A parakeet. Blue, speckled with green and yellow. A beautiful little creature.
Now if you know anything about parakeets, you're already aware that this bird had two strikes against it. Parakeets can't tolerate drafts. They also can't stand cold. And it had been exposed to both. For how long, I couldn't tell.
Call me a dupe for sympathizing with just about all the animal hard-luck stories I've ever heard. Call me just one more gullible champion of the underdog (sorry -- underbird). But I just couldn't stand the thought of a defenseless bird becoming some fat cat's early supper, or next morning's frozen budgie-on- a-stick. So I decided to launch Operation Grab the 'Keet. Actually, it wasn't too hard. Parakeets love shiny things, and as this one stopped to admire his reflection in a nearby 4 X 4's bumper, I managed to put my hand around his wings.
As it turned out, the bird was a lot less weak than I thought he'd be after managing to duck a stampede of homeward- bound kids and a bunch of New-York-City-bound 18-wheelers. Before I reached home just four blocks away, the little critter had managed to draw blood from my thumb and forefinger, and was putting up such a terrible squawk that I had visions of being surrounded by a SWAT team from the local chapter of ASPCA as I approached the front door.
For the next two weeks, we watched the big daily newspapers and their smaller weekly counterparts for word of some pet owner who had lost a parakeet. But nothing ever showed up, so we decided to adopt our little lost-and-found visitor.
"What should we name him?" I asked Lynne and the children. Right away, my daughter Kyrsten answered, "Serendipity!" It seemed like a logical thing, so the bird who had dropped in from the sky took up official residency at the Weitner household, and whatever his name had been before his entrance into our hearts, from that time forward he was indeed dubbed Serendipity.
He made lots of happy chatter during the years after that cold November day. In fact, we're still amazed that Serendipity survived as long as he did. He died only after sharing many years in our household. He managed to outlive several parakeets that were raised in ideal conditions from the time they were hatched and fostered with tender loving care.
According to our dictionary, the word "serendipity" was coined by author Horace Walpole in his tale The Three Princes of Serendip. It means "an aptitude ... for making fortunate discoveries accidentally or unexpectedly." Since it isn't every day that a parakeet which makes a three-point landing on a human's head gets to escape the cold and become part of a nurturing family, and since it isn't every day that a family finds such a charming little friend, I would say it was serendipity for both parties.
Whatever you may think of a person who shepherds sheep nowadays probably bears little resemblance to what people thought about shepherds at the dawning of the New Testament. The modern view of work is that the work itself gives a person dignity. Or, put another way, if you look for work and get work, if you then pursue your work with energy and thoroughness, part of your reward for doing it can be measured in the knowledge that you are making a contribution to the community in which you live. You are effective in changing the world for the better. To whatever degree, great or small, your work becomes part of an inheritance for the generations to come.
One of the biblical proverbs speaks about the difference between working and pretending to work: "In all toil there is profit, but mere talk leads only to poverty" (Proverbs 14:23).
Thus the digger of ditches, the creator of computer software, the architect of skyscrapers, the driver of limousines, the teacher, the homemaker, the commissioner, cowboy, and cook are all equal, if they take responsibility for what they do and have pride in who they are.
But in the days when Jesus was born, shepherds were not exactly well thought of. They were society's outcasts. Misfits. Dirty and smelly because of their work with sheep, they were shunned by "refined" people. Considered ignorant and boorish.
Shepherds were not permitted to go where the "mainstream" people went, or engage in the kinds of activities that even the common man or woman did. About the only circle of friends the shepherd had came from his own comrades in work. In short, there was nothing that was considered dignified or socially redeeming about being a shepherd.
Then, on a night that had been ordained by heaven from an eternity past, all the social conventions -- man-made standards that had fixed a king's role to center stage and a sealed a shepherd's lot to the shadows -- were at a stroke turned upside- down.
For at one and the same time, we saw something of
* God's righteousness...
* God's justice...
* God's indignation...
* God's grace...
* even God's humor...
in calling those he did to witness a monumental act of salvation. God's righteousness was declared because he wasn't bothered by their abysmally low standing in society:
I know that the Lord maintains the cause of the needy, and executes justice for the poor (Psalm 140:12).
Truly, no ransom avails for one's life, there is no price one can give to God for it. For the ransom of life is costly, and can never suffice, that one should live on forever and never see the grave ... Mortals cannot abide in their pomp; they are like the animals that perish. Such is the fate of the foolhardy, the end of those who are pleased with their lot (Psalm 49:7-9, 12-13).
God's justice was demonstrated in that he would overthrow the leaders who put impossible demands on the common man: "The days are surely coming ... when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he shall reign as king and deal wisely, and shall execute justice and righteousness in the land" (Jeremiah 23:5).
God's indignation was apparent when he chose so-called ignorant men, instead of wise, to be visited by heavenly messengers: "Ah, you who are wise in your own eyes, and shrewd in your own sight!" (Isaiah 5:21).
God's grace was clear in that he lavished a supreme gift upon those who, by all appearances, did not deserve it. The Bible confirms this: "Toward the scorners he is scornful, but to the humble he shows favor" (Proverbs 3:34).
God's humor was manifested there on that night of nights with men fairly tripping over one another's feet with excitement and bursting out with tremendous joy and laughter: " 'Let us ... see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.' So they went with haste ..." (Luke 2:15, 16).
It was neither kings, nor priests, nor politicians, nor theologians, but shepherds who were called to witness the miracle. It was not the high, but the lowly, who were summoned by heaven to view the holiest of God's mighty acts, the birth of his only-begotten Son, Jesus.
Years before that holy night in Bethlehem, it was the privilege of faithful leaders and prophets to receive the news that Messiah would come to redeem sinners. "But God will ransom my soul from the power of Sheol, for he will receive me" (Psalm 49:15).
And elsewhere: "Shall I ransom them from Death? O Death, where are your plagues? O Sheol, where is your destruction?" (Hosea 13:14).
These men of God had seen the Lord at work. They had heard his promises. They had marveled at the way God worked out every one of them. So they had no doubt that God would bring about the advent of Messiah, just as he vowed he would, even if it was to be generations in the future. So from the standpoint of kings and seers such as David, Isaiah, and Micah, the promise was as good as sealed and delivered.
Generations later, there were others who would come to know of the Savior's advent -- kings from lands far to the east of Judah. They had another view of the promise, but it was still closely associated with the words of God which were spoken to the prophets. Gentiles both by genetics and heritage, the wise men had read of God's favor and kindness extending beyond the borders of Israel.
So when they saw the guiding star that signaled God's coming among men and women, they were certain it was for them, because God had spoken through his prophet Isaiah about this very moment in history.
For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you, and his glory will appear over you. Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn. Lift up your eyes and look around; they all gather together, they come to you; your sons shall come from far away, and your daughters shall be carried on their nurses' arms. Then you shall see and be radiant; your heart shall thrill and rejoice ... the wealth of the nations shall come to you ... all those from Sheba shall come. They shall bring gold and frankincense, and shall proclaim the praise of the Lord (Isaiah 60:2-4, 5, 6).
So from the wise men's standpoint, it was the fulfillment of that promise spoken to the prophets of old. Of that they were certain. No wonder they were bold when entering the court of Herod!
In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, "Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage." When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, "In Bethlehem of Judea ..." Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, "Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage" (Matthew 2:1-5, 7-8).
But the shepherds had been viewed for too long by the nation simply as a utility. They served one function only. They had been put on earth to tend sheep, it was argued. They were not welcome in other areas. They served a purpose. Period. And that purpose did not include inquiring into matters of doctrine, theology, and prophecy. So they were denied the opportunities given to most other citizens of the nation. Including the occasion to delve into God's word: the law, the history, the prophecy as these things impacted the people.
Can you imagine their surprise, then, on that sacred night of the Nativity? The sky opened, the angel appeared, and the preliminary statement was made that a very important announcement was about to be given. When God's messenger said that, the shepherds may have looked around to see where the high priests, Pharisees, or doctors of the Law were standing. Because it was clear that no self-respecting angel of the Lord would be addressing them, the shepherds. Not them, the scum of the earth. Not them, the unschooled. Not them, the outsiders.
So when they saw no one there but themselves and the angel, their mouths must have dropped to the ground. Their knees buckled. Their hearts beat like jackhammers.
And their minds and hearts opened like roses to the morning sun.
Because, from the shepherds' viewpoint, God's invitation to them that they see the infant Jesus was astonishing almost beyond belief. Before them -- the humble, the common, the despised -- nestled in a bed of straw lay the hope of the meek.
* The gift of grace.
* The enfleshed Word.
* The Son of righteousness.
* The Prince of peace.
* God's surprise package to ordinary people. Serendipity.
"I can't believe it!" "Let's see what the Lord has done!" "But what about the sheep?" "Let the sheep fend for themselves for tonight." "Yes, the sheep will be safe for now." "We can't hesitate a moment; we'll go right away!" "Praise Jehovah!" "But why has he favored us, of all people?" "Right! We're just shepherds, not priests. What does the Lord have in mind?" "Don't question it. Just get your feet moving!"
God must have smiled at his choice of those who would be first to hear the news. A theologian would have become too buried in his holy books to see how likely it was that there were really angels. A philosopher would have dismissed the whole affair as illogical. A priest would have gotten lost in the temple, offering up endless sacrifices. And a king? We know what Herod thought of the possibility of a throne usurper.
But the shepherds did what anyone who has ever heard the gospel ought to do. What you have the choice to do. They heard. They took the message to heart. They went. They believed. And they thanked God.
Now we've been urban dwellers long enough to realize three things: first, there are a lot of pigeons in densely populated areas; second, you never, ever open your mouth when looking up at pigeons flying overhead; and third, if anything falls from the sky, chances are that, whatever it is, you'll have to take a shower to clean it off.
In this case, however, the "something" that fell onto my head didn't come from a bird. It was a bird. A parakeet. Blue, speckled with green and yellow. A beautiful little creature.
Now if you know anything about parakeets, you're already aware that this bird had two strikes against it. Parakeets can't tolerate drafts. They also can't stand cold. And it had been exposed to both. For how long, I couldn't tell.
Call me a dupe for sympathizing with just about all the animal hard-luck stories I've ever heard. Call me just one more gullible champion of the underdog (sorry -- underbird). But I just couldn't stand the thought of a defenseless bird becoming some fat cat's early supper, or next morning's frozen budgie-on- a-stick. So I decided to launch Operation Grab the 'Keet. Actually, it wasn't too hard. Parakeets love shiny things, and as this one stopped to admire his reflection in a nearby 4 X 4's bumper, I managed to put my hand around his wings.
As it turned out, the bird was a lot less weak than I thought he'd be after managing to duck a stampede of homeward- bound kids and a bunch of New-York-City-bound 18-wheelers. Before I reached home just four blocks away, the little critter had managed to draw blood from my thumb and forefinger, and was putting up such a terrible squawk that I had visions of being surrounded by a SWAT team from the local chapter of ASPCA as I approached the front door.
For the next two weeks, we watched the big daily newspapers and their smaller weekly counterparts for word of some pet owner who had lost a parakeet. But nothing ever showed up, so we decided to adopt our little lost-and-found visitor.
"What should we name him?" I asked Lynne and the children. Right away, my daughter Kyrsten answered, "Serendipity!" It seemed like a logical thing, so the bird who had dropped in from the sky took up official residency at the Weitner household, and whatever his name had been before his entrance into our hearts, from that time forward he was indeed dubbed Serendipity.
He made lots of happy chatter during the years after that cold November day. In fact, we're still amazed that Serendipity survived as long as he did. He died only after sharing many years in our household. He managed to outlive several parakeets that were raised in ideal conditions from the time they were hatched and fostered with tender loving care.
According to our dictionary, the word "serendipity" was coined by author Horace Walpole in his tale The Three Princes of Serendip. It means "an aptitude ... for making fortunate discoveries accidentally or unexpectedly." Since it isn't every day that a parakeet which makes a three-point landing on a human's head gets to escape the cold and become part of a nurturing family, and since it isn't every day that a family finds such a charming little friend, I would say it was serendipity for both parties.
Whatever you may think of a person who shepherds sheep nowadays probably bears little resemblance to what people thought about shepherds at the dawning of the New Testament. The modern view of work is that the work itself gives a person dignity. Or, put another way, if you look for work and get work, if you then pursue your work with energy and thoroughness, part of your reward for doing it can be measured in the knowledge that you are making a contribution to the community in which you live. You are effective in changing the world for the better. To whatever degree, great or small, your work becomes part of an inheritance for the generations to come.
One of the biblical proverbs speaks about the difference between working and pretending to work: "In all toil there is profit, but mere talk leads only to poverty" (Proverbs 14:23).
Thus the digger of ditches, the creator of computer software, the architect of skyscrapers, the driver of limousines, the teacher, the homemaker, the commissioner, cowboy, and cook are all equal, if they take responsibility for what they do and have pride in who they are.
But in the days when Jesus was born, shepherds were not exactly well thought of. They were society's outcasts. Misfits. Dirty and smelly because of their work with sheep, they were shunned by "refined" people. Considered ignorant and boorish.
Shepherds were not permitted to go where the "mainstream" people went, or engage in the kinds of activities that even the common man or woman did. About the only circle of friends the shepherd had came from his own comrades in work. In short, there was nothing that was considered dignified or socially redeeming about being a shepherd.
Then, on a night that had been ordained by heaven from an eternity past, all the social conventions -- man-made standards that had fixed a king's role to center stage and a sealed a shepherd's lot to the shadows -- were at a stroke turned upside- down.
For at one and the same time, we saw something of
* God's righteousness...
* God's justice...
* God's indignation...
* God's grace...
* even God's humor...
in calling those he did to witness a monumental act of salvation. God's righteousness was declared because he wasn't bothered by their abysmally low standing in society:
I know that the Lord maintains the cause of the needy, and executes justice for the poor (Psalm 140:12).
Truly, no ransom avails for one's life, there is no price one can give to God for it. For the ransom of life is costly, and can never suffice, that one should live on forever and never see the grave ... Mortals cannot abide in their pomp; they are like the animals that perish. Such is the fate of the foolhardy, the end of those who are pleased with their lot (Psalm 49:7-9, 12-13).
God's justice was demonstrated in that he would overthrow the leaders who put impossible demands on the common man: "The days are surely coming ... when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he shall reign as king and deal wisely, and shall execute justice and righteousness in the land" (Jeremiah 23:5).
God's indignation was apparent when he chose so-called ignorant men, instead of wise, to be visited by heavenly messengers: "Ah, you who are wise in your own eyes, and shrewd in your own sight!" (Isaiah 5:21).
God's grace was clear in that he lavished a supreme gift upon those who, by all appearances, did not deserve it. The Bible confirms this: "Toward the scorners he is scornful, but to the humble he shows favor" (Proverbs 3:34).
God's humor was manifested there on that night of nights with men fairly tripping over one another's feet with excitement and bursting out with tremendous joy and laughter: " 'Let us ... see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.' So they went with haste ..." (Luke 2:15, 16).
It was neither kings, nor priests, nor politicians, nor theologians, but shepherds who were called to witness the miracle. It was not the high, but the lowly, who were summoned by heaven to view the holiest of God's mighty acts, the birth of his only-begotten Son, Jesus.
Years before that holy night in Bethlehem, it was the privilege of faithful leaders and prophets to receive the news that Messiah would come to redeem sinners. "But God will ransom my soul from the power of Sheol, for he will receive me" (Psalm 49:15).
And elsewhere: "Shall I ransom them from Death? O Death, where are your plagues? O Sheol, where is your destruction?" (Hosea 13:14).
These men of God had seen the Lord at work. They had heard his promises. They had marveled at the way God worked out every one of them. So they had no doubt that God would bring about the advent of Messiah, just as he vowed he would, even if it was to be generations in the future. So from the standpoint of kings and seers such as David, Isaiah, and Micah, the promise was as good as sealed and delivered.
Generations later, there were others who would come to know of the Savior's advent -- kings from lands far to the east of Judah. They had another view of the promise, but it was still closely associated with the words of God which were spoken to the prophets. Gentiles both by genetics and heritage, the wise men had read of God's favor and kindness extending beyond the borders of Israel.
So when they saw the guiding star that signaled God's coming among men and women, they were certain it was for them, because God had spoken through his prophet Isaiah about this very moment in history.
For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you, and his glory will appear over you. Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn. Lift up your eyes and look around; they all gather together, they come to you; your sons shall come from far away, and your daughters shall be carried on their nurses' arms. Then you shall see and be radiant; your heart shall thrill and rejoice ... the wealth of the nations shall come to you ... all those from Sheba shall come. They shall bring gold and frankincense, and shall proclaim the praise of the Lord (Isaiah 60:2-4, 5, 6).
So from the wise men's standpoint, it was the fulfillment of that promise spoken to the prophets of old. Of that they were certain. No wonder they were bold when entering the court of Herod!
In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, "Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage." When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, "In Bethlehem of Judea ..." Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, "Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage" (Matthew 2:1-5, 7-8).
But the shepherds had been viewed for too long by the nation simply as a utility. They served one function only. They had been put on earth to tend sheep, it was argued. They were not welcome in other areas. They served a purpose. Period. And that purpose did not include inquiring into matters of doctrine, theology, and prophecy. So they were denied the opportunities given to most other citizens of the nation. Including the occasion to delve into God's word: the law, the history, the prophecy as these things impacted the people.
Can you imagine their surprise, then, on that sacred night of the Nativity? The sky opened, the angel appeared, and the preliminary statement was made that a very important announcement was about to be given. When God's messenger said that, the shepherds may have looked around to see where the high priests, Pharisees, or doctors of the Law were standing. Because it was clear that no self-respecting angel of the Lord would be addressing them, the shepherds. Not them, the scum of the earth. Not them, the unschooled. Not them, the outsiders.
So when they saw no one there but themselves and the angel, their mouths must have dropped to the ground. Their knees buckled. Their hearts beat like jackhammers.
And their minds and hearts opened like roses to the morning sun.
Because, from the shepherds' viewpoint, God's invitation to them that they see the infant Jesus was astonishing almost beyond belief. Before them -- the humble, the common, the despised -- nestled in a bed of straw lay the hope of the meek.
* The gift of grace.
* The enfleshed Word.
* The Son of righteousness.
* The Prince of peace.
* God's surprise package to ordinary people. Serendipity.
"I can't believe it!" "Let's see what the Lord has done!" "But what about the sheep?" "Let the sheep fend for themselves for tonight." "Yes, the sheep will be safe for now." "We can't hesitate a moment; we'll go right away!" "Praise Jehovah!" "But why has he favored us, of all people?" "Right! We're just shepherds, not priests. What does the Lord have in mind?" "Don't question it. Just get your feet moving!"
God must have smiled at his choice of those who would be first to hear the news. A theologian would have become too buried in his holy books to see how likely it was that there were really angels. A philosopher would have dismissed the whole affair as illogical. A priest would have gotten lost in the temple, offering up endless sacrifices. And a king? We know what Herod thought of the possibility of a throne usurper.
But the shepherds did what anyone who has ever heard the gospel ought to do. What you have the choice to do. They heard. They took the message to heart. They went. They believed. And they thanked God.
