January 26, 2025
In Germany, no matter who you are, you have to register your residence at a local registry office. You have to supply all the normal information, such as name and address. But you also have to tell them your religion. This isn’t because they discriminate, but they need to know whether or not to charge you a church tax. If you’re Methodist or Baptist or non-religious, for example, you have to make sure to tell the government so you don’t have to pay the church tax. If you’re Catholic, there’s only one nationwide church that you pay your church tax to. But if tell them you’re Protestant you belong to one of many denominations—most of which don’t really matter to the people who belong to them, but which are organized in a very strange way. Some churches cover several states, while others just parts of a single state. Some churches are strictly Lutheran, a lot of them a united churches—Lutheran and Reformed—and one of them is strictly Reformed. It’s a relatively small church in the north, and it’s located in a little area called Lippe.
I bring this up, because this little church has more influence on you than you know. That’s because it has a great deal of influence on me. You see, they have a book that I use all the time. A lot of the prayers—maybe even most of the prayers—I use in worship are translated or adapted or inspired by the prayers in the Reformed Liturgy published by this little church. The official title of the book (in English) is quite beautiful. It’s called Reformed Liturgy: Prayers and Services for the Congregation Gathered under the Word.
I love that phrase, “under the word.” Of course it tells us of the authority of God’s word. But, to me, it sounds like a gentle authority, a safe place to be, like a shelter or an umbrella. There are many times in the Bible where God’s people are gathered “under the word.” The first place I think of is in the Book of Exodus (chapter 20) when Moses comes down from the mountain and shares God’s commandments.
We heard about another time in this morning’s scripture reading—Nehemiah 8. I’m pretty sure I’ve talked about this passage before. But it’s worth hearing about again, because it’s very important. Now remember, the order of the books of the Bible are not the order in which they happened. There are 39 books in the Old Testament, and Ezra and Nehemiah are nos. 15 & 16. But they’re really last—or at least close to last—in the chronological order.
Ezra and Nehemiah (the two books go together and their stories compliment each other) happen at the end of Israel’s Babylonian Captivity (or Exile). In the early 6th century BCE, Babylon invaded Judah and conquered Jerusalem. They destroyed both the city and the temple, and carted thousands of the inhabitants off into exile. This is the destruction talked about in the Book of Lamentations. And the exile is what’s talked about in the beautiful words of the beginning of Psalm 137 (vv 1-4):
By the rivers of Babylon, we sat down and wept when we remembered Zion. On the willows there we hung up our harps. For our captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!” But how could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?
I think the story of the Babylonian Captivity is an amazing story of Israel’s relationship with God. It’s what God told Jeremiah in chapter 29 verse 11: For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope. And despite their bitterness and their anger, God also told the exiles to live their lives, and to seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare [29:5-7].
And they did. Their culture and their religion thrived during this period. They did not let go of their faith or their identity—indeed it’s believed that the first five books of the Bible, what’s called the Torah, reached its present form during this time. And when Babylon was conquered by Persia, the Persians allowed Israel to return to Jerusalem, the home they had never forgotten.
And when they returned at the end of the 6th century, Nehemiah was their governor and Ezra was their religious leader. They represent a very exclusive view of what it means to be the people of God. I admit I prefer Isaiah’s vision, where outsiders are also invited into the fold. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love this story of God’s people gathered before the Water Gate, listening to the Bible being read to them—the books that had been compiled while they were in exile.
Their reaction is interesting. Nehemiah says that, when Ezra read to them, they wept. My first reaction to this is that this was conviction. By that, I mean that they listened to the law of God and realized they’d been breaking it. But when I think more deeply about it, I think it’s something else—something much more moving.
Imagine spending a lifetime in a place where you felt you didn’t belong. And when you were finally able to return to the place you knew in your heart was home, you stood with your community and listened as someone read to you your story—a story you’d never really heard before. Because remember, the first five books of the Bible are called The Law, but these books contain a lot more stories than they do rules. This is where Israel learns of creation and Abraham and the baby in the bullrushes and the Exodus and the forty years and, finally, the Promised Land. And the older I get, the more I realize that it would not be possible to hear these stories for the first time and not break down in tears.
And so Nehemiah told the people to go home and feast and share their plenty with those who have nothing. “This is a sacred day before our Lord,” Nehemiah said, so “don’t be dejected and sad, for the joy of the Lord is your strength!”
There’s another homecoming I want to talk about today, and it’s found in the New Testament, when Jesus returned to Galilee, filled with the Holy Spirit’s power. Reports about him spread quickly through the whole region. He taught regularly in their synagogues and was praised by everyone. When he came to the village of Nazareth, his boyhood home, he went as usual to the synagogue on the Sabbath and stood up to read the Scriptures. The scroll of Isaiah the prophet was handed to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where this was written:
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, for he has anointed me to bring Good News to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim that captives will be released, that the blind will see, that the oppressed will be set free, and that the time of the Lord’s favor has come.
He rolled up the scroll and sat down. Then he began to speak to them. “The Scripture you’ve just heard has been fulfilled this very day!”
Can you imagine listening to the scriptures read by the very fulfillment of those same scriptures? And if Jesus is the Word-made-flesh, it’s hard to imagine that he might be like us. But here he is, needing to go home before he begins the most important period of his life—the most important period of any life in history, really. He needs to go to his home synagogue before he embarks on his three years of teaching and healing and sharing the love of God.
There’s a sense that whenever God’s people gather together under the word, we’re re-living those stories from the Bible—the homecoming of the exiles, the homecoming of Jesus. In the end, Israel wept and Jesus’ hometown neighbors were skeptical. So it’s not just the setting but the reactions that have been repeated.
Coming to church is like coming home to ourselves. We call this room the sanctuary, but really, the only sanctuary that matters is within us, in our hearts. Whether we’re hearing the word for the first time or just now realizing its fulfillment, may each of us feel in our hearts that the joy of the Lord is our strength, and the word of the Lord is our home.
—©2025 Sam Greening
In Germany, no matter who you are, you have to register your residence at a local registry office. You have to supply all the normal information, such as name and address. But you also have to tell them your religion. This isn’t because they discriminate, but they need to know whether or not to charge you a church tax. If you’re Methodist or Baptist or non-religious, for example, you have to make sure to tell the government so you don’t have to pay the church tax. If you’re Catholic, there’s only one nationwide church that you pay your church tax to. But if tell them you’re Protestant you belong to one of many denominations—most of which don’t really matter to the people who belong to them, but which are organized in a very strange way. Some churches cover several states, while others just parts of a single state. Some churches are strictly Lutheran, a lot of them a united churches—Lutheran and Reformed—and one of them is strictly Reformed. It’s a relatively small church in the north, and it’s located in a little area called Lippe.
I bring this up, because this little church has more influence on you than you know. That’s because it has a great deal of influence on me. You see, they have a book that I use all the time. A lot of the prayers—maybe even most of the prayers—I use in worship are translated or adapted or inspired by the prayers in the Reformed Liturgy published by this little church. The official title of the book (in English) is quite beautiful. It’s called Reformed Liturgy: Prayers and Services for the Congregation Gathered under the Word.
I love that phrase, “under the word.” Of course it tells us of the authority of God’s word. But, to me, it sounds like a gentle authority, a safe place to be, like a shelter or an umbrella. There are many times in the Bible where God’s people are gathered “under the word.” The first place I think of is in the Book of Exodus (chapter 20) when Moses comes down from the mountain and shares God’s commandments.
We heard about another time in this morning’s scripture reading—Nehemiah 8. I’m pretty sure I’ve talked about this passage before. But it’s worth hearing about again, because it’s very important. Now remember, the order of the books of the Bible are not the order in which they happened. There are 39 books in the Old Testament, and Ezra and Nehemiah are nos. 15 & 16. But they’re really last—or at least close to last—in the chronological order.
Ezra and Nehemiah (the two books go together and their stories compliment each other) happen at the end of Israel’s Babylonian Captivity (or Exile). In the early 6th century BCE, Babylon invaded Judah and conquered Jerusalem. They destroyed both the city and the temple, and carted thousands of the inhabitants off into exile. This is the destruction talked about in the Book of Lamentations. And the exile is what’s talked about in the beautiful words of the beginning of Psalm 137 (vv 1-4):
By the rivers of Babylon, we sat down and wept when we remembered Zion. On the willows there we hung up our harps. For our captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!” But how could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?
I think the story of the Babylonian Captivity is an amazing story of Israel’s relationship with God. It’s what God told Jeremiah in chapter 29 verse 11: For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope. And despite their bitterness and their anger, God also told the exiles to live their lives, and to seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare [29:5-7].
And they did. Their culture and their religion thrived during this period. They did not let go of their faith or their identity—indeed it’s believed that the first five books of the Bible, what’s called the Torah, reached its present form during this time. And when Babylon was conquered by Persia, the Persians allowed Israel to return to Jerusalem, the home they had never forgotten.
And when they returned at the end of the 6th century, Nehemiah was their governor and Ezra was their religious leader. They represent a very exclusive view of what it means to be the people of God. I admit I prefer Isaiah’s vision, where outsiders are also invited into the fold. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love this story of God’s people gathered before the Water Gate, listening to the Bible being read to them—the books that had been compiled while they were in exile.
Their reaction is interesting. Nehemiah says that, when Ezra read to them, they wept. My first reaction to this is that this was conviction. By that, I mean that they listened to the law of God and realized they’d been breaking it. But when I think more deeply about it, I think it’s something else—something much more moving.
Imagine spending a lifetime in a place where you felt you didn’t belong. And when you were finally able to return to the place you knew in your heart was home, you stood with your community and listened as someone read to you your story—a story you’d never really heard before. Because remember, the first five books of the Bible are called The Law, but these books contain a lot more stories than they do rules. This is where Israel learns of creation and Abraham and the baby in the bullrushes and the Exodus and the forty years and, finally, the Promised Land. And the older I get, the more I realize that it would not be possible to hear these stories for the first time and not break down in tears.
And so Nehemiah told the people to go home and feast and share their plenty with those who have nothing. “This is a sacred day before our Lord,” Nehemiah said, so “don’t be dejected and sad, for the joy of the Lord is your strength!”
There’s another homecoming I want to talk about today, and it’s found in the New Testament, when Jesus returned to Galilee, filled with the Holy Spirit’s power. Reports about him spread quickly through the whole region. He taught regularly in their synagogues and was praised by everyone. When he came to the village of Nazareth, his boyhood home, he went as usual to the synagogue on the Sabbath and stood up to read the Scriptures. The scroll of Isaiah the prophet was handed to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where this was written:
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, for he has anointed me to bring Good News to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim that captives will be released, that the blind will see, that the oppressed will be set free, and that the time of the Lord’s favor has come.
He rolled up the scroll and sat down. Then he began to speak to them. “The Scripture you’ve just heard has been fulfilled this very day!”
Can you imagine listening to the scriptures read by the very fulfillment of those same scriptures? And if Jesus is the Word-made-flesh, it’s hard to imagine that he might be like us. But here he is, needing to go home before he begins the most important period of his life—the most important period of any life in history, really. He needs to go to his home synagogue before he embarks on his three years of teaching and healing and sharing the love of God.
There’s a sense that whenever God’s people gather together under the word, we’re re-living those stories from the Bible—the homecoming of the exiles, the homecoming of Jesus. In the end, Israel wept and Jesus’ hometown neighbors were skeptical. So it’s not just the setting but the reactions that have been repeated.
Coming to church is like coming home to ourselves. We call this room the sanctuary, but really, the only sanctuary that matters is within us, in our hearts. Whether we’re hearing the word for the first time or just now realizing its fulfillment, may each of us feel in our hearts that the joy of the Lord is our strength, and the word of the Lord is our home.
—©2025 Sam Greening
