Alive To Rise

Where in life do you need God's help to rise again? 

Haggai 1:15b-2:9
Psalm 145:1-5, 18-22
 2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17
Luke 20:27-38

 

© 2025 The Rev. Seth Olson

 

This sermon was preached on the 22nd Sunday after Pentecost (November 9, 2025) at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles in Hoover, AL. A video of the sermon may be found here. 

Holy God, let my words be your words, and when they are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

 

“He is not God of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive.”

 

There are moments in scripture where someone asks Jesus a question that sounds religious but really isn’t. The inquiry that kicks off today’s Gospel is one of those moments.

 

A group of Sadducees—religious leaders known for their wealth, influence, and skepticism—approach Jesus with a story they’ve carefully crafted to make resurrection seem as ridiculous as possible. My friend, the Rev. Charles Youngson, likes to say, “The Sadducees were ‘Sad, you see’ because they didn’t believe in the Resurrection.” They didn’t believe in it because they were the biblical literalists of their day, accepting only the first five books of Moses as authoritative. And, those books don’t explicitly mention resurrection, so they reasoned it couldn’t possibly be true.

 

And if you’ve ever read this exchange, you know—it’s kind of absurd. They present Jesus with this long hypothetical: “A woman marries one brother, he dies. Then she marries the next one, he dies. Then the next, and the next, until she’s married seven brothers. In the resurrection, whose wife will she be?”

 

It’s not a question of faith; it’s a trap. (And yes, Star Wars fans, I can’t read this passage without hearing Admiral Ackbar shout, “It’s a trap!”) The Sadducees’ question is less theology and more theater. They’re performing their cleverness, hoping to make Jesus look foolish. Thank goodness, we never do that to one another (he says with sarcasm dripping from his words).

 

But Jesus doesn’t take the bait, y’all. He doesn’t argue the logic or try to outwit them. Instead, he reframes the entire conversation. He refuses to play by their categories of ownership, possession, or legal status. He says, in effect, You’re missing the point.

The resurrection isn’t about whose wife someone is—it’s about whose life we all belong to. “Those who belong to this age marry and are given in marriage,” Jesus says, “but those who are considered worthy of that age and the resurrection… cannot die anymore, because they are like angels and are children of God.”

 

And then he quotes the very scripture the Sadducees claim to honor: Exodus 3:6. God says to Moses, “I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” Notice the verb tense here—am, not was. God is—present tense—the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Which means that even though they died long ago, they still live in God.

 

And then Jesus delivers one of the most remarkable lines in all of Holy Scripture: “He is not God of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive.”

 

Friends, that is resurrection. It’s not about biology—it’s about belonging. It’s not about life after death—it’s about life beyond fear. Resurrection means that life in God is never over, never lost, never gone. To God, all are alive.

 

That’s good news for those who grieve—but it’s also good news for those who live. Because if resurrection is real, then it’s not something we simply wait for—it’s something we participate in now. And on this Consecration Sunday, that’s exactly what we are doing: participating in the living work of God. 

 

This morning, we’ll ask God’s blessing upon our 2026 pledge commitments—our Tell Out My Soul campaign. These estimates of giving aren’t just about maintaining the institution or paying the bills; they’re acts of resurrection faith.

 

The Greek word for resurrection literally translates “to stand up again. Resurrection is standing up again. After grief. After exhaustion. After doubt. After years when hope feels too costly or faith feels too fragile.

 

Every pledge, every act of generosity, every prayer for the future of this church—each is a form of rising again. A standing up again in faith. We stand up again as people of the living God, declaring that this community is vibrant. That Christ’s ministry with us is growing. That the Spirit still moves through us to bring healing, justice, compassion, and joy into a world that often feels like it’s dying of cynicism, apathy, and despair.

 

I think about this sanctuary—this holy space filled each week with the living presence of God and the living faith of God’s people. When a child splashes at the baptismal font or a choir anthem rises to the rafters, when bread is broken and wine is poured, when hands are held and prayers are whispered—these are not signs of a church that once was. No, you are the living, breathing Body of Christ here and now.

 

And our giving—our stewardship—is not a transaction. It’s an act of resurrection. It says, We believe in life. We believe in love that outlasts death. We believe in the God of the living.

 

The Sadducees’ mistake was assuming that death has the last word. Jesus’ answer tells us that the last word belongs to God—and God’s word is life. That truth is not abstract. It’s not only about heaven someday. It’s as close and as tangible as this moment—where we, the living, gather to commit ourselves again to the life of God in this place.

 

So let me offer you a question—not a trick one, but a real one: Where in your life do you need to “stand up again”? Where have fear, regret, or weariness kept you sitting down, holding back, staying small? Where do you need God’s resurrecting power to lift you up once more?

 

Because the God of the living invites us to rise—to trust that we are not done, that the story of Holy Apostles is not finished, that the story of your soul is not done. When we rise in generosity, in faith, in love, we proclaim resurrection in the here and now.

 

Years ago at my first parish, a parishioner on a fixed income confided in me, “I’m not sure my pledge will make much difference.” My response was, “You have no idea how much it will.” Because the miracle of resurrection is that even the smallest seed of faith can grow into something beautiful—much like the mustard seed Jesus spoke of earlier in Luke.

Even the smallest act of generosity can change a life. Even the faintest prayer of hope can ripple through this community and raise someone else up. That’s what the Church is meant to be: a gathering of people who stand up again and again, trusting that God’s life flows through us, through our giving, through our love.

 

So today, as we offer our 2026 pledges, as we tell out our souls, we do so not as people trying to prove something to God, but as people already held in the life of God. We give because we are alive. We serve because God’s Spirit breathes in us. We hope because resurrection is real.

 

The same God who raised Jesus from the dead raises us still—raises our courage, our compassion, our commitment—to build up the ministry of Christ Jesus in this place. We are, all of us, standing up again. And when we do, the world catches a glimpse of what resurrection looks like: not only life after death, but life before death. Not only heaven to come, but heaven breaking in—right here, right now.

 

“He is not God of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive.”

That means Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob are alive.
That means Mary and Elizabeth are alive.
That means the Holy Apostles and all beloveds who have gone before us—their love, their faith, their generosity—are alive.
And that means you and I are alive too.

Alive to give.
Alive to love.
Alive to rise...

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

 

Repeated Wisdom

 

Orange you glad I didn't say banana?

 

This sermon was preached on the 13^th Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 15B) at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles in Hoover, AL. A video of the sermon may be found here. The readings which inspired the sermon were the following: 

 

1 Kings 2:10-12; 3:3-14
Psalm 111
Ephesians 5:15-20
John 6:51-58

 

Me: Knock knock. 

 

Congregation: Who’s there?

 

Me: Banana.

 

Congregation: Banana who?

 

Me: Knock knock.

 

Congregation: Who’s there?

 

Me: Banana.

 

Congregation: Banana who?

 

Me: Knock knock.

 

Congregation: Who’s there?

 

Me: Banana. 

 

Congregation: Banana who?

 

Me: Knock knock. 

 

Congregation: Who’s there?

 

Me: Orange.

 

Congregation: Orange who?

 

Me: Orange you glad I didn’t say banana?

 

[Everyone laughs… okay not really.]

 

That is my favorite joke. And, it’s terrible, I know. I’ve loved it for longer than I can remember. Its humor comes from—okay it’s not really funny—but, if it were funny it would be funny because of its repetition. We may think the same thing about the Gospel lessons we’ve heard over the last few weeks. It is funny—but not really funny—because Jesus keeps repeating the same thing over and over again. But why? 

 

Why does Jesus keep talking about bread? We have heard for the past four weeks (including today) that Jesus is the Bread of Life, the Bread of Heaven, the Bread that will feed the World. So why must we keep hearing this again and again? Why does Jesus keep overwhelming us with more and more difficult passages about him and bread? 

 

I can think of three reasons why someone would repeat oneself over and over and over again. First, because one’s audience was not listening—What? Second, because one’s audience did not get it—Huh? And third, because one’s audience needed desperately to hear it—it was just that important. Fittingly enough, I believe this passage points to all three of these being true. Jesus said these things because the people were not listening, they did not get it, and what he was saying was too important not to repeat. Let’s look at these three more deeply.

 

1. Audience Not Listening

 

When I was a kid, I did not listen well. My first response when someone spoke to me quite often was the question “What?” At times, I struggled to pay attention. Recently, I was diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), so my short attention span, which led me to distraction makes more sense. Similarly, those in Jesus’ day were distracted—they were not listening to what Jesus said. We can even see this in the way that Jesus and the religious folk spoke to each other. 

Previously in the Sixth Chapter of John, allusions were made to the story of God feeding the Israelites in the wilderness with manna—bread from heaven. In that story, the people grumbled to Moses and God for flesh. Their words were give us the flesh. This is almost exactly what the people said to Jesus in today’s Gospel. We read it as “his flesh” but that was not what they said—our translation makes an interpretive change from “the” to “his.” Read this way it would say, “How can this man give us the flesh to eat?” To me, this changes how I hear the crowd’s words. Jesus was talking about his flesh feeding them. The people were not listening though, but why? 

 

Those people who had been following Jesus around throughout this chapter had been fed with actual bread from Jesus. Imagine how good that bread was! If you were here during the Celebration of New Ministry, we used a communion bread recipe from All Saints’ Chapel in Sewanee. That bread tastes so good! I previously served at a church that used this recipe too. One time, we ran out of the communion bread. So, I handed one of the children a wafer. He promptly threw it back at me and told me that Jesus did not eat chips! 

 

Back in our Gospel lesson, those who followed Jesus around were deliciously fed by him. They ate bread from heaven and they wanted more. Some though were not listening for something more—they just wanted something to eat. And, even those who were intentionally listening—those who weren’t just looking for something to eat—might not have really understood what Jesus was saying to them.

 

2. Audience Not Understanding

 

Jesus said what he said over and over and over again in part because his listeners may have struggled with what he meant. Even with 2,000 years to process this, the Church still struggles with extracting the true meaning of this passage. What Jesus said could be construed in different ways. As we realized last week, Jesus did not want us to be cannibals, but his words really do point to a physical reality. When he said he was giving his flesh for the life of the world he signified to those listening that something big was about to happen.

 

Soon enough in Jerusalem, Jesus would be betrayed, persecuted, tortured, crucified, and killed. Jesus really did give up his flesh. Still there was more than one layer to what Jesus said. Hence, why it was hard and is still hard to understand what Jesus said—and why Jesus had to build up this teaching slowly. Yes, there was this layer of what was actually happening, but what about all the references to bread and eating this bread, his flesh? To eat his flesh and to drink his blood as bread and wine certainly refers to Holy Communion, but as we gather at Table with God, another mystical dimension opens. The Great Thanksgiving encompasses the physical, the metaphorical, the spiritual, and even what is beyond our comprehending. In Holy Communion, we encounter God so profoundly that we, at least in this Church, believe it’s important enough to participate in this celebration each and every week.

 

3. Audience Needed To Hear It Repeatedly

 

This truth, this reality of Divine Communion—of eating the Bread of Heaven, this reality was so important that Jesus said it over and over and over again, which is that third reason why he repeated himself. As Jesus continued speaking about bread, he made a significant connection tying together believing and eating. Those who believe will eat and those who eat will have eternal life through their believing. This refers to the reality of sacramental grace that happens at the altar rail, but it also can and maybe does happen at all times and in all places. For believing is not only about eating, it is also about consuming. It matters what we consume and also what consumes us. 

 

What do we consume? What do you consume? Not just what do you eat, although that is interesting enough to think about, but what do you do with your time, talent, and treasure? This is not simply a rhetorical question, I don’t always give homework in sermons, but this week I am. 

 

Homework

I want you to think about what you consume/what consumes you this week by taking part in three practices: 1. Look at your financial accounts. What do you consume with that money? When you get a paycheck does the first dollar go to God’s work or to what you want? 2. Look at how you spend your time. How much time does God get? When does that happen? Is it first thing in the morning? Is it just some leftover time here and there when you think about it? 3. Look at what activities, tasks, or events give you the most energy and which ones drain you the most. Not always but often the things that give us the most energy are areas where we have talent and when directed towards God’s work in this world it can be powerful and exceedingly joyful. Those areas are where we find our purpose and where we find our calling. You might find some fit for your calling on September 8th at this year’s Ministry Fair.

 

When you look at your life in these areas you might just see what you consume with your money, your time, and your energy. But, what consumes you? Often we think that heaven or the Kingdom of God are realities that await us when we “awake” on the other side of the grave; however, I don’t think that is the important thing that Jesus came to tell us. When the Body and Blood of Christ consume us—not just the other way around—then we realize that our entire lives—all our treasure, our time, and our talent—can be utilized for the building up of God’s Reign here on earth. When we are consumed by Christ, then everything works towards God’s purposes. 

 

Conclusion

Each of us is called into the ministry of Christ. We are all called to be members in His Body. All our stories fit into the Story of God’s Love—the sharing of the Good News of Christ. And to be more a part of all of this, God is calling us to be enveloped in Christ, consumed by the Body and Blood of Christ. 

 

We hear Jesus repeating his wisdom over and over and over again because we might not be listening at first, and because we might not get it all at once, and mostly because what we are hearing is so important. What we believe matters. And what we believe can best be seen not in what we say we believe, but in looking at what we eat, what we consume. What do you consume? What consumes you? May it always be the Body and Blood of Christ. Amen.  

The Greatest Joke of All

  

The Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles on this Easter morning!

Acts 10:34-43

Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24

1 Corinthians 15:1-11

John 20:1-18

©2024 The Rev. Seth Olson

 

Holy God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

 

There’s an Easter tradition within the Church, which I quite like. On this the Day of Resurrection, we tell jokes. Not just any jokes—we tell, terrible dad jokes about Easter! I mean why else would priests be called father if not for their awful sense of dad humor.

·       Do you know what the forecast was for this morning? 100% chance of Son rise!

·       Why did the easter egg hide? Because it was a little chicken!

·       Knock, knock! Who's there? Wendy. Wendy who? Wendy Easter egg hunt taking place? It’s after the 10:30 service, by the way.

·       When Jesus was resurrected what happened when he saw his shadow? Seven more weeks of Easter! 

 

Okay, I’m sorry. Those were bad eggs. Yikes, so was that. Alright, moving onward, you may wonder why we tell these yokes… I mean jokes on Easter. Well, it’s because there is a belief that this, the Day of Resurrection, is the greatest joke of all time. This was God’s way of pranking sin, evil, and death. Some say that this was Jesus’ way of getting back at Satan who beguiled our first parents, tempted Jesus in the wilderness, and even wooed him in the Garden of Gethsemane. Regardless of whether you are envisioning a glowing Risen Lord laughing at a man dressed in red spandex with horns and a pitchfork or something more metaphysical, it’s clear that God does have a good sense of humor! Even our Gospel lesson for today seems a bit humorous. 

 

First, there’s the way John subtly refers to himself. Mary Magdalene found the stone rolled away and the tomb empty. What did she do when she saw it like this? She ran to tell others this mysterious news. Whom did she tell? Peter and some other guy—the disciple whom Jesus loved. That’s the pseudonym John the Evangelist gave himself, like how Samuel Clemens wrote under the alias of Mark Twain, or Peter Gene Hernedez is better known as Bruno Mars, or how we don’t call the world class performer Alecia Beth Moore, we call her Pink. 

So, that’s one funny detail, but then we get to the disciples’ Easter morning 5K.

 

Peter and John faced off in an epic race. After hearing from Mary that Jesus’ body had been taken, they sprinted off to see the tomb for themselves. John described it this way, “The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first.” In your face, Simon aka Peter the Rock—I guess if he was the rock he was not a rolling stone. What’s even more comical to me though is what happened after they reached the tomb. 

 

Peter looked inside first. Then, the other disciple (John, we know it’s you) peeked in his head presumably after catching his breath. When he went in, he believed—maybe. For John stated they did not understand the Holy Scripture yet, and they left. This is so odd. It’s a moment of disbelief, which makes sense. We are talking about Resurrection here. Even after 2,000 years we are still in the dark about this great joke that God has played on death (and us). The next funny thing may very well be the most touching. 

 

Mary wasn’t ready to leave. She was exhausted, she had to be. She had watched her beloved friend and teacher, the one whom she thought was the Son of God, she had watched Jesus die a gruesome death on the Cross. Then, when she went to check on his grave, she found it agape. She sprinted back and forth from the tomb to the disciples and back to the tomb. Then, when they left, she was all alone believing that Jesus’ body had been pillaged. In this exhausted state she saw into a realm that makes no logical sense. She saw angels in the tomb, Mary even had a conversation with them. 

 

They asked why she was weeping she expressed her theory—they took him away. Then, not by magic but by something much more powerful the angels gave way to a mysterious figure. It was Jesus, but the funny thing was that Mary could not recognize him. 

 

The man asked her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” I can imagine this tired woman being about fed up with all of this. She turned towards the man, and she scolded him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Why did she do this? John wrote she did this supposing he was the gardener. 

 

Supposing him to be the gardener is a low key truth about God that John casually drops in as a funny line here in the Resurrection story, but it’s beautifully touching. He wasn’t a gardener, he is the gardener—as one song from the camp I grew up attending attests, “He’s a peach of a savior, he’s the apple of my eye, and he trims away the branches when the branches get to high, he will never ever leave me, so I’ll never, ever die, so that’s why I’m bananas for the Lord.” 

 

The Gardener of Eden, the tender of our souls, the Divine One who gives all growth is truly who Jesus was, but no he was not the gardener of this graveyard. Mary would soon discover this truth, but not before another funny moment. Mary assumed that Jesus was the gardener who had hauled away Jesus’ body. It is on one level true though, he was not the gardener, but Jesus had in truth taken away the body. So, Jesus did something that is simply lovely. 

 

He called her by name. In saying her name, “Mary,” the apostle to the apostles, this first messenger of the Best News that God has triumphed even over death, finally could see the truth she had begun relaying to others. She would then be able to fully announce that she had seen the Lord or as she calls him Rabbouni (meaning teacher). 

 

This Day of Resurrection encounter as told by John is full of these little moments of peculiarity, these comical bits that push me to not only see the best joke of all time that death is no more, but also to understand more truthfully the Best News of all time. There is nothing, nothing, not sin, not evil, not death, nothing you have done or left undone, no mistake too big, no crisis too tall, nothing that separates God’s love from you. 

 

We may though not always be able to feel this love. We might like Peter and John be too interested in competing against one another. We might like those disciples be too impatient hurrying off before the fuller bits of the Great Mystery are revealed. We might even like Mary have vision too clouded by grief or loss or exhaustion to see the love incarnate standing right in front of us. Still, God’s love persists through sin, evil, and even death. 

 

God’s love persists for you, for all, forever. And that is no joke. Amen.

What We Have To Give

This corny cartoon isn't the only thing wrong with how we tell the story of the wise men, but what is the message of their coming truly about?

© Seth Olson 2020

January 5, 2020—The Second Sunday after Christmas

Jeremiah 31:7-14

Psalm 84:1-8

Ephesians 1:3-6,15-19a

Matthew 2:1-12

There once was an Episcopal priest from New England who was visiting his wife’s relatives in rural Mississippi. It was the week after Christmas. Driving through the town the priest from up north was happy to see a Nativity scene still up even though it was the eleventh day of Christmas. The care and attention put into this particular Nativity scene made it so beautiful that the priest decided to stop, get out of his car, and examine it more. (By the way, if you are wondering, this is the sort of dorky things that priests do while on vacation.)

Upon closer examination the priest was surprised—not because of the shining Angel Gabrielle, nor the placid Virgin Mary, nor the stalwart Joseph, nor even the calm baby Jesus—no, the priest was surprised to see the three wise men wearing firemen’s helmets. Baffled by the magi’s appearance, the priest walked into the church office. 

Once inside he introduced himself, and in his thick Boston area accent asked, “Why are the three wise men in your beautiful nativity scene wearing firemen’s helmets?” At this question, the church administrator became quite upset with the priest. Disappointed she exclaimed, “You Yankees! You never did read or understand the Holy Bible!”

After trying to explain that he was himself a minister, the woman at the desk started digging around her shelves. As she did the priest told her that no firemen appear in the Bible, but the administrator persisted and finally found a copy of the holy book. She frantically flipped through its pages. Turning to the appropriate chapter and verse, she pointed her index finger at the right passage, then pushed it into the priest’s face. “Look! It says it right there, ‘The three wise men came from afar…’ ”

(BOO!!! That’s a terrible joke!!! And a joke about fire at All Saints… come on!)

Even if I tried to give up dad jokes this New Year, it would be impossible. You can take the dad out of the dad joke but you cannot take the dad joke out of the dad. I apologize. While we have no confession at this service, I assure you I will certainly seek God’s forgiveness for putting you through that. Speaking of being put through things, how about these wise men?

They came from the East. They traveled across many different lands. They were guided not by a map, but by a star. They dealt with the terrible and violent King Herod. Finally, they found the Christ child. But, after giving him the gifts, they couldn’t even go home the same way because of Herod. So, what is this story truly about? 

Yes, the part of the magi is an awesome addition to the nativity pageant. Sure, the wise men coming from the East gives us an intriguing angle to the Christmas story. Of course, seeing their dutiful traveling to worship the Christ child inspires many a Christmas carol. However, the story of the magi is not simply something sentimental, rather it is a story that points us to the Epiphany when Christ was made known to the world and it is a story that challenges us to wonder, “What do we have to give to Christ?” Before exploring the Epiphany and what we might offer to Christ, let’s take a closer look at some of the often missed details of the Gospel story about the three kings. 

First, like the three firemen in the story earlier, there is no mention of three kings in the Holy Bible. What? GASP! The text never states that there are three visitors from the East. We interpret that there were that number because these foreigners brought three gifts—gold, frankincense, and myrrh. What about these gifts? 

The gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh weren't just random things these visitors brought. Gold represented a kingly gift, as Jesus is the true king, not only of the Jews but of Creation. Frankincense represented a spiritual gift, and it is still used as incense to symbolize our prayers and praises rising up to the throne of heaven (wherever it mystically resides). Myrrh was a stranger gift. It would have pointed to the sacrificial gift that Jesus the Christ would later give to us. Myrrh was used to anoint the dead, and so for poor Mary she might have already seen this bittersweet gift as a foreboding sign of the life her child would lead. So this is why we think there were three of them, but we do not know the actual number of visitors, we also do not know if they were kings. 

The text literally calls these visitors magicians. What? Again, GASP! Now, this is not like we are substituting a visit from Queen Elizabeth for Penn and Teller, or Prince William for David Blane. Modern-day illusionists are not the type of magician of which this text was speaking. Still, these visitors from the East were different. Some scholars believe they were not monotheistic, nor were they part of the People of God. The magi (short for magician, by the way) took their cues from the splendor of Creation rather than the rigors of the Law, the Wisdom, and the Prophets. They may have even initially been pagan… GASP, a third time! 

Sometimes we cringe or grimace when we hear the word pagan. Culturally we have been conditioned to link it to people who do not believe in God. People who are godless heathens who are out to destroy the good work being done by Christians. However, the whole point of the Epiphany is that Christ is made known not only to God’s Chosen People—the people of Israel—i.e. not us—but also to the whole world—i.e. that is us. So while they may or may not have been three in number, and they may or most likely were not kings, and they could or could not have been pagan, these visitors from the East still do point us toward the Epiphany, and what we might give to Christ.

The Epiphany is a celebration of Christ’s light, life, and love being manifested to all people in the whole world. So, it is no wonder that the Magi are the poster boys of this celebration. For, if pagan magicians from the East could observe a star at its rising, follow it for 1,000 miles, deal with a dubious politician all so that they might deliver gifts and pay homage to God incarnate, who just so happens to be an infant, then that means God is able to work on everyone, everywhere. 

So, this is the truth about the Epiphany, it is a season when we recognize God’s eternal, unconditional, and limitless love in Christ reaching to the ends of the earth. That is the epiphany that we want the whole world to have—the moment when everyone jumps up and down in their proverbial lab coats shouting, “Eureka, I’ve finally discovered it for myself. God’s grace has hit me! Now, I’ve got to share it!” And this gets us to what we have to give.

One of my favorite Christmas hymns is “In the Bleak Midwinter.” It’s last verse begins: 
What can I give him, poor as I am? 
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb
If I were a wise man, I would do my part

I’ll finish the verse in a moment. What can we give Christ poor as we are? If we had been shepherds we would have brought our lambs for the young holy family to have. If we had been magicians from the East we would have brought gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. If we had been Mary and Joseph we would have cared for the baby Jesus. However, we are not any of them. We might not be poor in worldly standards, but we are poor in opportunity to be with Jesus in the way the shepherds, the wise men, or Mary and Joseph were. We do not live 2,000 years ago. We cannot travel to Bethlehem to actually see the babe lying in the manger. We are us, right now, so what do we have to give?

The last line of “In the Bleak Midwinter” points us to a gift we do have to offer regardless of when or where we live. That line reads, “yet what I can I give him—give my heart.” That’s the gift we can give to Jesus, and it is the gift our entire being yearns to give. Christ Jesus is Emmanuel—God who is with us. We may not give gold, but we give worth to Christ who is our king. We may not burn frankincense here, but we offer up our prayers and praises to Christ who sits enthroned at the Father’s right hand. We might not bring myrrh, but we celebrate Jesus as the Savior who came to free us from our sins. And in these ways we give our gifts of praise and thanksgiving to Christ, we give our selves, our souls and bodies to borrow the words from our Rite I Eucharist.

So, as we celebrate this Epiphany story—a moment when God’s eternal, unconditional, and limitless love was manifested in all the whole world, may we also see the many opportunities we have to give our hearts again to Christ. Jesus laid down his life to show us what that sort of giving looks like. May we know that in Christ Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross we are loved infinitely by God. May we always and everywhere give our hearts to God as God does to us. And may we share that same self-giving love with the whole world. Amen.