New Year's resolutions can be a very meaningless exercise unless you take seriously the awareness that we really can change ourselves by conscious decision.  This sermon addresses the substantive need to take personal responsibility for the path we are following.

Once you accept that the Christmas story as recorded by Matthew and Luke in the New Testament is not a reporting of history then we are left to wonder what the point of these mythical stories is. Clearly, far from the sweet manger scenes we have heard way too much about, this is an account of the government and religious leaders conspiring to murder the god-child by killing all of the babies in a region around Bethlehem. This is a story of a new hope born to the poor who lived in an occupied nation in which the state church is in an alliance with the state, either by active cooperation or through indifference. So, these are not history lessons. If we pay attention, the Christmas story is a mirror held up for us to see that we live in a country where the government locks thousands of migrant children into dog cages, sexually abusing some, torturing others, and allowing many to die while the church is largely compliant and silent. And we seriously wonder if this government might actually win election approval from poor church goers in a few months. Merry Christmas?

In many ways, religion resembles a long-running, uncontrolled social experiment on the human condition and social change. And a moment’s reflection reminds us that all cultural, including religious, systems, have been used to justify everything from the terrifying to the sublime. Dorothee Solle called this the “double function” of religion: “as apology and legitimation of the status quo and its culture of injustice on the one hand, and as a means of protest, change, and liberation on the other hand.” Discerning which is which, and acting accordingly, is essential if we want our present troubles to be birth pangs of a new world, rather than the death throes of humanity.

How you feel about hope likely depends on your own experiences and circumstances. It’s been portrayed as both salvation and delusion, and many things in between. Navigating hope and hopelessness, grief and despair, rest and apathy, action and futility, is something of a craft and an art. It is also why the words don’t always fit, because we are often at different places on this messy spectrum of grieving, healing, acting, or giving up. What is it that keeps us from giving up, giving in, or standing idly by while honestly facing the devastating challenges of the day?

The congress of leaders of world religions, meeting in September, drafted a resolution trying to imagine the ways in which spiritual communities might become part of the solution to the crisis of a world that is literally "tumbling" out of order. With the threat of modern wars, the potential of nuclear disaster, the collapse of the environment, and the growing refugee crisis, the traditional religions which have too often been a part of the problem must now undergo a substantive revolution themselves if they are to be a part of the solution.

The holidays call for family reunions for both happy and healthy families as well as families who find these times together to be emotionally difficult. We have a right to be honest about both our family's strengths and weaknesses. We have a right to tell our own stories, even if the story turns out to be horrific. We can all choose to work towards more healthy and more loving family connections as we also choose to pass the good stuff onto our kids while sparing them some of negative baggage of our family history.

Human Rights Watch recently observed that “The US is the only UN member country that has not ratified the international treaty on children’s rights. Most people might think this isn’t such a big deal because the US is good to children. But it turns out we aren’t and our state laws don’t help.” Today’s anniversary of adoption of the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child is an opportune moment to reflect on some of the reasons why the US has resisted ratifying the Convention, the cruel realities still faced by many of our children, and the importance of cultural transformation in opening up a way where children’s rights, dignity, and humanity are finally honored.

In 1879, Gerard Manley Hopkins celebrated a row of trees and grieved that they had been cut down. His grief expanded from those trees to the hubris of humanity, elegantly and painfully describing how quickly we alter the living world of which we are a part – often to its (and our own) devastation. Though our worlds are different, his voice remains relevant in a society dominated by the violent accumulation of wealth and power. We must continually turn to voices and cultures that remind us that care must be taken, and will be taken, if we are to enjoy living in societies that support the wellbeing and joy of all their members.

The trend started years before the pandemic, before, even, the traumatic divisions caused by the Trump administration. Sociologists are doing verbal gymnastics trying to explain why making and keeping friends has become so difficult in this era. Maybe it is partisan politics, maybe it is just too much self-revelation on social media, and maybe even it is the break down of the mainstream churches or the trend towards working remotely but whatever the cause, it surely isn't something about which we should be passive. In a world in which close friendships are increasingly rare, we should all realize that we are not merely passive passengers in this train of anti-social change. Let's pause to think about what we have lost and endeavor to become the kind of people who are deserving of the trust and depth of character that makes friendship possible.

Of course, we would all like to end the partisan bickering in Congress as well as around our own family dinner tables! But at what price? When are we reaching a healthy compromise and when are we just surrendering, giving away our closely held values and beliefs? Peace, without justice, is really just surrender.