Sooooo, on Sunday, I left my little clip-on microphone at home and couldnât record my homily (you wouldnât have been able to hear it). So, here it is. Re-recorded from the kitchen table this morning. Enjoy!
Readings: Isaiah 2:1-5 | Psalm 122 | Romans 13:11-14 | Matthew 24:36-44
Christ Lutheran Church in Aptos, CA
Throughout Advent, Iâm going to take us on a walk with Ebenezer Scrooge through his long Christmas Eve nightâGhost by Ghost, memory by memory, terror by terrorâuntil he wakes up Christmas morning completely transformed. Or, maybe, we might say... Resurrected:) The path will be lit by the weekâs Scripture readings. Itâll be theological jazz, so weâll see where it goes.
Letâs beginâŠ
Itâs Christmas Eve.
Ebenezer Scrooge is in his bed, curtains drawn tight, trying to convince himself that what just happened... Didnât. Just. Happen.
His old business partner, Jacob Marley, whoâs been dead for years, just paid him a visit. Ghostly chains rattling. Face disfigured and as gray as death. Warning him that three spirits would come before the night was through.
Scrooge pulls the blankets higher over his head. Squeezes his eyes shut...
âHumbug,â he mutters. But his voice trembles.
Something is coming. Something he canât control or calculate or lock away.
The clock strikes one. And the first ghost arrives.
Paul writes to the Romans: âYou know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep.â
This isnât a suggestion. Itâs an announcement. Not, âHey, you should wake up.â Or âitâd be really nice if you woke up.â But âit is NOW the moment.â
The alarm is ringing. The hour has come.
The problem is, most of us (like Scrooge) have been asleep so long weâve forgotten weâre sleeping. We think the bad dream is real life. We think the scarcity, the anxiety, the endless ledger-keepingâwe think thatâs just how things are.
Weâre sleepwalking through a party, convinced weâre alone in the dark.
And it takes a ghostâa spiritual encounter with something outside ourselves, something we canât controlâto wake us up.
The Ghost of Christmas Past doesnât look like youâd expect. In the most theologically definitive adaptation of this story (which is Jim Hensonâs Muppet version, obviously), sheâs gentle. Almost childlike. She takes Scrooge by the hand and says, âCome. There are things you need to remember.â (Pssst. If you hear echoes of the eucharist: âDo this in remembrance of me,â it means youâre listening:))
She doesnât scold him or lecture him.
First, she shows him his younger self: young Scrooge, lonely at boarding school while everyone else goes home for Christmas.
Eventually, she takes him to his first job, working for a man named Fezziwig.
This is where the story starts to really break open.
Fezziwig (my favorite character) is a business owner like Scrooge is now. But the way he holds his vocation is opposite.
Now, before we go much further, I want to be sympathetic to Scrooge. If youâve ever owned a business, you know the nightmare it can be - itâs all on you, working around the clock while employees clock out and head home. You try to be present with family but youâre lying awake at 3 AM wondering about payroll. That kind of anxiety is real. We canât make Scrooge the bad guy here, because Scrooge is all of us. We all have those things that curve us inward in self-protection and isolation.
But when Christmas Eve comes, Fezziwig doesnât let the anxiety win. He doesnât bicker about his employeesâ holiday pay or time off for Christmas. He pushes back the furniture, brings in a fiddler, prepares a huge spread of food and drink, and throws a party.
The Ghost asks Scrooge: âWhatâs so special about this? Itâs just a party. Fezziwig didnât spend much money.â
And Scroogeâthe man who counts every penny, who measures everything by profit and lossâScrooge says something true for maybe the first time in decades:
âHe had the power to make our service light or burdensome. A pleasure or a toil. The happiness he gives is quite as great as if it cost a fortune.â
See, Fezziwig didnât just employ people. He DELIGHTED in people. And that delight was contagious. It made the work different for everyone. It made LIFE different.
Young Scrooge danced at Fezziwigâs party. Young Scrooge knew what it felt like to be in the presence of someone who didnât measure worth by productivity. Who didnât calculate whether you deserved joy before offering it.
Young Scrooge knew grace. He tasted it. He danced in it.
And then⊠he forgot. Like we all do.
Jesus tells his disciples: âThen two will be in the field; one will be taken, and one will be left.... Keep awake. You do not know on what day your Lord is coming.â
We hear this line as a threat, right? Better be ready! Better be watching! Daddyâs coming home! Santaâs coming to town! Donât get caught slacking!
But what if itâs not a threat? What if itâs a joyous wake-up call?
When Jesus enters Maryâs womb, he enters the world of our forgetfulness. He meets us in our two-nessâour felt separation from God, from Life, from Joy, from our employees (or employers)âand shows us that God is one with us. Same flesh and blood.
We âdonât know the hourâ because weâve been asleep. Weâve forgotten what we once knew. Weâve been sleepwalking past the party, convinced weâre excluded from it. And maybe our fellow humans have done things that make this seem real. Some of us in this room HAVE been excluded because of the way we look, live, love, or whatever reason someone used to exclude us. But the only one who has the final word of excluding us from OUR lives... is us. When we sign on the dotted line of our exclusion... And so it is. And we fall asleep to what God has created us for: The fullness of life. Union. Wakefulness.
So maybe the Lord is coming, not as a thief to rob us, but as the Ghost of Christmas Past, showing us what weâve forgotten:
Maybe you remember it. Maybe once, when you were a kid, you ran through a sprinkler on a hot summer day and didnât think about anything except how good the cold water felt. Maybe you held someone you loved and for just a moment you werenât performing or proving or protecting yourself. You were just there. They drew you out of yourself and you felt fully alive. Fully present. Fully yourself.
You once danced at Fezziwigâs party.
Or go back even further, ontologically. Genesis 1. In the garden. Before the grasping. The hiding. Before the two-ness and the fear.
God makes humanity and calls us âvery good.â Not âwill be good if you try hard enough.â Or âgood as long as you behave.â Just good. Beloved. The apple of Godâs eye.
Thatâs our origin story. Belovedness. Fullness. Not scarcity. Not living from a ledger.
And then we forget. We all do. Our minds split into two-ness. We fall into a dream of separation from God, our Source, and experience fear, wounding. And then projection. And then... A whole fake world made from that fear.
The terror isnât that judgment is coming. The terror is that grace has already come, and weâve missed it because weâve been too busy counting our own little stash of coins.
Scrooge watches his younger self dancing. Laughing. Alive.
And then the Ghost shows him the moment it all changed.
The moment he chose the ledger over union with the girl he loved. The moment he decided that safety mattered more than joy. That control mattered more than connection.
The moment he fell asleep.
And when you fall asleep to grace, you donât just forget the party. You start to believe the party shouldâve never happened in the first place. That Fezziwig was foolish. That the REAL world is the one where youâre alone fending for yourself, where thereâs never enough, where you have to earn your place at the table.
Forgetting feels safer than remembering. Because if you remember the party, you have to face what youâve lost. What youâve refused. What youâve spent your whole life running from.
The Ghost of Christmas Past doesnât show Scrooge his worst infractions. She shows him his deepest loss.
She shows him the moment sleep took him from wakefulness. Twoness and separation drowned out connection and oneness.
But itâs not so easy to get ourselves out of this bind. Scrooge has to go through a very long night of the soul before he loses his life for the new life at hand. The Ghost takes Scrooge back to his bed. Leaves him there, trembling.
Heâs remembered. Heâs seen what he lost. Heâs seen the version of himself that once knew joy, and heâs seen the moment he traded it for a cold strongbox of coins.
And now he has to deal with that knowledge. Which might be the cruelest gift of all.
But thereâs another Ghost coming. And waking up is just the first step.
Soon, the Ghost of Christmas Present will arrive. And Scrooge is about to discover something even harder than remembering what heâs lost:
And that is, seeing what heâs missing RIGHT NOW. Seeing the party thatâs happening without him that has nothing to do with worldly resources.
But for today, weâre here. Advent. The season of waking up.
The alarm is ringing. The Ghost is at the door.
In a minute, weâll gather in front of this table. To taste. And remember.
This bread, this wineâtheyâre Fezziwigâs party in physical form. Grace saying: âYou once knew this. You danced here. And now, you dance again.â
And so it is. Amen.
BTW, hereâs a quick poll. Just curiousâŠ
Excellentâyour Magnum Opus!! Thank you. PS: Fezziwig was an Angel