"The first drops of Jesus' blood were to remember and recognize the promise HE had made with His people..."

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My friend Katy is a lay leader in my parish. I asked if she would deliver the homily for the final Sunday of Advent, and she graciously took up the challenge. She chose Luke 1.57-80 as the scripture.

Good morning.  My name is Katy Padilla and I am a member of this church and one of the co-chairs of our Staff Parish Relations Committee.  Our committee is in charge of making sure that the staff here at the church is taken care of, so initially I thought I’d tell you all that this is our gift to the staff - each of us on the committee would take on one of their jobs for the day.  But I didn’t want to worry the rest of my committee.

No, the truth is Jason asked me back in October if I would speak on one of the Sundays of Advent and I foolishly said yes.  And while I’m glad ot be here, I’m not exactly sure why I agreed to this.  I should say from the beginning that I am not a preacher, so this is not a sermon.  It’s a homily because I am simply a lay person.  This is an important distinction because my dad has mixed feelings about women preaching and he’s here in the audience today.  So on that note - let’s pray:

Holy Spirit, join us here and fill this space in a way that only you can.  Move in us and among us so that we may know your presence.  Breathe on us, life-giver and pierce our hearts that we may see you in new ways.  In your name we pray… 

It is interesting to think about how many times we tell and retell the Christmas story.  So many times that we convince ourselves we know it by heart - and yet there is always something new that pops out.  

First, can we acknowledge that the Christmas story is irrational?  I think that’s why we prefer to tell it like a children’s story.  I mean, we all know children’s stories don’t have to make sense.  Let’s be honest, something inside us knows it’s nonfiction but we tell it like a fairytale. 

 And for good reason!  The cast of characters is nothing like anything we’ve experienced or would choose for a story we proclaim to be true.

Mary as a virgin?

Old people suddenly getting pregnant?

Angels everywhere?

Dirty shepherds finding a baby in a manger and worshipping him?

Wise men traveling from a far off place because of a star they see in the sky?

Irrational!  And also, a little inappropriate.  

I’ve been a Sunday School teacher for years and every year, like clockwork, I get the same question - “Ms. Katy, what does virgin mean?”  Look I love teaching vocabulary, but that is one word I would prefer not to have to define again.  I let Merriam-Webster do the heavy lifting on that one follow the dictionary definition with a quick, “It’s a good word to bring up with your parents.  Let’s keep going with the story.”  

Or how about the part where Jesus is circumcised? We NEVER talk about that part of the Christmas story.  But why not?  It’s in the same section as the shepherd!  My dad said to be sure to include scripture today, so here’s a verse for today: 

Luke 2:21 “On the eighth day, when it was time to circumcise the child, he was named Jesus, the name the angel had given him before he was conceived.”  We never include that verse in any of the Christmas pageants I’ve seen.  

And I get it.  We don’t want to explain the circumcision part.  I was faced with this recently when my knowledgeable and curious son randomly yelled out to me from the other room (while playing a video game no less), “Mom!  Was I circulated as a baby?”  

“Do you mean ‘circumcised?’” I replied with a chuckle.  This led to a whole unexpected conversation on what happens after childbirth.

Again, I get not wanting to talk about it, but it’s kind of a big deal that Jesus, as fully GOD, is circumcised.  Circumcision is a physical sign of the covenant between God and His people.  It was a sign of His promise to his people - to be their God and to increase their offspring. 

So Jesus is the giver of the promise and ALSO a participant in the ceremonial remembrance of the promise. 

This ceremonial act is what clearly established him as a Jew here on earth. 

It also means the first drops of Jesus' blood was to remember and recognize the promise HE had made with His people - a people that he was now counted one of. 

Wrap your mind around that!  No, no, try and help a child wrap their head around that!  And if you do, let me know how it goes because I haven’t tried that in Sunday school yet.

Again, the story is irrational, inappropriate and a bit uncomfortable.  

But I also get why we don’t talk about it because we don’t necessarily understand what is happening in this naming / circumcision ceremony since it’s not part of our tradition.  Two of these naming ceremonies are part of the Christmas story, though.  First, John’s naming ceremony we read about today and then Jesus’ naming ceremony after the shepherds leave.  Both of them given names that did not have a family connection because they were given by the angel ahead of time.    

Now I have a confession.  I had this whole plan to bring my kids and their cousins up here to act out today’s scripture.  We would have done it with costumes and everything as if it was a part of the pageant.  I just hadn’t decided whether to make Peter play the part of Zechariah who couldn’t speak or the Rabbi who’s leading the ceremony.  Either way, one of them would come in holding a knife.  It would’ve been great!  Unfortunately, my sister had to delay their flight because the kids are sick, so you all were spared.  But I might talk to Christi and Katie about workshopping it for next year’s pageant.  

What I couldn’t have them act out, but wish they could is how beautiful the Jewish naming ceremony is.  Yes, the male child is circumcised, so there are baby cries, but being there as a witness to the whole ceremony gives you all the feels.  Traditionally, the rabbi comes to the house 8 days after birth to perform the circumcision and at that time the family shares the name of the child while also explaining the significance and connection to family.  Modern ceremonies might be slightly different now, and I’ve only been to one but I remember leaving feeling incredibly jealous of not getting to do something like that for our kids.  It was such a beautiful experience.

Little did I know I’d get to participate in an impromptu naming ceremony this summer.  Only this time for our dog - my “third child” as someone recently described her.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.  

See, I experienced my own irrational story over this past year.  Some of you were here when I brought the dog to church.  So you saw the end of the story.  What you didn’t see was how she got here.  And what you didn’t know is that I’m not a dog person.  So how did I end up with a dog from Arizona of all places?  I wish I had a simple, logical way to tell you, but it sounds so ridiculous every time I tell it.  Sigh…so here goes…

 It actually started at a Christmas party exactly a year ago today.  I unexpectedly found myself in a conversation with my friend’s mother, Julie, and her husband, Upton, who were visiting from New Mexico.  As we talked, I shared that I visit the White Mountain Apache Tribe each summer.  Come to find out, he was part White Mountain Apache!  He looked at me and said, “I’m getting chills.  No one knows White Mountain Apache.”  I didn’t know what to think myself and our conversation took off in a whole new direction.  While he hadn’t been back to White Mountain in awhile, we discovered that I had met his niece, Jina, just that past summer on our trip.  We marveled at what a small world it was and exchanged numbers in the hope of crossing paths again.

In early June, our paths did cross again in Albuquerque where we met for dinner.  Upton texted Jina while we were sitting there to let her know we had connected.  She immediately wrote back and said, “Ask her if she wants a puppy” and included a picture.  I smiled and said, “I do want to get dog for my kids when the divorce process is finished, but that might be for awhile!  Tell Jina I’ll check out the puppy when we’re there in two weeks.”  

Sure enough, on our first full day on the reservation we went to Orlando and Jina’s property and I met the little blue-eyed puppy.  I cannot say it was love at first sight as much as it was a clear “This is happening.” voice in my head followed by my internal voice freaking out.  From there it was just a matter of working out the details.  I came home to make a plan and prepare all the time unsure if this was really happening.  I refused to tell the kids because I didn’t want to make any false promises.  I also had to get myself together first.  I remember my friend taking me shopping at Petco to get all the necessary supplies and I just followed him around in stunned silence.  At one point he turned to me and said, “Are you okay?  You seem off.”  Of course I wasn’t okay!  We were in a pet store and I had no idea what to get!  I was preparing to fly my kids across the country to get a dog I had no idea how to take care of.  What was I thinking?!?  But I simply nodded, smiled and said “I’m fine” as we turned down the next aisle for food bowls.

The plan was to arrive in Arizona, rent a car to go up to the White Mountain Apache reservation, spend a couple of days with Orlando, Jina, and their family as well as with the dog and then start our road trip home with a dog.

In August, that’s what we did.  After revealing to my kids that we weren’t just in Arizona for vacation - that we were actually there to get a dog (insert sounds of joy) we enjoyed time with our new Apache family exploring parts of the reservation I had never seen before - learning about the land our new family member was coming from.  

We couldn't leave without a name, though!  Thankfully, Orlando is an Apache language teacher at the local school, so our last night, my kids and I started a short list of words we considered for possible names:

Joy

Freedom 

Companion

When we asked him early the next morning, Orlando thought about it and then delicately explained that there isn't a direct translation from one English word to Apache language. He could come up with an equivalent, but then we also have to consider whether it would work as a name. So many layers - which as a language specialist I love, but as a mom trying to find a good dog name, I had to let go of. Right then the puppy ran by and Orlando suggested another approach. 

"Let me tell you about her and see where that gets us. When she was born with the other puppies, she was nothing special - meaning, she didn't stand out among the litter. They all got sick with parvo, but she didn't get as sick as the rest. She stopped eating for a bit, but that was about it. She went around licking the other puppies and staying close to them while they were sick. I got really attached to one of the other puppies,” he confessed. “I just really enjoyed his personality and was looking forward to having him around. Unfortunately, he was one of the puppies that didn't make it. We did our best and Jina treated them, but only 3 survived. The rest we buried here on our property and promised to remember them. What was interesting to watch was that as each one passed, this puppy here started to take on their personalities. It's like she promised to carry them with her and in my eyes she moved up to the top - she turned out to be something remarkable. She's resilient and fierce in an unexpected, understated way. And if you watch her, she runs happy - her head is up when she runs and her tail is up and curled. But she doesn't run as much as she prances - she's like a dancer.”

He turned to Jina and asked, “What's a word that might encompass that?"

The two of them contemplated for a bit and then Jina suggested something that they tossed around and then both nodded in agreement.  And her name was officially born…Nylynn 

In Apache, Nylynn essentially means a young girl becoming a woman.  But Orlando was clear that it was not about beauty, it’s about fiereness and staying in the struggle to biome a strong, good woman.  Jina said many people give their daughters that name.  I smiled and said, “Nylynn it is!”  

As we were gathering Nylynn and saying our goodbyes, Mama dog stuck to us like glue. 

Orlando took a moment with Nylynn before we loaded her up. 

"Something else you have to know is that Mama dog came here looking for a better life for her puppies. When she showed up on our property it was clear that she had been through hell and about to give birth. She was clearly looking for a safe place to do it and we weren't set on letting her stay because we knew we couldn't handle a litter of puppies on top of the dogs we already had. But after 2 days we knew we couldn't let her go. She fought to find a better life for her puppy than she had experienced and she did it. These puppies have known nothing but love and kindness their whole lives and that's why we care so much about who we give them to. We're thrilled to give her to you all because we know she'll continue to get the love she knows. And that's what I just told her - where she's going everything will be new, but she'll know the same love she has here."

Mama dog stood looking up at me the whole time he was talking, so when he finished I bent down rubbed her head and ears and said, "Thank you, Mama. We've got her now and we'll take good care of her. You did it.”

And we did it. With the help of family and friends along the way, we safely and successfully drove our Nylynn from her birthplace to our home and then here to our church home. And while I wanted to share her with you all, there were no words to truly express what we had been through and how we had gotten her. I remember being so embarrassed by her barking in the atrium. When Jason brought us down front here I had that same shaky feeling I’d had in every significant moment since last December. Then I couldn’t even find the words to try to express how meaningful it was to bring her here, to this sanctuary to be among you all.  I don’t remember anything I said, but I do remember this - she licked my face.  I have never let a dog lick my face - did I mention I’m not a dog person?  But that was it.  Everything in one moment.  

As I reflected on our incredible and irrational journey this summer in combination with the Christmas story for today, I realized we had the same through line.  The same line that connected the dots in Jesus’ birth story was the same line that connected the dots in our Nylynn story.  The Holy Spirit. 

In my reading of Luke’s Christmas story this year, I discovered the Holy Spirit was everywhere. 

Start at Luke 1 and read all the way through Luke 2:40 and just count the number of times the Holy Spirit is mentioned.  I’m not going to give it away because it will give you something to do if you decide to stop listening to me (that was mainly for my son).  I will say this - it’s more than a handful.  

If you read through, you’ll notice several occasions where Luke says “the Holy Spirit was upon her” or “the Holy Spirit moved him.”  If you want to know who the main character is, the one who gets the most action in this story, it’s the Holy Spirit.  

I don’t know why I hadn’t seen it before. It was so glaringly obvious this year that the Holy Spirit was everywhere in the story.  I think sometimes I get so focused on the motley crew of characters that I forget that the Spirit was the one actively directing and connecting all of them.  

And to be honest, we don’t talk about the Holy Spirit that often outside of Christmas.  God the Father, Jesus the Son, yes - plenty.  The Holy Spirit?  Not so much.  And of course we don’t!  The Holy Spirit is irrational and unpredictable - wild you might say.  And that makes us wildly uncomfortable.

Simeon Zahl - pneumatologist (someone who studies the Holy Spirit) notes:

“There are a lot of metaphors for the Holy Spirit that are used, and a lot of them are personal. The Spirit is the comforter, paraclete, teacher, and sort of a personal agent. But actually a lot of the metaphors are of a natural force - fire, water, wind are really classic metaphors. So we have an entity that is both a personal agent and something like a force. Already there's a lot of mixed stuff. But I think one of the best ways to think about the Holy Spirit theologically and practically is basically that the Spirit is the presence of God in the world. When the Trinity does stuff in the world, the proper language for describing the agency of God is the Holy Spirit.  It’s where the rubber hits the road in human lives and in the world.”

The Bible describes the Holy Spirit being like the wind blowing any direction it chooses or like a fire which also moves in unpredictable ways.  Both of those descriptions are things that we can experience but not things that we can fully understand.  We enjoy a cool breeze when it’s hot and appreciate a warm fire when it’s cold.  But wind and fire are also destructive.  We know the damage they can cause.  The Holy Spirit may be called The Comforter, but being moved by the Holy Spirit might bring discomfort first.  

In fact, Simeon also describes the Holy Spirit’s actions as inducing birth pangs.  The Holy Spirit brings freedom, life, and creativity, but producing that also involves a certain amount of pain.  And this seems especially relevant to the Christmas story.  But also relevant in our own lives.  

It was certainly relevant in my life this year.  I cannot explain how we ended up with a dog.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve hesitated to tell people the story because they’d think I was crazy.  And they wouldn't be wrong!  It was crazy!  It is crazy!  And more than crazy, it was painful on several levels - and i’m not just talking about the puppy teeth.  It’s completely irrational and I can’t explain why I did it other than the Holy Spirit.  And that love is irrational.  

The Holy Spirit speaks the language of the heart.  This Spirit of God is very interested in our deep emotional lives and has a way of unearthing what’s happening deep inside of us and bringing it to the light.  And that is deeply uncomfortable and unnerving.

See, what stands out to us each time we revisit the Christmas story depends on who, what, where, when and how we are. And this is the beauty of stories.  We retell them to each other and to ourselves because the facts of the story don’t change - but we change.  So the way we understand them changes.  This is why God speaks to us in stories.  This is why these Bible stories that we hear in Sunday School and then hear again from behind the pulpit are new every time.  Even virginal you might say.  This IS how the word works.  

Stories are mirrors and windows.  Mirrors to reflect who we are when we are.  We resonate with characters when we see them in the light of our experience.  I could tell you about when Mary stood out to me as a teenage girl and again as a new mom.  Or when I was fascinated by the magi and where they might have come from when I was living in the Middle East.  Or how I marveled at the way Elizabeth received Mary with open arms as soon as she arrived with her unbelievable and truly crazy news.  I thought about all the women I run to when I’m afraid of being misunderstood.  Each time, a new reflection of what I was experiencing at that moment was seen in the image of an old, familiar character.

Stories as windows provide another view on a world we are dying to understand.  They give us a way to explore safely. And if you don’t believe me, ask any kid who walks around with a tattered book that is so lovingly used and beaten up that you wonder if it’s still readable.  Ask that child why they reread it so much.  They’re sure to say something similar to what I’ve heard, “I don't know. I just like it.”  But that’s not all of it.  

This was never clearer to me than last week when at bedtime my daughter discovered a water bottle had emptied in her backpack and soaked all of her books - and there were at least 4.  One was newly purchased from the book fair but all were familiar books that she had already read and reread more than twice.  “It’s all ruined!” she lamented and stormed off crying.  I laid the books out as best I could and went back to my list of work to do before the next day.  But soon after, I heard an electric motor punctuated by intermittent sobs coming from downstairs.  When I went to look, I found my daughter kneeling on the floor with a hairdryer blow drying her wet books in the hope of saving them while simultaneously sobbing at the fear of losing them all.  I sat next to her, pulled her body close so she could lay in my lap and stroked her hair with one hand while I held the hairdryer in the other blowing the wet pages in front of us.  It was not on my list of things to do that night and yet it felt like the most important task I was given.  Save the books.  Save the stories.  Save the characters that were helping her understand herself.  

What the child with the well-worn book won’t tell you or necessarily be able to articulate is that rereading that book brings comfort.  And joy.  They know what’s going to happen.  It’s not about discovering the ending, it’s about discovering details they missed before the ending appeared.  It’s about seeing characters from the beginning in light of the ending.  It’s about a window into a world that isn’t theirs, but gives them a glimpse into a world that could be theirs.

We all do it. We still reread books, replay movies, and rewatch shows.  It’s not about discovering the ending.  It’s about discovering more in light of the ending. 

That childlike need to relive our stories never goes away and we never grow out of, no matter our age. And why would we? We're all children. 

1 John 3:1 See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!

We’ve been named.  Our Father has identified us as His children.

So whether or not the Christmas story is a children's story doesn't matter. We read, retell and revisit it AS children who already know the ending. And in the process some part of it pierces our heart in a different way or maybe the same way each year. The Holy Spirit, the very presence of God, moves within us to hold up the mirror or open the window for us to see it in a new way.Through a well known story, the Holy Spirit finds a crack in our grownup armor and enters into our brokenness in the same way Christ entered into our broken world.  With light, tears, and a whole lot of love. And somehow the irrational, illogical and uncomfortable story makes sense. 

I can't tell you what that will be for you this year.  I didn't even know what it was for me last year until this year! I can only witness to say that the same Holy Spirit that moved hearts for Jesus's unconventional birth still moves hearts today in wildly illogical and unexpected ways.  To bring life and comfort and joy through undesired birth pangs.  Praise be to God.  

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