Rev. John M. Edgerton

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Judas had been with Jesus from the beginning, from the Galilee days when every town they visited held new fresh wonders of what Jesus might do for the people of Israel. Judas had seen how Jesus would love the downtrodden, would give food to huge mass of hungry people, and how he could hold a crowd spellbound with his teaching on the power of the law and the spirit of the prophets. To follow Jesus was to be a part of something great, Judas knew that. Everybody knew that!

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Before I began to follow after Jesus, I was like a branch hoping for nothing higher than that I should be good firewood. My aspirations for my life were to burn long, burn well, and burn bright. I wanted to contribute some small light of insight to humanity to help hold at bay the void blank expanse of all that we cannot know. I wanted to provide some small warmth in a cold world, like an open fire on a winter’s night. I wanted at least those closest to me to find comfort in how I lived.

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Sometimes what we need from God comes in the form of a story; a story about a woman or a man who shows us a way, when we could see no way; a person who shows that we are not alone, never alone, always and ever surrounded by brethren. So I offer you a story. It is a story submerged within the deep and mist covered past of the people of Israel, from a time of myth and miracle a time of kings and prophets and giants. It is the story of a woman, named Michal.

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King Solomon is said to have been the wisest of all the kings of Israel. He was known far and wide for being able to expound at length on any topic you could wish—from music and poetry to the classification of plants and animals. The Kingdom prospered, there was peace, whatever he turned his energies toward seemed to invariably be a success. But Solomon had a secret. There was a secret to his wisdom, it was not ordinary.

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If you’re new to the church, maybe you look around worship and see that people seem to know all kinds of rituals and prayers that you don’t know, and people seem to believe all kinds of things that you aren’t sure you can believe, it might make you wonder: is there a place in this church for me? Or maybe you’ve been here a long time and church isn’t how you remember it, it might make you wonder, is there a place in this church for me?

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I love the Christmas stories from scripture. But to be honest, in my rational mind I find the familiar scriptures to be hard to believe in sometimes. The angels with their wings aflutter, shepherds with their hearts aflutter. The wise men traveling from far away, guided by starlight to encounter something new and necessary. A young woman believing the impossible was true, a young man believing she was telling the truth. These things stretch credulity, it’s true. But these are not what I find so hard to believe. It’s what the prophet Isaiah says: