[Reading of part of the Christmas Story from Luke]

It has been several months since I have preached here or lectured anywhere for that matter. Most of my invitations to speak to groups come to me in my role as a psychologist. Most recently I spoke on the behavioral management of difficult residents of nursing homes to a group of nurses and nursing aids. I think of this because of the title that I gave my sermon for this morning. Signs of hope. It is easy for people who work in nursing home settings to forget to see the signs of hope that surround them. They are so often overwhelmed by the signs of despair. They see the loneliness and isolation and don't see the valued and important reminiscences of their residents. They see the pain and disability of patients and don't see the many persistent personal struggles to be as independent as physically possible. They see the physical decline and mental failings of their charges and don't often see the spiritual and psychological fortitude of valiant spirits in the face of painful challenges.

I do not mean to deny that it is a great personal and family tragedy when someone finds, sometimes against their will, that they have to move into the nursing home. I get referrals both for people already in the nursing care sections and also for people in the apartments or in the personal care sections of the retirement communities I visit. When I get referrals in personal care or in the apartments one reason I am called is because the person is at risk for failing at their current level of independence. Someone, a social worker, a family member, a physician, another care giver, may have said they should move to the nursing wing from personal care, or to personal care from an apartment. It is a great pleasure when my involvement provides the extra bit of emotional support, or a needed re-evaluation that may keep my new clients where they are. For me this is one place where I focus my hopefulness as a psychologist. Providing the help to these often despairing individuals that allows them to organize and make the most of the strengths and skills they have is a tremendously valuable professional experience.

In the midst of despair and tragedy there is hope. This is the case in many places and in many ways in our world, in our nation, in our congregation and in our personal lives. This has been the situation throughout human history. It certainly was the situation when Jesus was born. Indeed, as we christians know, Jesus birth is the historic paradigm of hope in the midst of despair.

We have all been thoroughly instructed about the political and economic situation of the time of Jesus' birth. I know, because I heard it from my father, and I know that after ten plus hears here he has told it to you many times. But let me review.

Jesus was born a Jew in Palestine during the time when it was a territory occupied by Roman forces and ruled by a puppet governor in the name of Rome. Policies and governmental actions were influenced by competing forces including some that were exclusively Jewish - pharisees and Sadducees. Nevertheless, the fact that Jews had some limited political influence does not take away from the fact that this was occupied territory and the Jews were not free.

As it says in Luke Ch 2, vs 1 "a decree was issued by the Emperor Augustus for a registration to be made throughout the Roman world." There were plenty of revolutionary efforts by the occupied population -- as history tells us they were never ultimately successful. There were also many actions on the part of the Roman occupational army that intended to intimidate and put down any resistance, including the barbaric practice of hanging people on a piece of lumber until they died from exposure and whatever wounds they had received during their arrest or capture.

While there were some of the captive population that prospered by colluding with their oppressors, most of the occupants of the land were poor. They suffered tremendously from the many Roman attempts to control and intimidate them, attempts that not only included the use of the cross, but also included Roman sanction for a territorial governor to do something as immoral and barbaric as slaughtering all the male baby's in Bethlehem of a given age. They were even more and regularly oppressed by the taxes that financed the occupation of palestine, Roman excesses back in the Roman homeland and other Roman attempts to conquer other lands.

The time was ripe for revolutionaries and the nurturing of nationalistic zeal. The hopes of the people were on the coming of the Messiah, though many misunderstood the promises of the Torah, expecting a political, nationalistic messiah who would produce a temporal ethnically defined kingdom in which the Hebrew people would again have a free and independent nation and would destroy their oppressors militarily and of course anyone else who opposed them.

What God sent was a surprise. God sent a baby. A baby who would not bring successful military conquests, but the promise of everlasting peace. Hope in the midst of despair. God in the form of an infant. It is a simple small sign of hope. The birth cry of a baby. The simple cry of baby Jesus. But in response the shepherds were awed, the angels sang, and great kings travel many miles.

We have despair in our world. Each morning I read the Philadelphia Enquirer and read of this despair. Let me read the lead paragraph in a story entitled "Oh little town of ... Christmas Politics" in yesterday's paper.

"Bethlehem, West Bank -- Take two scrawny pine trees and some tinsel, stir in several hundred Israeli police and a circling helicopter, add a pinch of El Al security guards with wires running down their sleeves and a few thousand Palestinian bagpipers and drummers who sang of Saddam Hussein more often then Santa Claus or Jesus Christ. Toss in a Palestinian flag or two and a handful of bewildered pilgrims, and it's a recipe for a fruitcake of a Christmas in the town where the Prince of Peace was born."

There are always other stories on this page like this one and worse that tell of the despair in our world. The people of Somalia starve while their well fed warlords fight a battle of wills with the great nations of the world. In the former Yugoslavia the repetition of ancient racist battles take precedence over good sense and former comrades and citizens kill each other for the sake of nationalistic ambition. In Russia the people have empowered yet another dangerous leader for the sake of racism and nationalism and the pathetic wishes for a return to the transient pleasure of high international status. Old fights between Palestinian and Israeli in the middle east, between black and white in south Africa and between moslem pakistani and hindu Indian regularly flair up and death and destruction repeat their ugly cycle. Poverty rules in Haiti, in Honduras. Disease is rampant in Kenya, in Thailand. We have despair in our world.

Somalia, Bosnia-Herzogovenia, Russia, and many more. Other nations are imperiled and endangered and are not of sufficient national interest to make our papers. We have despair in our world. The despair seems overwhelming. It seems irreparable. We are ineffective in the face of it's breadth and depth.

And yet there are signs of hope. Small signs of hope. Susan and I were privileged to be very peripherally involved in the new Crafts of the World shop west of the city. It is a shop that stocks MCC self help crafts. The story behind each of the crafts available at this and other stores of this sort is that of a group of impoverished but skilled people in an area bereft of economic opportunity getting together under the temporary sponsorship of MCC to produce useful and decorative crafts. It serves as a place to start.

I had often been puzzled in past years that the crafts seemed fairly transient. One year there would be an available product of one sort and next year it would be gone. I found out this year why this is. The philosophy of MCC is to start a producing unit of some sort and to help them find their own network of buyers in the regular business world. Once started and integrated into this network MCC leaves the group and goes on to find another group of unoccupied skilled people without opportunity. I found myself very moved by this pattern and pleased to be able to help by doing some of my Christmas shopping from this selection of crafts. I also am tremendously pleased to be associated as a Mennonite with this Mennonite sign of hope in our despair filled world.

There is despair in our world. But sometimes we hear the lingering hopeful sound of that baby's cry. As the angels sang, in Luke 2 vs 14:

Glory to God in highest heaven, and on earth his peace for men on whom his favor rests.

The Baby Jesus cried and the shepherds were awed, the angels sang, and great kings traveled many miles. We still hear that cry today.

There is also despair in our nation. The nightly news is full of despair: A house burns, a car crashes, a child is killed by a gun born by another child, another mother deserts her children in order to chase the transient relief of a drug induced high. It is scary to live in our world today.

Let me read some headlines in yesterday's Metropolitan Area News in Brief in the Philadelphia Inquirer: Man found shot to death at SW Phila apartments. Man found fatally stabbed inside West Phila. home. Trevose carwash, worker robbed of more than $200. Man found shot to death on sidewalk in W. Phila. This was just yesterday in just one of our nations large cities.

Most areas with high populations are infested with the violence and destruction brought by crime and drugs. And if the many man made disasters are not enough there is still the lingering memory of the destruction of floods in the midwest and fire storms on the west coast. In the midwest families are still cleaning mud out of their basements. That is when the have a basement to clean. Many people were wiped out and have to start all over again due to the wrath of the rivers. In the west coast many acres and many houses were burned by brush fires that went out of control. Many people can rebuild, but some cannot. There is despair in our nation.

There is crime and violence, there are floods and fires. There are tragic accidents that end or unalterably change the lives of innocents. We are overwhelmed, we are frightened. We feel helpless in the face of the suffering. And yet we still experience hope.

I had an minor encounter with one of those unexpected events several years ago. I was working at Neuman Medical Center in Fishtown at the time. Those of you who know Philadelphia will know that to get from Fishtown where I worked to East Falls where I live you have to pass through North Philadelphia. Many of you are aware too that this area of town has more than its fair share of ethically challenged opportunists who would be more than happy to take advantage of a lone stranger. It happened one evening after working a fairly long and strenuous day that I was rushing home from work and a car jumped a red light and pulled directly into my path. I couldn't avoid it. I had an accident at the corner of 12th and Lehigh. It was a loud crash and within minutes there were about 100 or more people on the street looking at what was probably the most exciting event of their day. It certainly was mine. Now in most cases one is safe in a large crowd of people like this, even when one's ethnic origin differs from everyone else around. Even for me, who spent my first 11 years in the south Bronx, the disparity was fairly striking. But I noticed something that made me almost completely relax, at least as much as one can when one's car is bashed into the front tires. It seems that my accident happened at the same time as the Wednesday evening service was letting out at the local Baptist Church. Not only were there at least 25 brothers and sisters in Christ among the throng, but one of the churches deacon's happened to also be employed by a body shop and offered to have my car transported there where I could leave it until the next day and even get an estimate if I was inclined. It is a small sign of hope that on the same corner the name of which brings fear to our hearts is also a place of worship where the faithful are present on wednesday evenings and serve as an active force for good in their community.

I was pleased to see yesterday that I have others that agree about the high value of the practice of our faith. William Raspberry reports that "... Dennis Praeger, a Jewish talk show host, has proposed a test for those who insist that religion serves no useful public purpose." This is the test: "Imagine that you round a corner one dark night and come face to face with four or five strapping young men. Can you honestly say you wouldn't feel safer if you knew they had just left Bible study?"

There is despair in our nation. But sometimes we hear the lingering hopeful sound of that baby's cry.

As Simeon said in Luke 2, vs 29 to 32 when he held the baby Jesus:

This day, Master, thou givest thy servant his discharge in peace; now thy promise is fulfilled. For I have seen with my own eyes the deliverance which thou hast made ready in full view of all the nations; a light that will be a revelation to the heathen, and a glory to thy people Israel.

The Baby Jesus cried and the shepherd's were awed, the angels sang, and great kings traveled many miles.

There is despair in our congregational life here sometimes too. It is not like the other desperate straits I've mentioned today, but it is real. We do not have a pastor at present. We have no single person to depend on to preach every Sunday, to support us personally when we run into times of trouble, and to serve as a symbol of the active care the people of God give to each other. It is a state of affairs that has been more frightening to some of us in past months then at present, because we are now aware of the many small signs of hope that have made our situation not only tolerable, but downright comfortable, at least for the time being.

The signs of hope are simple and they are real. Beth Rush for signing up speakers from sunday to sunday, for making sure the bulletin is there each sunday morning, for leading worship sometimes and for doing the many other things that she does, but that I don't know about to keep this congregation running. Doug Duram and Dan Preston for leading worship when their turn comes up. Laurie Duram for being available to provide special music. Ann Bond for pressing the group to have a special time outside of our sunday morning service for prayer and worship. Nancy Wassen for making sure the piano sings God's praises every Sunday. Sue Herbine who has been willing to do work on the search committee and a great deal of it. Doc Kraus for being here many Sunday mornings, even under conditions of great hardship, when Alice is sick at home. All of you, I can't mention everyone individually, for the task or tasks you have done to keep this congregation viable and for maintaining the loyalty to this group and the hope that this congregation still serves and will continue to serve as a conduit of God's love and care despite our present state of deprivation. You are the signs of hope in the midst of our transient despair.

And we all do what we do because of that baby's cry. Jesus birth cry rang out to the ends of the earth. And we are still awed, we still sing, we are still drawn over miles and miles. That cry is heard today. It is a cry of hope, a declaration of God's eternal caring and love for you and I. God loved us so much that he came to a world of despair and submitted himself to an earthly life surrounded by the signs of despair and in so doing we have been given the paradigm, the prime example of hope on which all other hope rests. As it says in another biblical context in a sometimes overused and trivialized passage, but one that speaks truly and you will recognize it without reference and in an unfamiliar translation:

God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son, that everyone who has faith in him may not die but have eternal life. It was not to judge the world that God sent his Son into the world, but that through him the world might be saved."

This is the real gift of Christmas. This is our greatest sign of hope. We can despair at the commercial holiday, the tinsel and, as one patient once called it, the bells and whistles of the secular holiday. But we can also enjoy the bells and whistles and know while we do that our celebration goes deeper than the brief party that is the marginally valuable american holiday season.

We can also continue to be compassionately aware of the despair and pain in our own and others lives during this time. We face hopelessness and despair in our personal lives at times, and I would like to conclude today with a story of how one sister found strength to face an experience of great personal despair. I tell this story with her permission, since she has been one of my patients, and I would like to remind you that I go to four nursing homes now and have gone to 3 or 4 others in the past, so that you know that I wouldn't tell stories from therapy that would identify a patient in any way, and certainly not without permission.

It happened that this woman had a fall while living in an independent setting, and had to move to the nursing care wing for a period of time. It was not known whether she would recover sufficiently to return to her previous level of independence, though we know now that she did and she's doing very well. But during this time she was in great psychological pain and despairing of her future on earth. In addition to the normal deprivations of the nursing wing -having to share a room, having to be helped with one's most personal activities, there was also construction going on close to this persons' room, leading to a great many interruptions in the normal course of care.

One evening she was feeling particularly badly. She had a roommate who was worse off than her, and had to have help with all of her unmentionables. At the worst time of this particularly bad evening my patient was laying unattended in bed while her roommate was getting some very unpleasant care that she was protesting loudly. My patient did not think that she could feel any lower. But out of the corner of her eye she noticed a small movement. It was a mouse. The mouse was traveling in short scurry's as mice do across the floor at the base of her bed. She watched the mouse. She watched it as it moved over close to the feet of the oblivious aids behind her roommates curtain. She watched it explore the floor, presumably for a place to stay after being displaced by the construction. She watched it, and for a few brief moments she forgot about her despair. In telling me this story she says God sent that mouse to take her mind off of how badly she was feeling. I agree. God sent her a mouse to comfort her in the midst of her despair just as God sent us his son to rescue us from the misery and despair of this transient and futile world.

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