1. Children’s Sermon
It’s time! [Holding up a large clock], well, what time is it? [Children say what time the clock says.] And what day is it? [Children say, “It’s Christmas Eve!”] Yes, it’s Christmas Eve. For twenty-four long days, we’ve been waiting for Christmas. We’ve been watching and waiting, sometimes patiently, sometimes less patiently. We’ve been opening or reading our Advent calendars one day at a time. Most of the time we’ve been nice to each other – and to strangers too – but sometimes we’ve gotten tired and cranky, maybe even disappointed, worried, or angry. We’ve watched – and helped – as the house got cleaned and decorated, the Christmas tree was bought or unpacked and then decorated. Maybe someone in your house baked or bought special cookies, or cakes, or pies. Maybe you’ve been preparing for a special Christmas dinner. Maybe you have plans to visit or talk with distant relatives.
All this preparation for Christmas! And now all the preparation is finished, and the time has finally come! The presents have been bought, wrapped, and put under the tree. Now the time has finally come! Jesus is finally here! Jesus has been born and is lying in the stable with his mother and father and all the animals. Finally, after all the waiting, we can celebrate again that Jesus was born. We can celebrate again our faith that Jesus continues to come to us today, tomorrow, and all the days of our lives. We can celebrate again our faith that when Jesus comes he changes our lives. We can celebrate again that God is with us tonight and is always with us. So what are some of the things you see in this church that remind you that Jesus is always with us? [Let children mention a few things: e.g., the crèche, the cross, the Jesus window, the Bible, even the hymnals.] That’s really good. Now I have a special job for you. I’m going to talk to the adults for a bit. While I’m doing that, I want you to give these out papers and these treats to the adults. Can you do that? [Children pass out candy and invitations to “Come celebrate the birth of Jesus!”]
2. Adult sermon
The time has come! The time has come to savor again the joyous, mysterious message of Luke’s story of Jesus’ birth. The story starts in chronos, historical time: “when Quirinius was governor of Syria.” This was a time when an emperor could force all his subjects to travel in order to respond to the census-takers’ demands. Joseph and a very pregnant Mary, even travelling in caravan, would have needed at least a week to comply with this demand. This was a time when Roman rule was and continued to be oppressive and hated by all those subject to it. This was a time when one of the emperor’s puppets would order the murder of all boys under two years old in Jerusalem. This was a time of subjugation, capital punishment, war, conquest, destruction, and even natural disaster. This was a time of darkness.
Is our time any different? We too live in a time of war – unending so it seems in Afghanistan, with precious little to show for it but soldiers’ deaths and wasted taxpayer dollars. We too live in a time of climate change and natural disasters. Have we already forgotten the devastation and destruction wrought by Hurricane Sandy? We too live in a time of glaring social inequality, not only between countries, but also even within this country. The poor are still very much with us. We too live in a time of horrific violence, when innocent children and teachers can be gunned down in their classrooms. We too find ourselves stunned by the often unexpected deaths of those we love. We may feel – with justification – that we too live in a time of darkness.
Yet, in the midst of the historic darkness of Luke’s story, something happened. A birth took place, a birth that was scarcely noticed. I’m reminded of a carol we’ll sing in our Lessons and Carols service o Sunday. It’s one of my favorites, “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” It was written in the nineteenth century by Episcopal bishop Philips Brooks. “How silently, how silently, the wondrous gift is given,” the carol says of Jesus’ birth. It wasn’t that Mary didn’t shout with the pain of her labor, that the midwife didn’t offer comforting words, that Jesus didn’t cry when he was finally born, or that the animals didn’t low and moo with all the commotion in the stable. Rather, in that corner of conquered Judea, Jesus’ birth didn’t make any “noise.” It went virtually unnoticed. Jesus was just another child born to poor parents in a backwater village of the empire. No one important knew about it. No royal birth announcements were sent out.
And yet here is the good news: this birth changed the world forever. Into a dark world came a burst of light, as angels made an astounding announcement – not to Augustus or any other powerful person, but to poor, ragged, dirty, despised shepherds. The angels announced to the shepherds that in the old, dark world this birth had set in motion a new kind of time, Kairos, God’s time. The angels announced that in a stable in Bethlehem God had entered history today, that a savior, a messiah, God’s anointed one, had been born. And although the birth was as yet unnoticed, the angels’ announcement of it was nonetheless a proclamation of good news for all people, an assurance that the old dark time had come to an end, and that God’s good time had begun. And what of those poor, ragged shepherds? Naturally, at first they were afraid. But once they understood what the angels were telling them, they leapt up to see this child for themselves. And when they saw him, they were full of joy, singing out their praise of God.
This is the good news that we too are invited to share. This birth, this change from historic time to God’s time is good news for us too. Because of this birth, we too can hear the angel of the Lord say, “Do not be afraid.” Because of this birth, we too can let go of our fears. Because of the one who was born this day, we too can be joyful. We too can trust that darkness does not have the last word. We too can trust that war, destruction, subjugation, violence, natural disaster, and untimely death have been overcome and transformed by the one born this day. We too can have faith that God continues to come to us, transforming and changing us, as we live into the joyful reality of this birth in our own lives. We too can wait with hope for the final realization of the time ushered in with Jesus’ birth, God’s time, a time when all people will live in peace, freedom, abundance, and justice under Jesus’ most gracious reign.
This then is the holy mystery we have all come to celebrate tonight: that time itself was forever changed that holy night, that that silent birth forever transforms us, and that as Jesus’ disciples we already live our lives on a new and different plane. Because of that holy birth, we too can “sing to the Lord a new song.” We too can sing with all our hearts, “Joy to the world, the Lord is come.”
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Rejoice!
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.” Joy. Is that an emotion that most of us know well? How often do you feel joy? Not fleeting pleasure, but deep, overwhelming, abiding joy? Did you feel joy at the altar when you exchanged vows with your beloved? Did the mothers among you feel it when that tiny newborn was finally placed in your arms? Did you feel joy when your received the diagnosis you had hoped for or the degree you’d worked so hard for? When a friend or relative warmly embraced you after a long absence? When you finally turned your life around or got free of addiction to alcohol or drugs? Some of us clergy felt deep joy when the bishop and all the other priests laid hands on us in ordination. Do you ever feel joy in worship? Has God ever touched you in the middle of a hymn or at the altar? Do you even ever expect to feel joy? Or are you resigned to gray, low-key emotions?
In fact, right now Paul’s command to the Philippian Christians may seem almost impossible. Rejoice, you say?? Gracious and holy God, how can I rejoice? How can I rejoice when a man can walk into an elementary school and strike down teachers, staff, even children? “Our hearts are broken today,” said President Obama. And how can I rejoice when another gunman, someone whom neighbors described as a kind person, can open fire on Christmas shoppers in a crowded mall? How can I rejoice when someone – as yet unknown – can shoot at a car as it travels through a neighborhood intersection in Columbus? Dear God, when will this country, or even this state, have a sane gun policy and keep assault weapons out of the hands of all but law enforcement and military personnel? And how can I rejoice when people are still dying in Syria or eking out their lives in refugee camps? How can I rejoice when those whose homes, stores, and churches were destroyed by Hurricane Sandy are still wondering when, or even if, they will return to anything resembling normal life? Christmas may be only eight days away, but my heart is anything but merry.
The hearers of all of today’s Scripture texts would have understood my feelings. They too could have been excused for not feeling joyful. The prophet Zephaniah, the writer of our first lesson, was active during the latter half of the seventh century B.C, a time when the kingdom of Assyria controlled Judah and the surrounding countries. And it was a most desperate time. As the prophet warns his hearers in the first chapter of the book, “The great day of the Lord is near, near and hastening fast; the sound of the day of the Lord is bitter, the warrior cries aloud there. That day will be a day of wrath, a day of distress and anguish, a day of ruin and devastation, a day of darkness and gloom, a day of clouds and thick darkness, a day of trumpet blast and battle cry against the fortified cities and against the lofty battlements” (1:14-16). Over and over again the prophet reminds his hearers that they are reaping the consequences of their own sins, and that it is God’s judgment on their faithlessness that has brought the foreign rule they find so oppressive, and that has caused them such deep misery.
Those who heard the preaching of John the Immerser were also miserable. Their tiny country was under the thumb of the hated Roman Empire. They routinely endured harassment at the hands of Roman soldiers. They faced extortion and abuse from members of their own community who collaborated with the Romans in an oppressive tax collection system. The elaborate system of required purification and the expense associated with sacrificial animals kept temple worship out of the reach of those who were peasants and artisans. Prophets had been silent for more than a century. No wonder John the Immerser’s offer of a baptism of repentance attracted so many people. No wonder people began to whisper to each other, “Could he be the one to finally deliver us? Could this be God’s anointed one?”
Paul ought to have been the most miserable of all! When he wrote to the Christian community at Philippi, Paul was in prison, most likely in Rome awaiting trial and possibly a death sentence. He couldn’t be sure that the Christian communities he had helped to found would survive his death. How could he have been so upbeat? What reason did he have to rejoice – or to tell others to rejoice?
And yet. And yet there is a profound sense of joy in all these lessons. God’s condemnation of Judah’s faithlessness is not God’s last word to Zephaniah or his hearers. Even in the midst of national disaster God takes the long view, as God commands the Judeans to sing and shout for joy. God promises forgiveness and declares that God himself will rejoice over the restoration of Jerusalem: “he will rejoice over you with gladness,” the prophet sings, “he will renew you in his love; he will exult over you with loud singing as on a day of festival.”
John’s message too is “good news.” Good news? Even though John called people who came to be baptized by him a colony of snakes, they were eager for his teaching. They flocked to hear him tell them not only to talk the talk, but to walk the walk and to turn their lives around in very concrete ways: the wealthy should share their possessions with the needy, the tax collectors should collect only the taxes that were actually due, and the soldiers should give up harassment and abuse. Most important, John also held out a promise to his hearers. John declared that he was only a warm-up act, that God was not only calling them to repentance, God would, through Jesus and the power that Jesus brought to them, enable them actually to make real change in their lives. God was even now, John declared, fulfilling God’s promises to God’s people.
In the midst of real turmoil, in the midst of captivity, destruction, and death, Paul is moved to prayer. As he prays he meditates on the community he has brought into being and understands himself united in Jesus in his suffering. Pressing on towards his goal of union with Jesus, he exhorts his hearers also to rejoice in Jesus’ victory and to pray. True joy, he reminds them, lies in realizing that Christ is now always near to us, with us in all our uncertainties and struggles, and that God is always ready to hear all that we ask for, whether it be for our families, for the victims of violence, or for our nation.
So where do we find true joy in our world? With cultural Christmas in high gear out there, with such stark reminders as we’ve had this week of the human capacity for violence and evil, how can we follow Paul’s exhortation to the Philippians and feel any joy at all? First of all, let me invite you to slow down. Stay here in this sanctuary a minute or two longer. Leave outside for a minute or two the chains of cultural Christmas, the grief and the mourning, and just breathe. Open yourselves to the possibility that God might come to you, that God and God’s prophets will call you to look at your life in a new way, and that God might enable you to make real changes in your life. Be patient a while longer, and let God nourish you. Stay in this oasis, this place from which all our celebration and service flows, and let God speak to you. Listen carefully as God reminds you that, in Christ, you and all God’s children are beloved. Receive God’s gifts to you, gifts that will last a lifetime: gentleness, contentment, thanksgiving, peace, and joy. And then thank God for calling us into covenant with God and for promising us restoration and renewal, for providing us with prophets, teachers, helpers, and friends who help us to experience renewal in our own lives, and for promising us that, when we are open to his presence, Christ is always with us.
Although this weekend our hearts grieve with all those in Oregon, in Connecticut, in Syria, and wherever there is violence in the world, yet we hear and accept God’s promise of joy. As we wait for God to fulfill God’s promises, we pray, in the words of Henri Nouwen,
Lord Jesus, master of both the light and the darkness, send your Holy Spirit upon our preparations for Christmas.
We who have so much to do seek quiet spaces to hear your voice each day.
We who are anxious over many things look forward to your coming among us.
We who are blessed in so many ways long for the complete joy of your kingdom.
We whose hearts are heavy seek the joy of your presence.
We are your people, walking in darkness, yet seeking the light.
To you we say, “Come, Lord Jesus!” Amen.
In fact, right now Paul’s command to the Philippian Christians may seem almost impossible. Rejoice, you say?? Gracious and holy God, how can I rejoice? How can I rejoice when a man can walk into an elementary school and strike down teachers, staff, even children? “Our hearts are broken today,” said President Obama. And how can I rejoice when another gunman, someone whom neighbors described as a kind person, can open fire on Christmas shoppers in a crowded mall? How can I rejoice when someone – as yet unknown – can shoot at a car as it travels through a neighborhood intersection in Columbus? Dear God, when will this country, or even this state, have a sane gun policy and keep assault weapons out of the hands of all but law enforcement and military personnel? And how can I rejoice when people are still dying in Syria or eking out their lives in refugee camps? How can I rejoice when those whose homes, stores, and churches were destroyed by Hurricane Sandy are still wondering when, or even if, they will return to anything resembling normal life? Christmas may be only eight days away, but my heart is anything but merry.
The hearers of all of today’s Scripture texts would have understood my feelings. They too could have been excused for not feeling joyful. The prophet Zephaniah, the writer of our first lesson, was active during the latter half of the seventh century B.C, a time when the kingdom of Assyria controlled Judah and the surrounding countries. And it was a most desperate time. As the prophet warns his hearers in the first chapter of the book, “The great day of the Lord is near, near and hastening fast; the sound of the day of the Lord is bitter, the warrior cries aloud there. That day will be a day of wrath, a day of distress and anguish, a day of ruin and devastation, a day of darkness and gloom, a day of clouds and thick darkness, a day of trumpet blast and battle cry against the fortified cities and against the lofty battlements” (1:14-16). Over and over again the prophet reminds his hearers that they are reaping the consequences of their own sins, and that it is God’s judgment on their faithlessness that has brought the foreign rule they find so oppressive, and that has caused them such deep misery.
Those who heard the preaching of John the Immerser were also miserable. Their tiny country was under the thumb of the hated Roman Empire. They routinely endured harassment at the hands of Roman soldiers. They faced extortion and abuse from members of their own community who collaborated with the Romans in an oppressive tax collection system. The elaborate system of required purification and the expense associated with sacrificial animals kept temple worship out of the reach of those who were peasants and artisans. Prophets had been silent for more than a century. No wonder John the Immerser’s offer of a baptism of repentance attracted so many people. No wonder people began to whisper to each other, “Could he be the one to finally deliver us? Could this be God’s anointed one?”
Paul ought to have been the most miserable of all! When he wrote to the Christian community at Philippi, Paul was in prison, most likely in Rome awaiting trial and possibly a death sentence. He couldn’t be sure that the Christian communities he had helped to found would survive his death. How could he have been so upbeat? What reason did he have to rejoice – or to tell others to rejoice?
And yet. And yet there is a profound sense of joy in all these lessons. God’s condemnation of Judah’s faithlessness is not God’s last word to Zephaniah or his hearers. Even in the midst of national disaster God takes the long view, as God commands the Judeans to sing and shout for joy. God promises forgiveness and declares that God himself will rejoice over the restoration of Jerusalem: “he will rejoice over you with gladness,” the prophet sings, “he will renew you in his love; he will exult over you with loud singing as on a day of festival.”
John’s message too is “good news.” Good news? Even though John called people who came to be baptized by him a colony of snakes, they were eager for his teaching. They flocked to hear him tell them not only to talk the talk, but to walk the walk and to turn their lives around in very concrete ways: the wealthy should share their possessions with the needy, the tax collectors should collect only the taxes that were actually due, and the soldiers should give up harassment and abuse. Most important, John also held out a promise to his hearers. John declared that he was only a warm-up act, that God was not only calling them to repentance, God would, through Jesus and the power that Jesus brought to them, enable them actually to make real change in their lives. God was even now, John declared, fulfilling God’s promises to God’s people.
In the midst of real turmoil, in the midst of captivity, destruction, and death, Paul is moved to prayer. As he prays he meditates on the community he has brought into being and understands himself united in Jesus in his suffering. Pressing on towards his goal of union with Jesus, he exhorts his hearers also to rejoice in Jesus’ victory and to pray. True joy, he reminds them, lies in realizing that Christ is now always near to us, with us in all our uncertainties and struggles, and that God is always ready to hear all that we ask for, whether it be for our families, for the victims of violence, or for our nation.
So where do we find true joy in our world? With cultural Christmas in high gear out there, with such stark reminders as we’ve had this week of the human capacity for violence and evil, how can we follow Paul’s exhortation to the Philippians and feel any joy at all? First of all, let me invite you to slow down. Stay here in this sanctuary a minute or two longer. Leave outside for a minute or two the chains of cultural Christmas, the grief and the mourning, and just breathe. Open yourselves to the possibility that God might come to you, that God and God’s prophets will call you to look at your life in a new way, and that God might enable you to make real changes in your life. Be patient a while longer, and let God nourish you. Stay in this oasis, this place from which all our celebration and service flows, and let God speak to you. Listen carefully as God reminds you that, in Christ, you and all God’s children are beloved. Receive God’s gifts to you, gifts that will last a lifetime: gentleness, contentment, thanksgiving, peace, and joy. And then thank God for calling us into covenant with God and for promising us restoration and renewal, for providing us with prophets, teachers, helpers, and friends who help us to experience renewal in our own lives, and for promising us that, when we are open to his presence, Christ is always with us.
Although this weekend our hearts grieve with all those in Oregon, in Connecticut, in Syria, and wherever there is violence in the world, yet we hear and accept God’s promise of joy. As we wait for God to fulfill God’s promises, we pray, in the words of Henri Nouwen,
Lord Jesus, master of both the light and the darkness, send your Holy Spirit upon our preparations for Christmas.
We who have so much to do seek quiet spaces to hear your voice each day.
We who are anxious over many things look forward to your coming among us.
We who are blessed in so many ways long for the complete joy of your kingdom.
We whose hearts are heavy seek the joy of your presence.
We are your people, walking in darkness, yet seeking the light.
To you we say, “Come, Lord Jesus!” Amen.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Garments of Hope
Who are you wearing? Which designer is “you?” And, more to the point, what message do your clothes proclaim? It wasn’t so long ago that women would not have dared to come through the red doors of St. Peter’s or any Episcopal church without a hat and gloves, and men without a jacket and tie – the hat, of course, coming off at the door. What did our clothes then proclaim? Status, comfort, and wealth? In the 1970s, professional women were advised to “dress for success.” That dark skirted suit, worn with a light-colored blouse with a bow-tie collar, we were told, would surely proclaim our professionalism to our colleagues. In our laid-back culture today, does anyone still dress to impress? They do, at least in Hollywood. Every year at the Academy Awards program, the media declare the losers and winners in what the website Moviefone calls “the Super Bowl of movie star fashion.” The Moviefone writers ask, “Who sparkled? Who missed the mark?” Then they warn us that, “from stylish first-time nominees … to some of Oscars hottest couples … we've got glowing praise and brutally honest critiques for all of them.”1
Who are you wearing? On this second Sunday in Advent, the prophet Baruch poses this same question to all who are preparing to celebrate Jesus’ first coming, all who even now are seeing signs of his presence among us, and all who are waiting in hope for his return. Unless you go to an Easter Vigil service or perhaps a service of Lessons and Carols for Advent, this is the only time in the three-year Revised Common Lectionary that you will hear from this prophet. Although this prophecy is ascribed to Jeremiah’s secretary Baruch and is addressed to those in exile in Babylon in the sixth century, the book of Baruch was probably written to second-century Jews who were suffering oppression at the hand of Greek rulers. Like the Babylonian exiles, like those who heard John the Baptist’s message two centuries later, and like us, those who heard the prophecies in the book of Baruch were desperately in need of words of hope. And so the prophet tells them, “Take off your widow’s weeds, your clothes proclaiming your grief and desolation. Put on a robe and a crown, the clothes of a monarch, the clothes that proclaim hope.” Addressing the city of Jerusalem directly, the prophet proclaims the fulfillment of God’s promises, and the restoration and rebuilding of Israel. To complete the message of hope, to underscore why the people dare put on the clothing of hope, the prophet declares that God will change and restore all creation, bringing all Israel to that place of exultation and joy in the mighty acts of God.
We hear Baruch’s message of hope reiterated in Luke’s description of Jesus’ cousin John the Baptist. As you know, we are hearing the story out of order. When John comes out of the desert, Jesus is an adult, the much cherished nativity scenes well behind us. Indeed, shortly after John’s proclamation here, Jesus will be baptized by John. Jesus will retreat himself to the wilderness for forty days and then begin his own public ministry. To prepare people for the coming of Jesus, the gospel writer tells us that John proclaims a message of “repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” But there’s more here than simply repentance, necessary as repentance might be. Using language borrowed from the prophet Isaiah and similar to that found in Baruch, the gospel reminds us that John’s message not only announces the coming of Jesus, it also offers us hope. In Isaiah’s language, originally addressed to those who are exiled in Babylon, John restates God’s promises of return, restoration, and the renewal of all creation. Most important, John proclaims that God’s promise of hope and restoration is intended for all – not just for those who happened to encounter the earthly Jesus.
Who is wearing the clothing of hope in our world? Whose clothing proclaims that God is at work, actively restoring God’s people and God’s creation? Who is working to rekindle hope among those whose situations seem hopeless? December 1st was World AIDS day. Two months ago, a woman named Esperança came to the health center in Cobue, a small village in a remote corner of Mozambique.2 There Episcopal Relief and Development partners with the Anglican Diocese of Niassa in running a comprehensive community health program called Salt, Light, Health. Esperança had faithfully taken her anti-retrovirus medications since she was first diagnosed with AIDS. Now she was unable to walk or sit up because of infected ulcers and bedsores and was clearly losing the battle. But Esperança lived up to her name. She had esperança, she had hope that was stronger than the bacteria that sought to defeat her. After working to clear her body of infection, clinic doctors gained approval from the national Ministry of Health to treat her with the scarce, more powerful “second-line” drugs. Though she had prepared herself for death, within a few days, Esperança was able to get up and walk. Soon thereafter she returned to joyful friends and family members who had been certain they would never see her again. The “Mother’s Union,” the local church women’s group, joyfully thanked God for her return. Esperança wouldn’t be alive today were it not for the support of all who cared for her, the availability of second-line medications, and the doctors and nurses at Salt, Light, Health. But, more than anything else, Esperança refused to wear the “garment of sorrow and affliction.” Instead, Esperança drew from her deep well of faith, courageously insisting on wearing the garment of hope. In surviving this latest assault of the AIDS virus she not only fulfilled her own hope, she also became a model of hope for others, among both her fellow AIDS sufferers and the Salt, Light, Health staff.
Who are we wearing? What message do our clothes proclaim? Do our clothes proclaim faith in God’s promises and hope for God’s restoration of our world? On Tuesday this week we took a different approach to the prayers of the people in the evening Eucharist. As some of you know, we put prayer request cards on the tables for Loaves and Fishes diners. There was a stack of them on my desk this week. I read them all, one by one, including those clearly written by children or barely legible. At the beginning of the Eucharist I passed out the prayer request cards to the people there. Instead of the set prayers of the people in the Book of Common Prayer we each in turn read out what was written on the cards. One person asked for prayers for someone newly diagnosed with cancer. Another prayed for a son just diagnosed with diabetes. “I had hoped to keep him from suffering as I have suffered,” the card said. Others asked prayers for someone with a hurt shoulder, someone needing dental work, or an uncle in jail. One prayed that the meager Christmas her resources allowed her to provide this year would not disappoint her family. Another thanked God for the healing of a spouse and asked prayers for upcoming surgery. I don’t know about what the others felt, but that evening I felt the weight of the world’s pain and grief more deeply than I had ever felt before. I also felt a deeper compassion for all those people who had opened their hearts to God and to us on those prayer cards. And I wondered: how can I, how can we rekindle their hope? How can we help clothe them with the garments of hope? How can we help them to share the promise of God’s restoration and renewal?
For, ultimately we are all called to be Baruch. We are all called to give God’s people a new hope and a new message: that they are to exchange the weeds of grief and despair for the robe of restoration and return. We are all called to be John the Baptist. We are all called to proclaim that God fulfills God’s promises. We are all called to proclaim that, “The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood.” We are called to rekindle hope in the world around us, in practical and concrete ways. We are called to look ahead to the final restoration of the world under Jesus’ reign. And we are called to proclaim that God’s promises are not meant for only a chosen few, but are ultimately given to all people.
What are you wearing? Are you wearing the garment of hope, restoration and return? Are you helping to rekindle hope in the world? As our worship ends this morning, we will sing “Fling wide your gates, O Zion; your Savior’s rule embrace. His tidings of salvation proclaim in every place.” With Baruch, with John the Baptist, with Esperança, may we too put on the garments of hope and wearing them may we proclaim glad tidings in our world.
1. Moviefone, http://news.moviefone.com/2012/02/26/oscars-2012-best-worst-dressed_n_1302709.html, accessed December 7, 2012.
2. Rebecca J. Vander Meulen, “World AIDS Day 2012: Esperança ’s Esperança,” Episcopal Relief and Development, November 30, 2012, accessed at http://blog.er-d.org/, December 7, 2012. The rest of Esperança’s story is based on this blog post.
Who are you wearing? On this second Sunday in Advent, the prophet Baruch poses this same question to all who are preparing to celebrate Jesus’ first coming, all who even now are seeing signs of his presence among us, and all who are waiting in hope for his return. Unless you go to an Easter Vigil service or perhaps a service of Lessons and Carols for Advent, this is the only time in the three-year Revised Common Lectionary that you will hear from this prophet. Although this prophecy is ascribed to Jeremiah’s secretary Baruch and is addressed to those in exile in Babylon in the sixth century, the book of Baruch was probably written to second-century Jews who were suffering oppression at the hand of Greek rulers. Like the Babylonian exiles, like those who heard John the Baptist’s message two centuries later, and like us, those who heard the prophecies in the book of Baruch were desperately in need of words of hope. And so the prophet tells them, “Take off your widow’s weeds, your clothes proclaiming your grief and desolation. Put on a robe and a crown, the clothes of a monarch, the clothes that proclaim hope.” Addressing the city of Jerusalem directly, the prophet proclaims the fulfillment of God’s promises, and the restoration and rebuilding of Israel. To complete the message of hope, to underscore why the people dare put on the clothing of hope, the prophet declares that God will change and restore all creation, bringing all Israel to that place of exultation and joy in the mighty acts of God.
We hear Baruch’s message of hope reiterated in Luke’s description of Jesus’ cousin John the Baptist. As you know, we are hearing the story out of order. When John comes out of the desert, Jesus is an adult, the much cherished nativity scenes well behind us. Indeed, shortly after John’s proclamation here, Jesus will be baptized by John. Jesus will retreat himself to the wilderness for forty days and then begin his own public ministry. To prepare people for the coming of Jesus, the gospel writer tells us that John proclaims a message of “repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” But there’s more here than simply repentance, necessary as repentance might be. Using language borrowed from the prophet Isaiah and similar to that found in Baruch, the gospel reminds us that John’s message not only announces the coming of Jesus, it also offers us hope. In Isaiah’s language, originally addressed to those who are exiled in Babylon, John restates God’s promises of return, restoration, and the renewal of all creation. Most important, John proclaims that God’s promise of hope and restoration is intended for all – not just for those who happened to encounter the earthly Jesus.
Who is wearing the clothing of hope in our world? Whose clothing proclaims that God is at work, actively restoring God’s people and God’s creation? Who is working to rekindle hope among those whose situations seem hopeless? December 1st was World AIDS day. Two months ago, a woman named Esperança came to the health center in Cobue, a small village in a remote corner of Mozambique.2 There Episcopal Relief and Development partners with the Anglican Diocese of Niassa in running a comprehensive community health program called Salt, Light, Health. Esperança had faithfully taken her anti-retrovirus medications since she was first diagnosed with AIDS. Now she was unable to walk or sit up because of infected ulcers and bedsores and was clearly losing the battle. But Esperança lived up to her name. She had esperança, she had hope that was stronger than the bacteria that sought to defeat her. After working to clear her body of infection, clinic doctors gained approval from the national Ministry of Health to treat her with the scarce, more powerful “second-line” drugs. Though she had prepared herself for death, within a few days, Esperança was able to get up and walk. Soon thereafter she returned to joyful friends and family members who had been certain they would never see her again. The “Mother’s Union,” the local church women’s group, joyfully thanked God for her return. Esperança wouldn’t be alive today were it not for the support of all who cared for her, the availability of second-line medications, and the doctors and nurses at Salt, Light, Health. But, more than anything else, Esperança refused to wear the “garment of sorrow and affliction.” Instead, Esperança drew from her deep well of faith, courageously insisting on wearing the garment of hope. In surviving this latest assault of the AIDS virus she not only fulfilled her own hope, she also became a model of hope for others, among both her fellow AIDS sufferers and the Salt, Light, Health staff.
Who are we wearing? What message do our clothes proclaim? Do our clothes proclaim faith in God’s promises and hope for God’s restoration of our world? On Tuesday this week we took a different approach to the prayers of the people in the evening Eucharist. As some of you know, we put prayer request cards on the tables for Loaves and Fishes diners. There was a stack of them on my desk this week. I read them all, one by one, including those clearly written by children or barely legible. At the beginning of the Eucharist I passed out the prayer request cards to the people there. Instead of the set prayers of the people in the Book of Common Prayer we each in turn read out what was written on the cards. One person asked for prayers for someone newly diagnosed with cancer. Another prayed for a son just diagnosed with diabetes. “I had hoped to keep him from suffering as I have suffered,” the card said. Others asked prayers for someone with a hurt shoulder, someone needing dental work, or an uncle in jail. One prayed that the meager Christmas her resources allowed her to provide this year would not disappoint her family. Another thanked God for the healing of a spouse and asked prayers for upcoming surgery. I don’t know about what the others felt, but that evening I felt the weight of the world’s pain and grief more deeply than I had ever felt before. I also felt a deeper compassion for all those people who had opened their hearts to God and to us on those prayer cards. And I wondered: how can I, how can we rekindle their hope? How can we help clothe them with the garments of hope? How can we help them to share the promise of God’s restoration and renewal?
For, ultimately we are all called to be Baruch. We are all called to give God’s people a new hope and a new message: that they are to exchange the weeds of grief and despair for the robe of restoration and return. We are all called to be John the Baptist. We are all called to proclaim that God fulfills God’s promises. We are all called to proclaim that, “The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood.” We are called to rekindle hope in the world around us, in practical and concrete ways. We are called to look ahead to the final restoration of the world under Jesus’ reign. And we are called to proclaim that God’s promises are not meant for only a chosen few, but are ultimately given to all people.
What are you wearing? Are you wearing the garment of hope, restoration and return? Are you helping to rekindle hope in the world? As our worship ends this morning, we will sing “Fling wide your gates, O Zion; your Savior’s rule embrace. His tidings of salvation proclaim in every place.” With Baruch, with John the Baptist, with Esperança, may we too put on the garments of hope and wearing them may we proclaim glad tidings in our world.
1. Moviefone, http://news.moviefone.com/2012/02/26/oscars-2012-best-worst-dressed_n_1302709.html, accessed December 7, 2012.
2. Rebecca J. Vander Meulen, “World AIDS Day 2012: Esperança ’s Esperança,” Episcopal Relief and Development, November 30, 2012, accessed at http://blog.er-d.org/, December 7, 2012. The rest of Esperança’s story is based on this blog post.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Strengthen Your Hearts in Holiness
Clunk, clunk, clunk! The thud of the chains of Marley’s ghost grew louder and louder, as Scrooge cringed in fear in his gloomy sitting room. The ghost roared at him, and Scrooge’s face contorted in terror. I love Dickens’s A Christmas Carol, especially the 1951 film version with veteran British actor Alastair Sim. Lionel Barrymore’s radio version, first broadcast in 1934, is also justly famous, as are the films starring George C. Scott and Albert Finney, and the many other adaptations of this beloved tale. Do you have a tradition of listening to it at least once during Advent? I do!
Do you remember the story? After the ghost of his dead partner Jacob Marley visits him, miserly, isolated Ebenezer Scrooge is led away from his dark chambers by three spirits. Through the eyes of the Spirit of Christmas Past, Scrooge revisits his earlier life. His eyes light up as he sees again the bountiful Christmas celebration presided over by his generous employer Mr. Fezziwig, and he ruefully shakes his head as he sees himself turn away his lovely fiancée in his pursuit of wealth. With the Ghost of Christmas Present, Scrooge sees with horror the desperate situation of the poor in nineteenth-century London. He notes with surprise that, despite their poverty and the frail health of their youngest child, Tiny Tim, the family of his much-abused clerk, Bob Cratchett, finds true joy sharing their meager Christmas feast. In an abrupt turn-about, the silent hooded Ghost of Christmas Future allows Scrooge to see the Cratchetts’ grief at the death of Tiny Tim and his own lonely unmourned death. In the most poignant scene of the story, Scrooge cries out, “Can these shadows be changed?” To his and our joy, the visions of the three Spirits leave Scrooge a changed man, and the shadows can and do change.
We have begun a new church year. It is the season of Advent. In Advent, like Scrooge, we too live in three time frames at once. We look to the past as we remember God’s promises to Israel. In our reading from the prophet Jeremiah, addressed to the community in exile from Jerusalem, we hear again God’s promise to rebuild Jerusalem and ultimately to establish a new reign of justice and righteousness. We also look to the past as we prepare to celebrate the first coming of Jesus, his birth at Bethlehem, and we ponder how God began to fulfill God’s promises in Jesus’ birth. We look to the present as we see God’s continual breaking into our world, confronting us, enlightening us, and enlarging us as individuals and as a community.
Most important, we look to the future. As we begin a new church year, we are reminded once again of the goal of all our lives as Jesus’ disciples. We are reminded that, just like the beleaguered community to whom Luke was writing, we too are heirs of God’s promises. Together with them, we too can look forward to the coming of the Kingdom of God. We too can catch glimpses of that time when oppressive political systems, war, famine, sickness, genocide, slavery, human trafficking, hatred, and environmental abuse will be no more, when creation will be renewed, and all people will live in peace. For us, as for Luke’s community, the apocalyptic language and images convey good news. For us, as for them, present catastrophes give us hope that the world is moving inexorably toward the coming reign of God. We, like them, are not overwhelmed or beaten down by the chaos in Syria, Egypt, Palestine, or Afghanistan, by the reality of AIDS – yesterday was World AIDS day – or the persistence of hunger and poverty in our midst, by homicides or natural disasters. We, like them, can stand up, raise our heads, and trust in God’s future and in God’s reign.
But we live in the middle time. We trust both that God initiated a radical transformation of the world in the first coming of Jesus, and that God will, in God’s own time, complete that transformation. “When will this be,” we too cry out in despair. All Jesus – or anyone – can answer is that the time is hidden in God. And so, we wait. Although Americans are not a patient people, nevertheless, as Jesus’ disciples we try to wait, with patience, and with hope. But we don’t wait passively. Along with those first disciples, we too are called to be alert and attentive. With Luke’s community we hear the call to live with our eyes focused on the signs that demonstrate God’s reign and to trust that Jesus’ redemption of the world will be completed. Along with the hearers of the letter to the fledgling Christian community at Thessalonica we hear the call to “abound in love for one another and for all” and to strengthen our Advent hearts in holiness. We hear the call to grow as disciples. We hear the call to worship regularly, deepen our own personal relationship with Jesus, and, most important, strengthen our own Christian community, so that it may truly be a community of love, and a witness to the world of Jesus’ power.
As we begin again our liturgical year, the church graciously gives us four weeks to ponder how we might live more deeply into God’s future. Would you like some concrete suggestions? Here are several. First, Jesus tells us to be alert for signs that God’s kingdom is near. I invite you to use these sheets to write down any signs you see this week that God’s kingdom is near. You can post them yourselves on the bulletin board or give them to me or Christina, and we’ll post them. I will summarize them in the e-news. As you begin looking for signs of God’s kingdom, you may be surprised at how often you actually catch glimpses of it.
Second, commit to even a few minutes daily reflection during Advent. If you have internet access subscribe to a set of daily reflections published by CREDO and available by email. If you would like them in hard copy, I can print them out for you. If you listen to podcasts, subscribe to the Advent podcasts of the Anglican Church of Canada. Hang up the Advent calendar map, look at it every day, and follow as many of its suggestions as you can. Or make your own advent wreath, using four candles and any circular candle holder. Light your candles, and then follow the suggestions in “Bringing the Kingdom of God closer,” in your bulletin insert.
Finally, I’d like to suggest something really radical. In a recent article in his Sojourners blog Evangelical social and political commentator Jim Wallis noted that Americans plan to spend more this Christmas season on consumer gifts than they did last year, but give less to charities and ministries that help the poor. Many say they are less likely to give a charitable gift as a holiday present. In response, Wallis suggested that we start what he is calling the “Christmas Tithe.” Here’s how it works. “Keep track of all your holiday spending for gifts this year, and then tithe a percentage of that amount to an organization that directly serves the poor. A tithe is traditionally 10 percent, but you could decide to do less or even more. But make a decision about your Christmas tithe and pledge it to groups that are now struggling to respond to the highest number of Americans in poverty in half a century, and to those who focus on the poorest and most vulnerable around the world. This is a time to give more – not less.”1 Do this together with your family. You can even involve the kids. Episcopal Relief and Development, Habit for Humanity, Heifer, World Vision, and many similar organizations even have “catalogues” from which you can choose gifts. Or focus on local organizations. Choose your gifts on Christmas Day, after you have opened your own. Then thank God, both for all that you have and for the chance to share your wealth with those who have so much less. In addition to all that we do through the organizations to which we belong, Wallis reminds us that we grow personally through helping to advance God’s kingdom through our very own efforts.
These shadows will change. We, as individuals and as faith communities, are integral and essential to what God is up to in the world. In Advent we are called to remember that God comes to us unexpectedly and wonderfully, that God renews our hope, that God delivers on God’s promises, and that God invites us into partnership with God in bringing those promises to fulfillment. As God’s partners, we work with God knowing that the final completion of the renewal of creation lies in God’s hands. And we rejoice, trusting that God will accomplish God’s holy will.
1. “Starting the Christmas Tithe,” SojoMail 11.29.2012.
Do you remember the story? After the ghost of his dead partner Jacob Marley visits him, miserly, isolated Ebenezer Scrooge is led away from his dark chambers by three spirits. Through the eyes of the Spirit of Christmas Past, Scrooge revisits his earlier life. His eyes light up as he sees again the bountiful Christmas celebration presided over by his generous employer Mr. Fezziwig, and he ruefully shakes his head as he sees himself turn away his lovely fiancée in his pursuit of wealth. With the Ghost of Christmas Present, Scrooge sees with horror the desperate situation of the poor in nineteenth-century London. He notes with surprise that, despite their poverty and the frail health of their youngest child, Tiny Tim, the family of his much-abused clerk, Bob Cratchett, finds true joy sharing their meager Christmas feast. In an abrupt turn-about, the silent hooded Ghost of Christmas Future allows Scrooge to see the Cratchetts’ grief at the death of Tiny Tim and his own lonely unmourned death. In the most poignant scene of the story, Scrooge cries out, “Can these shadows be changed?” To his and our joy, the visions of the three Spirits leave Scrooge a changed man, and the shadows can and do change.
We have begun a new church year. It is the season of Advent. In Advent, like Scrooge, we too live in three time frames at once. We look to the past as we remember God’s promises to Israel. In our reading from the prophet Jeremiah, addressed to the community in exile from Jerusalem, we hear again God’s promise to rebuild Jerusalem and ultimately to establish a new reign of justice and righteousness. We also look to the past as we prepare to celebrate the first coming of Jesus, his birth at Bethlehem, and we ponder how God began to fulfill God’s promises in Jesus’ birth. We look to the present as we see God’s continual breaking into our world, confronting us, enlightening us, and enlarging us as individuals and as a community.
Most important, we look to the future. As we begin a new church year, we are reminded once again of the goal of all our lives as Jesus’ disciples. We are reminded that, just like the beleaguered community to whom Luke was writing, we too are heirs of God’s promises. Together with them, we too can look forward to the coming of the Kingdom of God. We too can catch glimpses of that time when oppressive political systems, war, famine, sickness, genocide, slavery, human trafficking, hatred, and environmental abuse will be no more, when creation will be renewed, and all people will live in peace. For us, as for Luke’s community, the apocalyptic language and images convey good news. For us, as for them, present catastrophes give us hope that the world is moving inexorably toward the coming reign of God. We, like them, are not overwhelmed or beaten down by the chaos in Syria, Egypt, Palestine, or Afghanistan, by the reality of AIDS – yesterday was World AIDS day – or the persistence of hunger and poverty in our midst, by homicides or natural disasters. We, like them, can stand up, raise our heads, and trust in God’s future and in God’s reign.
But we live in the middle time. We trust both that God initiated a radical transformation of the world in the first coming of Jesus, and that God will, in God’s own time, complete that transformation. “When will this be,” we too cry out in despair. All Jesus – or anyone – can answer is that the time is hidden in God. And so, we wait. Although Americans are not a patient people, nevertheless, as Jesus’ disciples we try to wait, with patience, and with hope. But we don’t wait passively. Along with those first disciples, we too are called to be alert and attentive. With Luke’s community we hear the call to live with our eyes focused on the signs that demonstrate God’s reign and to trust that Jesus’ redemption of the world will be completed. Along with the hearers of the letter to the fledgling Christian community at Thessalonica we hear the call to “abound in love for one another and for all” and to strengthen our Advent hearts in holiness. We hear the call to grow as disciples. We hear the call to worship regularly, deepen our own personal relationship with Jesus, and, most important, strengthen our own Christian community, so that it may truly be a community of love, and a witness to the world of Jesus’ power.
As we begin again our liturgical year, the church graciously gives us four weeks to ponder how we might live more deeply into God’s future. Would you like some concrete suggestions? Here are several. First, Jesus tells us to be alert for signs that God’s kingdom is near. I invite you to use these sheets to write down any signs you see this week that God’s kingdom is near. You can post them yourselves on the bulletin board or give them to me or Christina, and we’ll post them. I will summarize them in the e-news. As you begin looking for signs of God’s kingdom, you may be surprised at how often you actually catch glimpses of it.
Second, commit to even a few minutes daily reflection during Advent. If you have internet access subscribe to a set of daily reflections published by CREDO and available by email. If you would like them in hard copy, I can print them out for you. If you listen to podcasts, subscribe to the Advent podcasts of the Anglican Church of Canada. Hang up the Advent calendar map, look at it every day, and follow as many of its suggestions as you can. Or make your own advent wreath, using four candles and any circular candle holder. Light your candles, and then follow the suggestions in “Bringing the Kingdom of God closer,” in your bulletin insert.
Finally, I’d like to suggest something really radical. In a recent article in his Sojourners blog Evangelical social and political commentator Jim Wallis noted that Americans plan to spend more this Christmas season on consumer gifts than they did last year, but give less to charities and ministries that help the poor. Many say they are less likely to give a charitable gift as a holiday present. In response, Wallis suggested that we start what he is calling the “Christmas Tithe.” Here’s how it works. “Keep track of all your holiday spending for gifts this year, and then tithe a percentage of that amount to an organization that directly serves the poor. A tithe is traditionally 10 percent, but you could decide to do less or even more. But make a decision about your Christmas tithe and pledge it to groups that are now struggling to respond to the highest number of Americans in poverty in half a century, and to those who focus on the poorest and most vulnerable around the world. This is a time to give more – not less.”1 Do this together with your family. You can even involve the kids. Episcopal Relief and Development, Habit for Humanity, Heifer, World Vision, and many similar organizations even have “catalogues” from which you can choose gifts. Or focus on local organizations. Choose your gifts on Christmas Day, after you have opened your own. Then thank God, both for all that you have and for the chance to share your wealth with those who have so much less. In addition to all that we do through the organizations to which we belong, Wallis reminds us that we grow personally through helping to advance God’s kingdom through our very own efforts.
These shadows will change. We, as individuals and as faith communities, are integral and essential to what God is up to in the world. In Advent we are called to remember that God comes to us unexpectedly and wonderfully, that God renews our hope, that God delivers on God’s promises, and that God invites us into partnership with God in bringing those promises to fulfillment. As God’s partners, we work with God knowing that the final completion of the renewal of creation lies in God’s hands. And we rejoice, trusting that God will accomplish God’s holy will.
1. “Starting the Christmas Tithe,” SojoMail 11.29.2012.
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