Oak Chapel United Methodist Church

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"Since the children (that's us) are made of flesh and blood, it's logical that the Savior took on flesh and blood in order to rescue them by his death. By embracing death, taking it into himself, he destroyed the Devil's hold on death and freed all who cower through life, scared to death of death."

The Book of Hebrews, to be frank about it, is not an easy read. Peterson's paraphrase, called "The Message," helps us to understand what the author is getting at: If Jesus is to help us he must have a foot in each world: earth and heaven. In fact, he is able to help us precisely because he does stand between God and man being not half-and-half, but fully both. Then the author of Hebrews introduces an analogy, a likeness, with which his Jewish/Christian readers would have been very familiar. Like the High Priest in the Jerusalem Temple, he writes, Jesus mediates between man and God, taking our sacrifices and our pleas to the altar and coming back to us with God's word. He speaks to God for us, and to us for God.

Yes, Jesus is God, but he is not God-at-a-distance, not a God who leans over heaven's balcony and beckon us to come to him. Instead, and this is the central amazing thing about Jesus, he comes and dwells among us (the Christmas miracle), sharing with us flesh and blood. ("And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us," John marvels.)

		Out of the ivory palaces, into this world of woe,
		Only his great redeeming love made my Savior go.
	

And, if Jesus comes among us and shares with us flesh and blood, he also shares with us death: flesh and blood's nemesis, and our bitterest defeat. (In Adam all die, Paul says. "I tell you this, brethren: flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God.") But Jesus did "not think it robbery, he says in another place " to become like us - flesh and blood -- but did so willingly, so that we might be saved. How else can we say it? How better can we express this wonder? "He rolled up his sleeves…" "He was not too good…" "He did not lord his kingship over us." He didn't just call for recruits - he was the first to sign up.

We are very sensitive to people who put on airs. Nothing destroys relationships quicker than for one party to act superior to another. That party may be superior in many ways, but we won't associate with him, and he can't help us, if we feel he is lording his superiority over us. We have all experienced counselors who can't wait to pontificate - to give us their wisdom and show us how smart they are - when, in fact, they can't possibly know what's going on in our hearts. And they don't have to return to our situations. We've all known doctors who breeze into the room talking glibly about cutting us here or removing an organ there. They're not the ones under the knife! They're going to go home tonight, all of a piece!

When we are "scared to death of death," (and that includes all fears) we need someone made of flesh and blood, who knows what it is not to want to die (but who has overcome) to help us. Only he can understand. And that someone is Jesus. An alcoholic, often, can only be helped by another (sober) alcoholic. Top athletes are best coached by those who have competed themselves, who understand the pain and the pressure and have overcome. And people who are trying to stare down the grave need someone who has been there - and who has come out victorious. That is why it's important to say that Jesus shared flesh and blood with us. He understands our woes. And, if he can overcome, we (with his help) can overcome.

Marcus Dods likens Jesus to "a strong swimmer who carries the rope ashore, not only securing his own safety but providing for the rescue of all who will follow." Someone else said that Jesus is like the older brother, who has been everywhere and done everything, and he leads us through with love. And the author of Hebrews, in a wonderful picture, calls Jesus "the pioneer of our salvation." The pioneers went first. They suffered the most. Everyone who followed was encouraged by their feats, and had it easier because of them.

Three images of Jesus, then. Both describe one who shares our weaknesses and vulnerabilities and helps us through. The High Priest, who understands our pleas, because he is made of the same stuff as we, and, in spite of our unworthiness, presents us unblemished before God. The athlete who jumps into the water where we have to go, and are afraid, and arranges for our rescue. And the pioneer who breaks trails in the dismaying wilderness of sin and leads us to God, taking the brunt of the suffering upon himself. These are ways of talking about Jesus, and about how Jesus (by sharing our flesh and blood, our human condition) delivers us from the power of sin and death through his even-greater power. To those who believe the images are wonderful. To those who don't, they are gobbledygook.

Christmas is behind us and a new year is just ahead. We have come fresh from a miracle and now, sadly, must leave Bethlehem to face the world -- the real, mundane, everyday world. Like the Wise Men, like all who see Jesus, we return by a different way. What a good time to think about our lives. How shall we be different now that we have been to Bethlehem? Let us take a spiritual inventory. Two events occurring toward the end of this year, one world-wide in its implications, and the other personal, caused me to take stock and to rethink my life. September 11 changed us all. Life is short, it said, and can end very abruptly and through no fault of ours. Am I spending what time I have well? Are my priorities where they should be, or am I wasting time and energy on second-rate things? Within a week of the World Trade Center and Pentagon disasters, Congress debated and passed a budget for fiscal 2002. That's unheard of! Usually the budget debate takes months, is very bitter, and is often tied up for weeks by personal vendettas. But all those issues, which used to seem important, now seemed petty in the light of September 11. We began to appreciate policeman, firemen and rescue workers - not just a lip service this time, but a deep and true appreciation for who they are and what they do. We looked at our country, and at our fellow Americans, in a different light. Within hours, thousands of flags appeared. Within a few days, millions. It was as if we all wanted to say, "Listen, we know what a great country we live in and how fortunate we are to be here. Don't let our squabbling fool you. That's just part of a democracy. Behind the squabbling we are one. And we are proud of each other and of our country." Differences faded. Race and religion and political party were suddenly unimportant.

The other event which caused me to take stock was a personal one. As most of you know, our two-year-old grandson, Will, fell and broke his leg just before Christmas. There were some difficult hours that night, when the doctors thought he might have injured his neck, and they flew him by helicopter to Children's Hospital, and we didn't know what else might be wrong. After several hours, the x-rays and MRIs showed it was only the leg, and we were thankful for that. But, when the dust had settled, later that week, I found myself thinking about my life, distinguishing between what was really and truly important to me…and what I just said was. What's the bottom line for me? What would I drop everything else to do? What would I spend my last dollar on? And family, of course, was right up there at the top of the list. And so was my faith, for faith sees us through such ordeals. A lot of other concerns, things that used to worry me and take a lot of my time, fell down in the rankings. I reordered things.

The author of Hebrews, in this morning's lesson, draws out the meaning of Christmas. God became flesh and blood - shared our natures with us - understands our sorrows and disappointments. He died, as only a flesh and blood human being can, and "by embracing death, taking it into himself, he destroyed the Devil's hold on death and freed all who cower through life, scared to death of death." Christmas says we are free from the twin powers of sin and death. How will that make us different? It should. It should make us different from the men and women we were before we heard the news, and it should make us different from others who have not heard it. Have we been touched by Christmas? Are we different now? How so?