"Merry Christmas, Sgt. Jenkins"

Pastor Nagle
01/02/2005

“Merry Christmas, Sgt. Jenkins” Jeremiah 31:7-14 John 1:1-18 The Second Sunday after Christmas January 2, 2005
They say it was a darker than usual night, and as cold as anyone could remember. The landscape was desolate, an awful battlefield of the war. The sides were clear-cut. We were the good guys. The North Koreans and their Chinese allies were the bad guys. Everybody knew that. And yet 40 years ago this Wednesday, January 5, 1965, Sgt. Charles Jenkins left the American side of the battle and fled to North Korea. Which made him a deserter, a law breaker, someone guilty of treason perhaps. But more than the official charges, his decision to defect demoralized his fellow soldiers and he was branded a turncoat. For forty years, his family lived in shame at the news, the almost incomprehensible news, that their son and brother had gone over to the enemy. But the family also hoped that one day he would come to his senses and want to return home.
If you’ve read the newspapers any time during the last few months, you know the rest of the story. How Sgt. Jenkins decided he did want to come home, how that desire affected diplomatic relationships, how the news was received by his family in North Carolina, and how it was received by former and present brothers-in-arms. But what do you think? If it were up to you, knowing what you do, a little or a lot, would you allow Sgt. Jenkins to come home, or would you welcome Sgt. Jenkins home, or would you make him live out the days of his bad choice in a foreign land? I assure you that every possible response has been suggested. But in its way, the outcome is a lot like the story of the exiles in this morning’s first lesson.
The prophet Jeremiah, speaking on behalf of the Lord God of Israel, said about the exiles in a far-off place, “See, I am going to bring them from the land of the north, and gather them from the farthest parts of the earth.” “I will turn their mourning into joy, I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow.” Which is pretty amazing. That those who had been carried off would be coming back. Of course, the story of the Jewish exiles isn’t exactly like that of Sgt. Jenkins. In battle, the Jews were prisoners, carried off by the enemy. One dark night, Sgt. Jenkins decided to flee to the enemy. How is it you got on the wrong side? Were you taken there? Did you run there? Are you still there?
Maybe you saw that coming, maybe not. But the purpose of a sermon isn’t to recount old history, so much as it’s to use old history as a basis for looking at how things are today. So there have always been people who have gotten on the wrong side of God, people who intentionally wandered and ran off to the bad guys, people who did stupid and treasonous things, people who disobeyed commandments and consorted with the enemy. The government calls it treason. The church calls it sin. Either way, there’s a disconnect. But how do you feel about anyone changing his mind, and wanting to come back?
You shouldn’t be surprised to know that I get those inquiries all the time. Pastor, I really messed up some years ago. Do you think God still holds it against me? Pastor, if there’s a ranking of sin, do you think what I did was something little or big? Pastor, is New Year’s a good time to look at how life could be? Pastor, this repentance word, does it apply to me? Well of course it does. That’s what today’s first lesson was about—that when you’ve been in a bad place, when you want to come back to love and safety, God is ready and waiting to welcome you home, will actually bring you back. So I’m not worried about God’s response. But I am a little concerned about how people like you feel.
How do you feel about Sgt. Jenkins? That he made his bed and should have to lie in it? Or that he already served a kind of punishment by being away from family and nation? That he should go on national television and apologize for his conduct? Or that forty years is long enough for any of us to forgive and forget? Do you think that the military code and desertion has no statute of limitations, and that the law must be upheld? Should anyone who ran away be allowed to come back? Would it make any difference if Sgt. Jenkins were your uncle? Would it make any difference if your uncle got killed in the Korean War? How inclined are you to wish Sgt. Jenkins a Merry Christmas?
Though the radio station has returned to regular programming, though the mall has moved on to the next holiday, though most people have put the tree out by the curb, in the church we still celebrate Christmas. For four more days, we celebrate Christmas— though in truth, the importance of the day never stops. You do know that there is an important truth, don’t you? That God came and dwelt among us. What this morning’s gospel claimed—that “the Word became flesh and lived among us.” And do you know why that’s such a big deal? So that anyone who had messed up can be brought back. So that anyone who was far off can be made near. So that there can be joy when it’s least expected. So that hope can be made real. So that people like Sgt. Jenkins can come home again. Which, if that really is the Christmas message, must annoy the heck out of some people. That someone who did something wrong, who flagrantly did something wrong, who hurt his family and a whole nation by doing something wrong, should be allowed to get away with it. Would you let Sgt. Jenkins get away with it? Do you think we should allow you to get away with it too?
The gospel lesson for today includes these words: “The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.” Granted, I have taken out of context a single sentence. But standing there in the first chapter of John’s gospel, significant Christmas-time scripture that it is, I wonder if words like that could be, should be, ought to be, the foundation for the way you live. That Moses’ way and Jesus’ way are not identical. That we are to worry less about commandments and live more with grace. That we could live less with standards and more with generosity. And understand that Christmas is not about living rigidly, checking our list twice, but that it’s God’s way to cover our naughty with his nice. Not to live foolishly. Not to live totally forgetfully. But to say to Sgt. Jenkins—you want to come back. Fine. We wondered why you wandered off in the first place. We thought you were stupid to do it. But we’d be stupid if we didn’t love you. Certainly we’ll let you back in. Though that doesn’t change the fact that you did break the law. And if the law is broken, there’s a price to be paid.
Does this sound like the way your parent once dealt with you? Is it the way you dealt with, or should have dealt with someone you love? Of course we can start over. Not that we forget it ever happened, but that we’re all entitled to a second chance. Which doesn’t mean there are no consequences. When stuff happens, there’s a fall-out that has to be dealt with. But how much fallout there should be and how long it should be important— ah, that’s the point.
There were some people who were so angry, so hurt, so annoyed by Sgt. Jenkins’ desertion that they did everything possible to prevent his return. That’s understandable. There is pain in life. And when we hurt, when we get hurt through no fault of our own, we sometimes try to hurt back. Some families go to court begging for capital punishment for those who are guilty of a loved one’s death. Though there are also families who go to court urging that such a life be spared. Their own loved one is dead, but they don’t see the purpose of causing another death as payback. How do you feel about sinners? Should we kill them off, or give them a second chance? The theme of the first lesson is that God will bring his people back. Again.
Did you ever get a second chance? Do you ever wish you’d been given a second chance? Might you give a second chance to someone else? Well that’s something to consider at New Year’s, isn’t it? That we have all kinds of images of starting over, of wiping the slate clean, of refreshment. Maybe even repentance and re-establishment. Or at least that’s what you said at the beginning of last year. And did it work out that way for you? The end of Christmas. The beginning of a new year. Should it all be about you giving forgiveness or you getting forgiveness. You helping people start over again or them helping you. The law of Moses or the grace of Jesus. Sgt. Jenkins getting a second chance, or you.
There are different schools of thought, of course. When we appear before the parole board or before the altar of God, some would ask, “Do you deserve a second chance.” “Yes, Lord, I do!” “Are you sorry?” “Yes, Lord, I am.” “Really, really sorry?” “Oh, sorrier than that.” “But can your word be trusted?” “Yes, Lord, it can.” “Will you do it again.” “No, Lord, I’m changed.” Well, the words are right, but how can you gauge the truth? Is anyone willing to be burned twice? Maybe God, who through the prophet Jeremiah said of his people, “See I am going to bring them from the land of the north, and gather them from the farthest parts of the earth, among them the blind and the lame, those with child and those in labor, together; a great company, there shall return here.” God said he would bring the exiles back. But do you know how they got far-off in the first place? They disobeyed God. They didn’t believe him. They didn’t trust him. They figured false gods offered more promise. So they ran off as much as they were taken off. Like Sgt. Jenkins, were guilty of desertion and treason. But even so, God decided to bring them back. Would you, could you, do that?
Again, we’ve left the history books in favor of today’s possibilities. How willing are you to delight in the words of John’s gospel? Not to focus on Moses’ law but to depend on Jesus’ grace. How willing are you to understand Christmas? Not having much to do with mangers or stars or wise men, but having everything to do with the purpose behind God taking on human flesh and coming to live like us and with us. That a world which for so long lived with law, lived only with law, judged everything in black and white and saw retribution as the best response to hurt, suddenly was given a concept of grace. An idea we don’t understand, even though we need it and could delight in it, because it’s not logical, is it? For when someone deserts, when someone lives with the enemy, when someone engages in propaganda against his own people, when someone hates what you love, when someone hurts you, how likely are you to love that person and give your life for them. But he did. The baby Jesus, grown up.
Which is what Christmas is all about, of course—that the baby Jesus grew up, and that Christmas is a prelude to Good Friday and Easter. That God came to take on human life in order to give it up again. That the law was broken and a punishment was given. But that the offense was ours and the punishment was his. That he lived in order to die, knowing he would live again. And that because he lives, so do all the Sgt. Jenkinses of the world. All of us who have been guilty and who deserve punishment. But whose punishment has been taken on by God himself. That he suffers the consequences even though he didn’t cause the problem. That there’s a spanking due, but that God hurts himself. Which doesn’t make sense, but it sure was a nice Christmas present for Sgt. Jenkins who served just a month in prison, and was set free. Free to go back to his life, to his family, to his story.
And we too have been freed to go on. Not because we deserve it, but because we need it. Because God wants us to have it, and gives it to us, even knowing we may run off again, but hoping we’ll run off with him, more, acting as Jeremiah hoped the returning exiles would act: coming and singing aloud on the height of Zion, being radiant over the goodness of the Lord. Not because they had accomplished their freedom. In fact, they could not. But glorifying God who gave them, who gives us, a second chance. A new year. A new life. A gift, at Christmas.