Audrey Hepburn and Emmanuel; John 1:19-42

 

Rev. George Miller

January 4, 2026

John 1:19-42

 

First, let us start by giving thanks to Andrew Richardson who had the vision of doing a presentation on “The Carole of the Bells” and the comfortable confidence to ask if he could share his knowledge with us.

 

Wisdom is a gift and a light to the world, and to share that light instead of holding onto it is a gift.

 

That’s what John the Baptist did.  He shared the news about Jesus before folks even knew who Jesus was.

 

John was brave, a witness before witnesses, telling people things they did not know or wanted to hear.  He knew who he was, who he was not, and like Andrew today, he used his voice and knowledge.

 

Andrew took us to Ukraine with images of good harvest, happy birds, and prosperity, then reminded us of their current reality of rubble, resistance, and occupation.

 

John stood in a wilderness during a time of Roman occupation, crying out so that people could learn a new kind of resistance, one based on the ways of heaven, and the healing that came the Son of God.

 

John is the Gospel narrative we are following from now until April.  It’s a deeply poetic, philosophical exploration of Jesus that differs from the directness of Mark, the ruralness of Matthew, and the inclusiveness of Luke.

 

Today, I’d like to share an image from pop culture that’s illuminated my experience of Christmas.

 

Last month Viktor and I were trying to figure out what to watch.  No current films appealed to us, so we opted for something classic- Audrey Hepburn.

 

“Breakfast At Tiffany’s” with all its style, smartly written dialogue, and of course “Moon River.”

 

Watching someone from another country experience influential American culture for the first time is a treat.

 

Next was “Roman Holiday.”  Wow- the vistas, the hair, the romance.  The teary-eyed ending. 

 

“Roman Holiday” starts with Audrey Hepburn as Princess Ann, being greeted by dignitaries.  She is standing above the people in uncomfortable shoes and gown.

 

Powerful people come to her and bow.  She is poised, still, perfect, and absolutely bored.

 

Later, she sneaks out and spends a glorious 36 hours out and about the city of Rome, pretending to be a regular person, gallivanting around with Gregory Peck.

 

She smokes, sips champagne, goes to the local market, buys shoes, enjoys gelato, has her hair cut, falls in love, gets into a bar fight, swims the Tiber River.  In the process she learns more about the people, herself, and why her role as Princess is so important.

 

At the end of the movie, Princess Ann stands before the people, still stylish but more casually dressed; her hair much shorter, her shoes more comfortable.  She answers questions, she is engaged.

 

After having this lived, embodied experience, Princess Ann does something different.  She says “I want to the meet them,” and chooses to come down the stairs, standing level with the people.

 

The Princess now is the one going up to the individuals, shaking hands, asking their name, acknowledging their presence.

 

Because now she sees them, she really sees them, she relates, she has an understanding.

 

Princess Ann could have stayed forever on top of the stage, far from everyone, only approached, but never approaching.  But once she has a fully lived, embodied experience, her relationship with everyone changes forever.

 

“Roman Holiday” has given me a new insight into the Gospel of John and the Christmas narrative.

 

The idea we have that God made a choice.  That God decided.  That God chose to come to us wrapped into human flesh.

 

Not as a governor or a millionaire, nor royalty or wealth, but as a child, born of a woman, into an unusual circumstance, without the comforts of stability or certainty.

 

We journey back to Bethlehem and understand that instead of God being an abstract idea that could only be experienced in contained quarters of the Temple, God through Jesus can be experienced at weddings and wells, under fig trees and beside the tombstones.

 

The knowledge that God enfleshed would choose to sit beside us at a community event, ensuring the wine does not run out and calls out to us when we are sobbing in the garden, is a powerful notion. 

 

Because through our journey Back to Bethlehem we discover that God made known to us in Jesus, our Emmanuel, is not from far off, but close to us, beside us.

 

That Jesus as the Word made flesh would want to share in our adventures, in our tears.  Sharing the Lord’s light and joy of life.

 

For that, let us say “Amen.”

Fed At the Bosom Of God; John 1:1-18

 

Rev. George Miller

Dec 28, 2025

John 1:1-18

 

Christmas Day we shared a sacred meal at the Communion Table; next week as the New Year starts, we return to the Table to be fed again. 

 

To all who made the journey Back to Bethlehem, the Lord’s Table is a sign of welcome. Inclusion.  AGAPE LOVE.  Where those who hunger are fed, those who thirst are quenched.

 

Are you hungry for life everlasting- come to the Table.  Are you hungry for fair play and kind words- come to the Table, where we are nourished, and it is God through Jesus the Son who feeds us.

 

Eat, drink, rest, then after you are fed with our Father’s heavenly food- go and do likewise; nourished.

 

After weeks of making our way back to Bethlehem, we are finally introduced to Jesus.  But John has a different focus than Matthew or Luke.  He does not focus on Jesus the baby, or Jesus the son of Mary.

 

John focuses on Jesus as the Word.  The Word who was with God; is God.  The Word that slips into human flesh to become one of us: Emmanuel.

 

In today’s reading, John does something amazing; gone relatively unnoticed, missed by the minds of men for hundreds of years.

 

In verse 18, John states “It is the Only Son, himself God, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.”

 

Except, there’s a mistake in the English translation.  The Greek word is not “heart,” nor is it “side” as other Bible’s state.

 

The correct Greek word is “bosom.”

 

“It is the Only Son, himself God,  who is close to the Father’s bosom.”

 

Heart/Side/Bosom.  An important difference;  ask anyone who has breast fed a child.

 

What we have here is not a generic  image of Jesus the son being held by God; we have the image of Jesus the child being breast fed by God.

 

Let that sink in.  John is telling us that Jesus dwells at the bosom of God, where Jesus is nourished by God.

 

This powerful understanding of the original Greek text comes from Professor Karoline Lewis, a teacher at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, MN.

 

In her commentary of John, Dr. Lewis explores the meaning of bosom in John.  Up until 1750, a prevalent image was of baby Jesus being nursed at the breast of Mary, an image used to symbolize the grace of God.

 

Think of the image- Jesus being nursed by Mary representing love, closeness, tenderness.  AGAPE. 

 

It is an intimate experience of a parent feeding her child, holding that child in their arms, looking upon their face, heartbeat near the baby’s ears.

 

This image represented God as provider, sustainer, nourisher.  The image of Jesus being fed at Mary’s bosom was a way to let believers know that God will provide.

 

Isn’t that what God did with bread and quail in the dessert?  Isn’t that what Jesus did with loaves and fishes in the wilderness?

 

All these stories, these images- of God who is Father who feeds us when we are hungry, who feeds the Son.  No wonder in Isaiah 55, the prophet  called all who hunger and all who thirst.  It’s God’s very nature.

 

This image of Jesus being at God’s bosom finds its reflection in the Last Supper.  In John 13 the beloved disciple rests upon Jesus’ bosom.  Chapters 1 and 13 are the only times the word “bosom” is used in John.

 

Who is this BELOVED ONE?  No one knows.  What if…that unnamed disciple is meant to represent you, represent me, meant to represent us?

 

Then we have a deeper image of Jesus, at the very beginning, being nourished at the bosom of God, and us, at the end of his ministry, being nourished at the bosom of Jesus.

 

It’s a shame we lost that image.  Cultural shifts took place,  modern medicine began to see the body as a thing, pop culture sensationalized normal practices.

 

Eventually the universal church  began to take away the image of Jesus at Mary’s breast, to be hidden away and forgotten.

 

Male scholars who translated the sacred texts could not image God having a bosom, nor breastfeeding, so they changed the word to mean “side” or “heart”.

 

In doing so, we lost a delicate  image of God that could have made all the difference.  Imagine if we still had this image of intimacy, nourishment, and tenderness.

 

But here is the Good News- thanks to the work of Rev.  Lewis we know this now, and with this knowledge, we have been granted an opportunity-

 

To see and talk about God as the Heavenly Parent who nourishes.

 

To worship believing this to be so.

 

To share God’s AGAPE love with those who hunger, those who thirst, be it our neighbors or those as far away as Biloxi or North Dakota, or even as close as ourselves.

 

What a joy it has been to journey Back to Bethlehem. 

 

Next week, as we come to the Lord’s Table let us hold onto this image of Christmas nourishment and a parent’s eternal love. 

 

Amen and amen.

Fig Tree or Footpaths, We Are Worthy; Luke 2:8-20

 

Rev. George Miller

Dec 25, 2025

Luke 2:8-20

 

One of the best sermons I ever heard was based on John 1:43-51.  Jesus is calling the 1^st disciples, one of them is Nathanael, who has been sitting under a fig tree, alone.

 

The preacher spoke about how Jesus is there for us those moments when we think no one else is; those times of solitude, reflection.

 

This message heard 20 years ago is so powerful that it shapes and speaks to the reading for today.

 

Here we have this beloved scene told so often about the shepherds in the field who have angels appear and go on a journey to Bethlehem to see the Holy Family, sharing what they have been told.

 

How it ties into Nathaniel under the fig tree is manyfold.  First, the shepherds are in a countryside location, about 2 miles away from where the miracle of Baby Jesus has taken place. 

 

Like Nathaniel, all alone under the fig tree, they are not surrounded by buildings or highways, St. Louis Bread Companies or Schnucks, but by rolling limestone hills, shallow valleys, and clumps of hardy grass.

 

The fact that the angel of the Lord stands before them and angels appear is amazing.  It means that among the footpaths worn out by their walking, the caves used for shelter, and the few trees spread out amongst the scrub, that God saw them, God knew they were there, and God felt they were worthy of receiving such Good News.

 

Second, the shepherds are not in the middle of mainstream activities. They’re not shopping with the masses or enjoying a movie or a musical at the MUNY.

 

Like Nathaniel under the fig tree, the shepherds are relatively alone.  They are spread out.  They are, in some ways…invisible. 

 

The shepherds are among the class of people that go unseen, the way we may not pay attention to the people who take our garbage or collect the chopping carts.

 

Yet God sees them, God does not allow their unappreciated social status or solitude to get in the way from bringing them great joy, opening the heavens to them, and making them visible to the Blessed Child.

 

Third, just like Nathaniel, we do not know why God chooses them.

 

The angels could have first come to Ceasar Augustus or to Governor Quirinius.  But they don’t.  Instead of appearing to head politicians, they appear to the people.

 

The angels could have come to Zechariah the Priest and his wife Elizabeth.  But they don’t.  Instead of appearing in the Temple or to the Levites, they appear to everyday workers in the field.

 

The angels could have appeared to those who owned the fields, owned the herds.  But they don’t.  Instead of appearing to the captains of industry, the angels appear to the overworked, underpaid employees hoping to earn their daily bread.

 

Today’s story is one for any of us who has ever had that moment in which we are by ourself, we’re experiencing a dark night, we’re not amongst the crowds and cool kids, and we wonder “Do we matter?”  “Does anyone care?”  “Does God know about me?’

 

“Do I make a difference.”

 

In other words, today’s story is for anyone who knows what it is like to sit under a fig tree, alone.

 

And the answer is “Yes.”

 

Yes we matter.   Yes, God cares.  Yes, God knows about you. 

 

We journey back to Bethlehem, reminded how magnificent the Christmas message is.

 

God loved the world so much that even after the Commandments, the prophets, the miracles, God did not stop. God chooses to come to us in flesh, wrapped with the same skin we have, to dwell amongst us.

 

One miracle of Christmas is that God could have arrived to us in numerous ways, from a mansion to a King’s quarters, as the son of a prominent star to the child of the world’s richest person.

 

Instead God chose to come to us humble, mild, vulnerable, with parents that could have easily been overlooked, born in a place where city officials could have kicked them out.

 

And that when God did appear in the fragile body of a child who had to be nursed, swaddled and given rest, it was to those who were alone, on the outskirts of town, simply trying to make it another day who the angels appeared to.

 

It was to those solitary individuals of the night in which the choir of heaven appeared and sung “Glory to God in the Highest and peace among those he favors.” 

 

That night that Christ was born, peace was given to those who had experienced the least amount of peace.

 

Glory was shown to those who were looking out at scrubs and thorny bushes.

 

The miracle of Christmas is how even those that the world may have forgotten were among the first to see and be told.

 

And how this miracle continues today, for anyone here, for anyone who may feel like they are sitting under that fig tree, alone, who has faced that long night, or was feeling far from the crowd.

 

Today’s tale is a celebration of the ways that God acts and reaches out to each and everyone one of us, all of us, even when we feel like we may be forgotten or are by ourselves.

 

We gives thanks for the birth of Baby Jesus, and how this glorious news is made known to all, no matter who we are and no matter what we are facing.

 

 Amen.

Remember Your Hill; Ezekiel 37:1-14

 

Rev. George Miller

Dec 7, 2025

Ezekiel 37:1-14

 

There is a memory I have; one that has always carried me through.

 

Growing up on Long Island, when it snowed, we went to a hill off the Long Island Expressway.

 

This was in the 70’s and 80’s at a time when folks didn’t worry so much about safety.  Whole families would be there, and their dogs, a truck selling hot cocoa, and cars driving by. 

 

Without a care, we’d walk up that snow-covered hill, place our sleds down, and whooshed down the hill at incredible speeds, careful not to end up in the service road.

 

Then you did it again and again.  Up and down; whoosh and stop.  Dogs running free.  Hot cocoa waiting for you at the bottom of the hill.  Parents taking photos.

 

Everyone wearing snow suits, being cold and sweating at the same time; snowflakes sticking to your skin, the sky filled with the sounds of laughter and glee.

 

Some used the round shaped snow saucers with the handles on the side. Or the Flexible Flyer with the rope you held onto and metal cross bar you steered with your feet. 

 

The toboggans long and slender, meant to hold multiple kiddos, so fast, impossible to steer, leading to tip-over, wipe outs, and “watch-out!” when you hit a bump.

 

I remember how we all became imaginary engineers, creating chains of sleds, holding onto one another like trains going downhill.

 

Heaven: nature sisters brothers mothers fathers friends strangers neighbors dogs snowflakes hot cocoa all coming together to make a memory, creating a sense of hope and peace when remembered.

 

A memory when things were just right, even if the danger of fast cars was nearby and the walk up that hill could seem so arduous.

 

But that woosh, that journey down that hill was so worth it.

 

One of the key phrases of the Bible is “remember”, appearing nearly 300 times

 

Psalm 77 speaks of remembering  how the Lord lead the people through the Red Sea, designed to give us hope when we come across a seemingly unsolvable situation.

 

Psalm 119:52 says “I remember your instructions…O LORD, and find comfort in them,” bringing a sense of peace into our existence when things seem unsteady.

 

Hope and peace are two of the Advent candles we lit today.  Hope gives us a path to walk upon as we journey Back to Bethlehem;  Peace provides the rhythm and pace.

 

Hope and peace are like hills we set our eyes upon that let us know we are closer to reexperiencing Emmanuel; the miracle of God taking flesh and being among us.

 

Though today’s reading places us in a valley of dry bones, we are going to talk about hills. 

 

Ezekiel speaks to the people of Judah who were kidnapped and living in Babylon. 

 

They came from a land of hills and vineyards, their Temple sat upon a mountain that sparkled in the sun. 

 

Now, where they live, everything is flat.  Devoid of purple and red grapes, and silvery green grapes. 

 

Instead of hills that are alive with life, they are seeing flat, treeless horizons.  And their hearts mourn.

 

So before discussing the dry bones, Ezekiel talks of mountains. In chapter 36, he does his best to fill them with hope and peace.

 

“Guess what!” he says to them.  “God has a message for the hills and waterways.  God has a word of hope and peace for the mountains and valleys of Isreal,.”

 

Oh, what it must have been like for the kidnapped people of Isreal to hear these words of restoration!

 

“One day, the mountains that you miss, the hills that now lay bare, will grow again.  There will be branches, and fruit.”

 

Ezekiel shares this hope-filled, peaceful vision of one day the people journeying back.

 

God will be with you.  Your land will flourish, your families grow; God will reunite the nations.

 

God says “I will gather you from throughout the world; clean you with water.  A new heart and spirit will dwell inside you.  I will feed you with grain of the field and fruit of the tree, and your sins will no longer have a hold over you.”

 

The final image is of the people being an expanding flock; beloved sheep of the Lord.

 

Upon reading Ezekiel 36, all I can think of is Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.

 

It’s like Ezekiel is saying “Remember your future.” 

 

Remember your future so that you can exist during this moment and you can find glimmers of hope and peace in this time and place.

 

It becomes a perfect lead-in to the image of dry bones gathered in the valley; bones that come from lost dreams and difficult times.

 

After being told to speak to the mountains and remind folk that one day the hills will be alive, Ezekiel speaks life into what has been seen as death; to bravely imagine that God’s breath can resurrect what was lost.

 

It is good to be reminded that the God who parted the waters of the Red Sea is the same God who can raise what is dry and despondent.

 

To Remember.  A grand thing to do as we journey back to Bethlehem.

 

Today, take a moment and think about a hill in your life.

 

Think about a hill where you experienced joy, you experienced peace.  Think of a hill that when you recall it, it gives you hope.

 

Could be a hill you’ve been to; a hill you’ve visited with family, a date, a vacation.  It can be small it can be big.

 

In the back of your bulletin, name that hill.  Jot down the memory.  Maybe you want to draw an image, create a hashtag, design a meme.

 

Now, we are invited to gently tear that spot from the page, treating it like the treasure it is.

 

You are invited to carry that hill moment with you as we journey back to Bethlehem, a reminder of how good life can be.

 

Let this image of that that hill be a way for you a way to think about what Jesus means for us, and what we expect to find when we make our way to the manger.

 

A memory of hope; a memory of peace.  May the mountains shout may the rivers sing.  May the hills come alive knowing that soon Jesus Christ will be born.    

 

Amen.

Go. Shine. Be You. Daniel 1:1-17

 

Rev. George Miller

Nov 30, 2025

Daniel 1:1-17

 

Woe to St. Lucas, a church of true sport fans.  Blues, Battlehawks, Cardinals.

 

Those who cheer for the Chiefs; Bulls, Bucks, Lakers, or Celtics. 

 

Conversations ignited by asking Mizzou, SLU, or Fighting Illini?

 

Woe to St. Lucas because you called a pastor whose sport of choice is Miss Universe.  That’s my Stanley Cup and Superbowl.

 

Miss Universe is huge in the gay and Latin Community.  You don’t have to worry about how the game is played, how to figure out the points, or keep asking the rules.

 

Miss Universe is attitude, glamour, great hair, diversity, and drama. 

 

On Nov 4, Miss Mexico and others walked out in protest when an official called her “dumb.”

 

Miss Jamaica was hospitalized Nov 19 after falling from the stage.

 

Then there are the individuals who capture the world’s attention with their whole, complete selves.

 

This year, the standout was Olivia Yace from Cote d’Ivoire.  With a Master’s in Marketing, she runs a foundation devoted to women’s health and education.

 

When asked what advice she’d give young women, Olivia said “Go into those rooms where you don’t belong, shine, and make sure you assume your identity.

 

Last week, Viktor’s Mom said “I offer you a coffee, a hug, and a happy day.”  Today, Miss Cote d’Ivoire says “Go. Shine. Be You.”

 

That’s another way of saying “Live as if Heaven is here, on Earth.”  This comes from woman who knows what it means to not be like all the others.  Just like Daniel, a youth from Judea who was taken as a captive to Babylon.

 

Following last week’s narrative, Judah was attacked.  Their Royal Court, Temple authorities, artists, architects, the elite and athletic are taken 900 miles away to Babylon.

 

This is the consequence of King Ahaz not trusting in God, siding with his human enemy, and the whole country living corrupt lives.

 

Daniel is among the top 15% of society who’s been kidnapped.  He’s deemed healthy enough, smart enough to be taken 900 miles away, but he’ll never see his homeland again, reenter the doors of the Temple, or taste toasted ravioli or gooey butter cake again.

 

Daniel and his peers are taken to Babylon, a flat place full of vipers and scorpions, reeking of pork, and houses of worship devoted to Baal, a deity not often kind to kids.

 

His medium-brown to deep olive skin and thick wavy hair would stand out from the youth in Babylon with their lighter skin, straighter hair, rounder faces.

 

Daniel and his peers are forced into a place with their different accent, looks, and eating practices, and yet, he found a way to belong, shine, and assume his identity.

 

How?  Why?  Perhaps it’s Daniel’s foundation; the rock on which he stands- God.

 

Daniel is someone so rooted in who he is, what he believes, and where he draws the line.

 

For him, it’s not learning a new language or learning a new culture, he has no issue with the fabulous clothes or spa treatments he receives.

 

But the food.  The food mattered.  The king is offering booze and  burgers, and Daniel says “Nope.  Not my food.  Not my body.”

 

We could go into a deep dive why Daniel would say this, but let’s just say Daniel, rooted in his worldview and knowledge of God says “Nope.  I’m good.  Just give me vegetables and plenty of fresh water and we’ll be fine.”

 

Ten days later, Daniel and his dudes are doing better than those who opted for the All-You-Can-Eat Babylonian Buffet.

 

Somehow, someway, Daniel is a person of faith who knew that the food he was offered may have been fit for  King, but not for a servant of the King of Kings.

 

Part of today’s story is the example of how one can experience God even when it appears that God is not present. 

 

Daniel is nowhere near the Temple, or a holy book, or access to a Sabbath Service, and yet he holds onto his faith and his identity through the food he eats.

 

Daniel is surrounded by temples devoted to another god, he’s seeing the unholy actions of others, he’s learning about their culture and identity, and yet he never loses his.

 

Even in this strange land, with strange foods and smells, God is there.  And that is so revolutionary that it prompts Daniel to take revolutionary action.

 

This is key for us to embrace and wonder as we wander this Advent Season. 

 

Here we are, week one, ready to go back to Bethlehem to remember who we are and recall what the Child In the Manger is All About.

 

Today we are like the Magi and Shepherds in the Field, making our way to City of David.

 

Our Christmas Carols and customs make us feel comfy and cozy, but what we’re getting ready to experience is a revolution.

 

That the God of Daniel, God of Jeremiah, God of Hannah is about to enter into our lives in an unexpected way- heaven is about inhabit human flesh.

 

We’re so use to singing about it, repeating scripture about it, that we get used to it, Christmas is earth-shaking, showing us the God is not aloof or unfeeling, but that God enters into our experiences to walk the same roads we walk, across the street to our neighbors or 900 miles away.

 

This is what our Sunday Adult Education class is learning as they read “Heaven And Earth” by Will Willimon.

 

The revolutionary knowledge that in the baby about to be born, God is going to eat with us, drink with us, cry with us, listen to us.

 

As we journey Back to Bethlehem, we seek the child who will grow to be the living one who washes our feet, heals our children, enters into our home, engages with all.

 

And because of this, all things matter.  The manger matters.  The path we take, the people we meet on the way to the manger matter. 

 

Hope matters.  Even as nights get darker, even as things seem uncertain, hope matters.

 

Just as we see in Daniel.  That ability to hold on.  To live in hope.  To exist knowing who you are and who you are not.

 

We journey back to Bethlehem because we know that our identity is rooted in the revolutionary child we’re about to meet.  That baby represents is the best we can be.

 

And that is beautiful.    

 

In closing, we have another quote from Olvia Yace, one that Daniel may have agreed with-  “Beauty is not in imitation.  It lives in the truth of our faces.  When we change your reflection to look like someone else, you forget your own face is already a masterpiece.”

 

This Advent season may we rediscover who we are; may our reflection be one that says “We belong.  We shine.  We are God’s Beloved.”  

 

Amen.