We’re an impatient people. We want what we want when we want it. Think about what was once called “mail order.” We pored through the Sears and Roebuck catalog, then we filled out the order form, dropped it in a mailbox, and waited. Now, open a website, point, click, and done, and your order is at your door two days later. Or think about computers. In the late ‘80s, the dark ages, we had little monochrome screens, you could read a novel waiting for programs to load, and polish off another novel waiting for your email messages to come in over a dial-up connection. Now, we’re on instantly, and downloads come in at warp speed. And you just better answer my email or text within twenty-four hours!
We’re an impatient people. Except in Roman Catholic, Episcopal, and a few Protestant churches. Unlike the rest of the world around us, we have not rushed headlong into Christmas. As you see, except for the Advent wreath, there are no decorations or trees here – and we won’t put them up until after the service on Advent 4. We won’t sing any Christmas carols until Christmas tide. And if you came to hear “comfort and joy” in the sermons for next four Sundays, you are in the wrong place. So did the priest-in-charge steal Christmas, like Dr. Seuss’ Grinch? Is she like Mr. Scrooge, stingily dismissing Christmas with, “Bah, humbug?”
Not really. We have begun a new church year, and with it, the holy season of Advent. It’s a quiet, solemn, and serious season. You can see that seriousness reflected in the color of our vestments and paraments – they’re a subdued blue. We’re using our liturgy with the old seventeenth-century language, honoring our history as we pray in more solemn tones. Even the settings of the sung parts of our liturgy are simpler.
While the world outside us may be in the throes of the “Christmas season,” the church gives us a valuable gift in the quieter season of Advent. We can slow down, take a deep breath, and listen for the stirrings of the Holy Spirit. More important, we can take the time for quiet reflection on what God has done, what God is doing among us now, and what God will do in the future.
Advent initially was a forty-day season of fasting, to prepare for the baptisms that would take place on Epiphany, January 6th. In fact Orthodox Christians, who emphasize Epiphany rather than Christmas, still keep a forty-day fast to prepare for Epiphany. Western Christians like us keep Advent for the four Sundays before Christmas. Our lessons for the first Sunday in Advent focus on God’s promises for the future. John the Baptist thunders his message on the second and third Sundays. Only on the fourth Sunday do we look ahead to Christmas, when we hear Mary’s response to the Annunciation. In this season of Advent, the lectionary readings and the special devotions that the church invites us to undertake are meant to awaken us, to make us more aware of the surprising ways God comes to us, and to enable us to wait patiently and attentively for God to continue to act.
All our readings for today remind us of our call to wait patiently and attentively for God. Jeremiah’s prophecies were first written in the midst of the chaos and despair that followed the sack of Jerusalem and the exile to Babylon in 586 BC. To remind people of God’s covenant with them, the prophet uses an image familiar to the people of his time, viz., a king who would victoriously lead them out of exile. He exhorts his hearers to remember God’s promises, especially the covenant that God made with the Israelites after the Exodus. In that covenant, God declared that Israel would be God’s people forever. The prophet also reminds his downcast people to remember God’s promises to David, which we heard last week in David’s last words, and especially David’s confidence that God had made an everlasting covenant with him. As a response to the reading from Jeremiah, Psalm 25 also calls us to remember God’s promises and to trust God to deliver on God’s promises.
Paul’s letter to the Christians in Thessalonica was Paul’s first letter, written about 50 AD, to one of the earliest of the new communities of Jesus’ followers. Christians in this community were earnestly waiting for Christ to return, and they believed that they would see his return before they themselves died. We don’t know whether Paul himself believed that Christ’s return was imminent. Even so, Paul clearly exhorts these new believers to wait for Christ, whenever he comes, with gratitude, love, and holiness.
The gospel according to Luke – we will be hearing a lot from Luke in this third year of the Revised Common Lectionary – was written in the ‘80s AD, after the fall of Jerusalem, and the destruction of the Jewish Temple by the Romans. Here too the evangelist uses symbols his hearers would appreciate. This part of Luke’s gospel is apocalyptic, like the book of Revelation, i.e., it is symbolic writing that looks ahead to the future. In using apocalyptic symbols, the evangelist reminds his hearers that despite the chaos and destruction that they see all around them God is at work. As faithful followers of Jesus, they are therefore called to “stand up and raise your heads,” i.e., they are to be watchful for further signs of God at work, and they are to trust that God’s reign is near. More important, they are to trust that they are already living in God’s realm, despite what they see around them. As Jesus himself had proclaimed, “The Kingdom of God is at hand,” i.e., it is here already. Even as they trust that God has already inaugurated God’s realm, even as they wait for its final culmination, they are to use God’s gifts to them wisely, not squandering God’s gifts in indulgence, drunkenness, and worldly cares, but watching and waiting patiently and attentively for signs of God at work.
And so, in this first Sunday of the new church year, in this first week of Advent, we wait patiently, with hope and holiness. We look attentively for signs of God’s presence, trusting that God is at work and seeking ways to partner with God in God’s work. In our personal lives, we savor the gift of Advent, the gift of time to reflect on the ways that God was, is, and will be present to us, changing and shaping us into the people God created us to be. Can you use this gift of Advent to find time for more intentional prayer? I invite you to use, for example, the Forward Movement meditations in the booklet we are giving you. I also invite you to light your Advent candles, perhaps at the same time that you use the booklet. Can you take some time for self-reflection? Perhaps at the end of the day? Can you see God at work in your own life?
Can you see God at work in our parish? I recently learned that someone who had once been connected to this parish left us, because it seemed to this person that St. Peter’s had no future, and that the parish was dying. That’s not what I see. Yes, the parish is smaller than it was in twenty-five years ago, but so are many Episcopal parishes, especially in small towns. Even so, this is not a dying parish. God is at work here. I see a parish that has begun to grow again, especially with people deeply committed to prayer, worship, and mission. I see a parish that has kept the red doors open, raised up a deacon, and been given a resident priest-to-be. I see a parish that is even now discerning the new ministries into which God might be leading us. Can we wait patiently and attentively for what God might do next among us?
It’s hard to miss the chaos and destruction in the world outside our parish. Paris, Beirut, Mali, Charleston, Oregon, Colorado, Phoenix. As I wrote this, a gunman had wounded several people and was holed up in a Planned Parenthood facility in Colorado Springs, Colorado. Meanwhile, global warming is playing havoc with our planet and causing ever more severely destructive weather. Is God at work? Are there signs of hope? There are. On Friday, for example, we learned that all the women kidnapped by Boko Haram in Nigeria have been released. And today, as we turn our hearts to God in this peaceful, sacred space, after only two weeks since the attacks in Paris, 147 world leaders have arrived in the city for a mega-conference on climate change. God willing, the talks will produce solid agreements among all these nations that will help reduce greenhouse gas emissions. And I see other signs of God at work. I see community gardens, solar panels and other forms of renewable energy, composting and recycling, thirty-mile meals and farmers’ markets, and more fuel-efficient cars. I see a Habitat for Humanity group that built a house in honor of three Muslims who were murdered in North Carolina. I see The National, a Scottish newspaper, welcoming Syrian refugees with the banner headline, “Welcome to Scotland.”
So in this holy season of Advent I wait. We wait. We trust in God’s promises. We wait patiently for God for fulfill God’s promises. We watch for signs and wonders, in our own lives, in the lives of this parish, and in the world around us. And we attentively seek God’s leading in our work to bring God’s realm ever nearer.
Showing posts with label Advent 1. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Advent 1. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Grace to You
“Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”
It was about 54 AD. About eighteen months previously, Paul and others had founded a Christian community in the primarily Roman seaport of Corinth. After crossing the Aegean Sea and settling in Ephesus, Paul continued to write to the fledgling Corinthian community, advising them on their new life together. Then reports reached Paul about conflicts and divisions within the Corinthian community. There were conflicts between those who ate meat dedicated to the Greek and Roman gods and those who refused to eat meat from shrines, between those of higher social status and those of the working classes, between those who were married and those who remained celibate, and between those who had followed Apollos, one of the other evangelists, and those who had followed Paul. Worst of all were the reports that some of the Corinthians were aggravating others by claiming to have – and even boasting about – special spiritual gifts. Sighing, Paul called in his scribe and began to dictate yet another letter.
As was his wont, Paul began his letter by giving the Corinthians a theological grounding for understanding who they were as a community. Although he would address all their various conflicts specifically, he first wanted to make sure that the Corinthians had a theological foundation for their life as a community committed to Christ. And so, after greeting them, Paul reminds them that it is God who has brought them together as a community. In this reminder, he implies that, as a Christian community comprising a disparate group of people, not related to each other by blood, marriage, class, or ethnicity, they differ from almost every other human community. More important, they have been enriched with gifts by the grace of God. This grace now active among them is a dynamic power, given to them so that they may bear fruit as a community. Because grace is the source of their gifts, there is no room among them for boasting or division. Most important of all, as a community grounded not in human power or authority but in the grace of God, they are now an odd people in the midst of a divided world.
It is fitting that we hear such a reminder, that we are grounded in God’s grace, at the beginning of a new church year. It is fitting that the church reminds us, as we begin the holy season of Advent, that we are all here by God’s grace. The world around us – and I risk sounding like a Grinch for even saying it – has frantically begun preparing for, even celebrating, Christmas. Stores and online sites bid us celebrate Jesus’ birth by maxing out our credit cards, while we try to escape smiling Santas, decorated trees, and sentimental Christmas music. It’s enough to make me sympathize with old Scrooge and mutter, “Bah, humbug!”
We are not preparing for Christmas – not yet. We have entered a different season. In Advent, the church has given us a slower, more reflective time, a time when we can pause, turn toward God, and remember who we truly are. Our readings from Scripture, even our collect, remind us that we are an odd people, who, unlike the world around us, are actually living in more than one time zone at once. The prophet Isaiah wrote early in the fourth century BC to a people who had returned from exile in Babylon to find Jerusalem in ruins. We hear the prophet’s reminder to them – and by extension to us -- of all that God had done for them in the past and his anticipation of God’s help, both in the present and in the days ahead. The writer of the Gospel according to Mark similarly wrote during a time when Jerusalem was in turmoil – and indeed would be destroyed by the Romans shortly after the writing of this gospel. In today’s reading, we catch up with Jesus just before his arrest and execution. We hear Jesus’ prediction of God’s future intervention in the world and the eventual consummation of God’s reign. We too then hear Jesus bid his friends to stay alert in the present and wait patiently for God to complete God’s work.
Our reading from Paul’s letter to the Christians in Corinth helps us to live faithfully in all three time zones. Reflect on your own lives and remember all that God has done for you personally. In fact, there’s no better spiritual exercise than to take the time at the end of the day and reflect on how God has been present to you in your day or to that point in your life. Then walk around this church, read the windows and the plaques, look at the pictures in the hallway, and remember all that God has done for this parish. God has blessed this place and the people who have worshipped here for more than 150 years!
More important, as we continue to hope for the coming of God’s reign, and as we commit ourselves to living faithfully in the present, we remember who we are as a community now. Like the Corinthian Christians, we have been brought together by God. Look around you. What a motley crew we are! We range in age from three to nine-ty three. We are of different ethnicities, different classes, different genders, and different sexual orientations. We have converged on this place from different parts of the country, maybe even the globe. God has given us many spiritual gifts: some are musicians, some are preachers, some are readers, some can tell others of their Christian journey, some are devoted in prayer, and some are the hands of the parish reaching out in service and ministry. Most important, all of us are grounded in grace, grace that bears fruit in good works. And what a wonderful day to celebrate that grace, as we continue a ministry in Loaves and Fishes that this parish has given to the surrounding community for over ten years. And, yes, we are called to be different from the rest of the world. Like the Corinthian Christians, we too are called to be an odd people in a divided world.
Yet, for all that, it’s all too easy to despair as we look around us. The divisions in our world are all too apparent. However you get your news, whether by newspaper, or television, or via tablet or smart phone, or even if you try to escape all the news media, we are bombarded by news of Israelis and Palestinians, terrorist bombings, violence against women and gays, and poverty in the US – no wonder food banks are thriving. Once again the deaths of John Crawford in a Dayton Walmart, Tamir Rice in a Cleveland park, and Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, remind us of the deep divisions in our world, our sad history as a nation, and our complicity in fostering racial and ethnic conflict.
Just when even I am ready to despair that God’s reign will ever be realized, I open the newspaper and God’s grace leaps out anew. Out from the Columbus Dispatch this week came the story of the Revs. Gerald Rice and Doug Duble.1 Twelve years ago Pastor Rice looked out at his predominantly black congregation and felt the Lord telling him that it was time to make his church more diverse. “I felt a real burden in my heart that our church was predominantly African-American, but that was not God’s heart for us to be,” he said. Meanwhile, Pastor Duble accepted the call of his predominantly white church, making sure the congregation understood his multicultural vision. A member of Rice’s congregation introduced the two. As they became friends, they realized they shared the same vision and began planning and dreaming. Two years later, the two congregations came together to form the nondenominational Judah Christian Community. Now, ten years later, the congregation numbers over 300 regular worshipers, about 65 percent black and 35 percent white. Bringing the two congregations together took time. Overcoming differences in worship style, music, and even dress, required effort, and some members in both groups were not ready to compromise or change. Now the congregation attracts those who are drawn to the mix, who have come to value the multicultural community. Most important is the love that permeates the community, love of God, and love of each other. “Every Sunday is like a celebration in our ministry,” Rice said. “The joy and love show in here, it’s just incredible. If you like being hugged, you will be hugged in this church. You will be hugged, and you will be welcomed.”
In Advent, we continue to hope that God’s grace will enable us to overcome our divisions and conflicts, that God’s grace will continue to bear fruit in us, that we may “do all such good works as [God has] prepared for us to walk in,” and that God’s reign has already begun in us and is even now coming closer. Grace to you and peace from God, our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
1. JoAnne Viviano, “Church has proved it’s serious about diversity,” Columbus Dispatch, November 28, 2104, B6.
It was about 54 AD. About eighteen months previously, Paul and others had founded a Christian community in the primarily Roman seaport of Corinth. After crossing the Aegean Sea and settling in Ephesus, Paul continued to write to the fledgling Corinthian community, advising them on their new life together. Then reports reached Paul about conflicts and divisions within the Corinthian community. There were conflicts between those who ate meat dedicated to the Greek and Roman gods and those who refused to eat meat from shrines, between those of higher social status and those of the working classes, between those who were married and those who remained celibate, and between those who had followed Apollos, one of the other evangelists, and those who had followed Paul. Worst of all were the reports that some of the Corinthians were aggravating others by claiming to have – and even boasting about – special spiritual gifts. Sighing, Paul called in his scribe and began to dictate yet another letter.
As was his wont, Paul began his letter by giving the Corinthians a theological grounding for understanding who they were as a community. Although he would address all their various conflicts specifically, he first wanted to make sure that the Corinthians had a theological foundation for their life as a community committed to Christ. And so, after greeting them, Paul reminds them that it is God who has brought them together as a community. In this reminder, he implies that, as a Christian community comprising a disparate group of people, not related to each other by blood, marriage, class, or ethnicity, they differ from almost every other human community. More important, they have been enriched with gifts by the grace of God. This grace now active among them is a dynamic power, given to them so that they may bear fruit as a community. Because grace is the source of their gifts, there is no room among them for boasting or division. Most important of all, as a community grounded not in human power or authority but in the grace of God, they are now an odd people in the midst of a divided world.
It is fitting that we hear such a reminder, that we are grounded in God’s grace, at the beginning of a new church year. It is fitting that the church reminds us, as we begin the holy season of Advent, that we are all here by God’s grace. The world around us – and I risk sounding like a Grinch for even saying it – has frantically begun preparing for, even celebrating, Christmas. Stores and online sites bid us celebrate Jesus’ birth by maxing out our credit cards, while we try to escape smiling Santas, decorated trees, and sentimental Christmas music. It’s enough to make me sympathize with old Scrooge and mutter, “Bah, humbug!”
We are not preparing for Christmas – not yet. We have entered a different season. In Advent, the church has given us a slower, more reflective time, a time when we can pause, turn toward God, and remember who we truly are. Our readings from Scripture, even our collect, remind us that we are an odd people, who, unlike the world around us, are actually living in more than one time zone at once. The prophet Isaiah wrote early in the fourth century BC to a people who had returned from exile in Babylon to find Jerusalem in ruins. We hear the prophet’s reminder to them – and by extension to us -- of all that God had done for them in the past and his anticipation of God’s help, both in the present and in the days ahead. The writer of the Gospel according to Mark similarly wrote during a time when Jerusalem was in turmoil – and indeed would be destroyed by the Romans shortly after the writing of this gospel. In today’s reading, we catch up with Jesus just before his arrest and execution. We hear Jesus’ prediction of God’s future intervention in the world and the eventual consummation of God’s reign. We too then hear Jesus bid his friends to stay alert in the present and wait patiently for God to complete God’s work.
Our reading from Paul’s letter to the Christians in Corinth helps us to live faithfully in all three time zones. Reflect on your own lives and remember all that God has done for you personally. In fact, there’s no better spiritual exercise than to take the time at the end of the day and reflect on how God has been present to you in your day or to that point in your life. Then walk around this church, read the windows and the plaques, look at the pictures in the hallway, and remember all that God has done for this parish. God has blessed this place and the people who have worshipped here for more than 150 years!
More important, as we continue to hope for the coming of God’s reign, and as we commit ourselves to living faithfully in the present, we remember who we are as a community now. Like the Corinthian Christians, we have been brought together by God. Look around you. What a motley crew we are! We range in age from three to nine-ty three. We are of different ethnicities, different classes, different genders, and different sexual orientations. We have converged on this place from different parts of the country, maybe even the globe. God has given us many spiritual gifts: some are musicians, some are preachers, some are readers, some can tell others of their Christian journey, some are devoted in prayer, and some are the hands of the parish reaching out in service and ministry. Most important, all of us are grounded in grace, grace that bears fruit in good works. And what a wonderful day to celebrate that grace, as we continue a ministry in Loaves and Fishes that this parish has given to the surrounding community for over ten years. And, yes, we are called to be different from the rest of the world. Like the Corinthian Christians, we too are called to be an odd people in a divided world.
Yet, for all that, it’s all too easy to despair as we look around us. The divisions in our world are all too apparent. However you get your news, whether by newspaper, or television, or via tablet or smart phone, or even if you try to escape all the news media, we are bombarded by news of Israelis and Palestinians, terrorist bombings, violence against women and gays, and poverty in the US – no wonder food banks are thriving. Once again the deaths of John Crawford in a Dayton Walmart, Tamir Rice in a Cleveland park, and Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, remind us of the deep divisions in our world, our sad history as a nation, and our complicity in fostering racial and ethnic conflict.
Just when even I am ready to despair that God’s reign will ever be realized, I open the newspaper and God’s grace leaps out anew. Out from the Columbus Dispatch this week came the story of the Revs. Gerald Rice and Doug Duble.1 Twelve years ago Pastor Rice looked out at his predominantly black congregation and felt the Lord telling him that it was time to make his church more diverse. “I felt a real burden in my heart that our church was predominantly African-American, but that was not God’s heart for us to be,” he said. Meanwhile, Pastor Duble accepted the call of his predominantly white church, making sure the congregation understood his multicultural vision. A member of Rice’s congregation introduced the two. As they became friends, they realized they shared the same vision and began planning and dreaming. Two years later, the two congregations came together to form the nondenominational Judah Christian Community. Now, ten years later, the congregation numbers over 300 regular worshipers, about 65 percent black and 35 percent white. Bringing the two congregations together took time. Overcoming differences in worship style, music, and even dress, required effort, and some members in both groups were not ready to compromise or change. Now the congregation attracts those who are drawn to the mix, who have come to value the multicultural community. Most important is the love that permeates the community, love of God, and love of each other. “Every Sunday is like a celebration in our ministry,” Rice said. “The joy and love show in here, it’s just incredible. If you like being hugged, you will be hugged in this church. You will be hugged, and you will be welcomed.”
In Advent, we continue to hope that God’s grace will enable us to overcome our divisions and conflicts, that God’s grace will continue to bear fruit in us, that we may “do all such good works as [God has] prepared for us to walk in,” and that God’s reign has already begun in us and is even now coming closer. Grace to you and peace from God, our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
1. JoAnne Viviano, “Church has proved it’s serious about diversity,” Columbus Dispatch, November 28, 2104, B6.
Sunday, December 1, 2013
Put on the Armor of Light
“… the night is far gone, the day is near. Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light ….”
Why do we light candles on a wreath of greens? Although the Advent wreath has been part of our tradition as Episcopalians for a long time, no one quite knows its origin. Some think that pre-Germanic people used wreaths with lit candles during December as a sign of hope for the warmth and light of spring. Others think that Scandinavian people lighted candles around a wheel and prayed to the god of light to turn “the wheel of earth” back toward the sun and bring back longer and warmer days. By the Middle Ages, Christians had adopted this tradition and used Advent wreaths to help prepare for Christmas.
Actually, it’s not hard to see why the Advent wreath became a Christian symbol, and why we still use it today. The greens of the wreath – evergreens – remind us of continuing life. The circle, which has neither beginning nor end, symbolizes the eternity of God, the immortality of our own souls, and the new life of the resurrection. The purple candles symbolize the prayer, sacrifice, and good works that are part of this season. The pink candle, which we light on the third Sunday in Advent, Gaudete Sunday, or Rejoice Sunday, symbolizes joy and hope, joy for the celebration of Jesus’ first coming and hope for his expected second coming to judge the world and renew creation. Finally, the light of the candles signifies Christ, the Light of the World, the light that dispels darkness, the light of the new day that is already dawning.
It is just this wonderful image of the light of the dawning of a new day that we heard in our reading from Paul’s letter to the Roman Christians. Unlike his other letters, Paul was not writing here to a community that he had personally founded. And this may well have been his last letter, as it sounds something like his “last will and testament.” If you read it through – and I encourage you to go beyond the snippets of the letter that we hear in the lectionary – you will discover that Paul spends much of it wrestling with the implications of the transformed – and transforming – way of life to which he understands disciples of Jesus to be called. Although Paul respects the way of life of the Jews around him, as a follower of Jesus he has come to realize that the ritual requirements and dietary restrictions of Hebrew law no longer bind followers of Jesus. Rather, Jesus’ disciples are called to a life epitomized by love.
We hear this call clearly in the verses immediately preceding our lection: “Owe no one anything, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. The commandments, ‘You shall not commit adultery; You shall not murder; You shall not steal; You shall not covet’; and any other commandment, are summed up in this word, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law” (Rom. 13:8-10). Do you hear the commandment in this kind of love? Love here is not a sappy, sentimental, or romantic feeling; it is a way of behaving that wants only to benefit another person. Paul’s charge here then? As followers of Jesus we are called to a transformed way of life that is grounded in love.
In the piece of this wonderful letter that we just heard, Paul uses the images of night and dawn to emphasize his point. In effect, he is telling the Roman Christians – with some urgency – to get up and get dressed for a new day. Whether or not the second coming of Jesus is imminent – and it’s not clear what at this point in his life Paul believed about Jesus’ second coming – it is clear that the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus brought about a turning point in time, a “new day.” From now on, Christians are called to dream with God of a new heaven, a new earth, a new way of being human beings made in God’s image. As those baptized into his body, the Roman Christians are now living in a new time. Just as those who were baptized took off their old clothes and put on new white robes, the Roman Christians – and we – have entered a new time, a time in which we are called to exchange the nightgowns and pajamas of the old life for the “armor of light,” for Sunday clothes, for the clothes of newly transformed people.
As we begin preparing to enter into that new day, as we lay out the armor of light, what, we might ask, are the night clothes that we must first take off? One way to answer that question is that we are told – commanded – to give up all those old habits that dull our senses and all those uncaring behaviors that destroy our relationships. Here’s another way of thinking about what night clothes we might remove. To put on the joy of the new day, the true joy of this season, first we might remove “the fears and pains that weigh us down, that we carry around like heavy wool coats, that we try to wrap up in festive themes” during this “holiday season.”1 Perhaps what we really need is an oasis of silence, a place to be quiet for a few moments, a place where we might open our hearts and share with God all that is really on our minds. .
Second, we might take off our feelings of isolation. Although our culture encourages our hyper-individualism, as Christians we are never only single cells. We are called to be members of a community, always in relationship with others, in families, workplaces, parishes, villages, and communities across the globe. While we are enjoying our full refrigerators and warm houses, this is the time to take off our blinders. This is the time to see that there are many people – some right here in this town – who have no parties, no warm clothes, no heat, and no reason for joy or hope. And third perhaps we might take off our guilt. Putting on the armor of light, the clothes of a new day, does not require us to be ashamed of what we have. Rather, we are always called to share with others some of the many gifts with which God has blessed us.
We too are included in Paul’s commandments. We too are called to take off night clothes and put on the clothes of a new day. What might that look like at St. Peter’s? Perhaps if we wish to live into a new day as a parish we might continue to ensure that our worship truly reflects our tradition and is true to the people we are today, in 2013. Our life as a Christian community in the Anglican tradition did not stop in 1549 or 1662 or even 1928. We must also continue to grow in our faith and Christian practice, both as individuals and as a parish. You have all continued to grow as people since middle school and high school. Has your understanding of your faith similarly continued to grow? More to the point, are we helping each other grow as mature, faithful people? Finally, we must also grow in our understanding of ministry. To what new ministries in this new day is God calling us? Do we have the courage to take off old ways of doing things and put on new responses to the needs of those around us? Are we far-sighted enough to see on the horizon God’s reign breaking in?
I spent the summer of 2006 doing a chaplaincy internship at Children’s Hospital in Columbus. Nine times during the ten weeks I was there I was called to be on call for twenty-four hours. One of those nine nights I waited with three generations of an anxious family while a newborn infant was in surgery. The prognosis had not been good. Indeed, after some time, the surgeon came out and told the family that the surgery had not helped, and that the infant would be taken off artificial life support. At the request of the family, I baptized the infant and waited with them until he died. Then we wept and prayed together. It was a long night. As I was returning to my little room on an upper floor of the hospital, the first streaks of dawn were already appearing. As I prayed one last time for the child and his family, I did so with a heavy heart, but also with the certainty that God would receive him, bless his grieving family, and eventually bring us all to that day when grief and crying are no more.
It’s still dark out. But the first streaks of dawn are already appearing on the horizon. We the followers of Jesus Christ, crucified and risen, continue to pray for his coming, into our own lives today, and into the future of which he has already shown us a glimpse. As we light our Advent candles, as we enjoy their glow, we remember the light that is coming. We rejoice in God’s gifts to us, and, with the Roman Christians, and all of Christ’s faithful disciples, we put on the new clothes of that glorious day.
1. Catherine A. Caimono at faithandleadership.com (11/23/10), quoted in Synthesis December 1, 2013; and following. well.
Why do we light candles on a wreath of greens? Although the Advent wreath has been part of our tradition as Episcopalians for a long time, no one quite knows its origin. Some think that pre-Germanic people used wreaths with lit candles during December as a sign of hope for the warmth and light of spring. Others think that Scandinavian people lighted candles around a wheel and prayed to the god of light to turn “the wheel of earth” back toward the sun and bring back longer and warmer days. By the Middle Ages, Christians had adopted this tradition and used Advent wreaths to help prepare for Christmas.
Actually, it’s not hard to see why the Advent wreath became a Christian symbol, and why we still use it today. The greens of the wreath – evergreens – remind us of continuing life. The circle, which has neither beginning nor end, symbolizes the eternity of God, the immortality of our own souls, and the new life of the resurrection. The purple candles symbolize the prayer, sacrifice, and good works that are part of this season. The pink candle, which we light on the third Sunday in Advent, Gaudete Sunday, or Rejoice Sunday, symbolizes joy and hope, joy for the celebration of Jesus’ first coming and hope for his expected second coming to judge the world and renew creation. Finally, the light of the candles signifies Christ, the Light of the World, the light that dispels darkness, the light of the new day that is already dawning.
It is just this wonderful image of the light of the dawning of a new day that we heard in our reading from Paul’s letter to the Roman Christians. Unlike his other letters, Paul was not writing here to a community that he had personally founded. And this may well have been his last letter, as it sounds something like his “last will and testament.” If you read it through – and I encourage you to go beyond the snippets of the letter that we hear in the lectionary – you will discover that Paul spends much of it wrestling with the implications of the transformed – and transforming – way of life to which he understands disciples of Jesus to be called. Although Paul respects the way of life of the Jews around him, as a follower of Jesus he has come to realize that the ritual requirements and dietary restrictions of Hebrew law no longer bind followers of Jesus. Rather, Jesus’ disciples are called to a life epitomized by love.
We hear this call clearly in the verses immediately preceding our lection: “Owe no one anything, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. The commandments, ‘You shall not commit adultery; You shall not murder; You shall not steal; You shall not covet’; and any other commandment, are summed up in this word, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law” (Rom. 13:8-10). Do you hear the commandment in this kind of love? Love here is not a sappy, sentimental, or romantic feeling; it is a way of behaving that wants only to benefit another person. Paul’s charge here then? As followers of Jesus we are called to a transformed way of life that is grounded in love.
In the piece of this wonderful letter that we just heard, Paul uses the images of night and dawn to emphasize his point. In effect, he is telling the Roman Christians – with some urgency – to get up and get dressed for a new day. Whether or not the second coming of Jesus is imminent – and it’s not clear what at this point in his life Paul believed about Jesus’ second coming – it is clear that the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus brought about a turning point in time, a “new day.” From now on, Christians are called to dream with God of a new heaven, a new earth, a new way of being human beings made in God’s image. As those baptized into his body, the Roman Christians are now living in a new time. Just as those who were baptized took off their old clothes and put on new white robes, the Roman Christians – and we – have entered a new time, a time in which we are called to exchange the nightgowns and pajamas of the old life for the “armor of light,” for Sunday clothes, for the clothes of newly transformed people.
As we begin preparing to enter into that new day, as we lay out the armor of light, what, we might ask, are the night clothes that we must first take off? One way to answer that question is that we are told – commanded – to give up all those old habits that dull our senses and all those uncaring behaviors that destroy our relationships. Here’s another way of thinking about what night clothes we might remove. To put on the joy of the new day, the true joy of this season, first we might remove “the fears and pains that weigh us down, that we carry around like heavy wool coats, that we try to wrap up in festive themes” during this “holiday season.”1 Perhaps what we really need is an oasis of silence, a place to be quiet for a few moments, a place where we might open our hearts and share with God all that is really on our minds. .
Second, we might take off our feelings of isolation. Although our culture encourages our hyper-individualism, as Christians we are never only single cells. We are called to be members of a community, always in relationship with others, in families, workplaces, parishes, villages, and communities across the globe. While we are enjoying our full refrigerators and warm houses, this is the time to take off our blinders. This is the time to see that there are many people – some right here in this town – who have no parties, no warm clothes, no heat, and no reason for joy or hope. And third perhaps we might take off our guilt. Putting on the armor of light, the clothes of a new day, does not require us to be ashamed of what we have. Rather, we are always called to share with others some of the many gifts with which God has blessed us.
We too are included in Paul’s commandments. We too are called to take off night clothes and put on the clothes of a new day. What might that look like at St. Peter’s? Perhaps if we wish to live into a new day as a parish we might continue to ensure that our worship truly reflects our tradition and is true to the people we are today, in 2013. Our life as a Christian community in the Anglican tradition did not stop in 1549 or 1662 or even 1928. We must also continue to grow in our faith and Christian practice, both as individuals and as a parish. You have all continued to grow as people since middle school and high school. Has your understanding of your faith similarly continued to grow? More to the point, are we helping each other grow as mature, faithful people? Finally, we must also grow in our understanding of ministry. To what new ministries in this new day is God calling us? Do we have the courage to take off old ways of doing things and put on new responses to the needs of those around us? Are we far-sighted enough to see on the horizon God’s reign breaking in?
I spent the summer of 2006 doing a chaplaincy internship at Children’s Hospital in Columbus. Nine times during the ten weeks I was there I was called to be on call for twenty-four hours. One of those nine nights I waited with three generations of an anxious family while a newborn infant was in surgery. The prognosis had not been good. Indeed, after some time, the surgeon came out and told the family that the surgery had not helped, and that the infant would be taken off artificial life support. At the request of the family, I baptized the infant and waited with them until he died. Then we wept and prayed together. It was a long night. As I was returning to my little room on an upper floor of the hospital, the first streaks of dawn were already appearing. As I prayed one last time for the child and his family, I did so with a heavy heart, but also with the certainty that God would receive him, bless his grieving family, and eventually bring us all to that day when grief and crying are no more.
It’s still dark out. But the first streaks of dawn are already appearing on the horizon. We the followers of Jesus Christ, crucified and risen, continue to pray for his coming, into our own lives today, and into the future of which he has already shown us a glimpse. As we light our Advent candles, as we enjoy their glow, we remember the light that is coming. We rejoice in God’s gifts to us, and, with the Roman Christians, and all of Christ’s faithful disciples, we put on the new clothes of that glorious day.
1. Catherine A. Caimono at faithandleadership.com (11/23/10), quoted in Synthesis December 1, 2013; and following. well.
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.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Stir Up Your Strength and Come
I like Advent calendars. I always have. I like having that pretty Nativity scene to look at while, each day, I open another window. Sometimes I even have to hunt for them – that pesky #13 or #17 can get hidden in a shepherd’s cloak or an angel’s wing! I even like the black and white Advent calendar that looks like a winding path, with each day’s suggestion of a helpful spiritual practice. But – and on this first Sunday in Advent I will risk sounding like the Grinch that stole Christmas – Advent is not a time of preparation for Christmas. In our stores, our print and broadcast media, and many of our homes we have begun the “Christmas season.” Actually the big Christmas season, with its insistence that we honor Jesus by maxing out our credit cards, is virtually unique to this country. Even so, unlike the rest of the mad world around us, in the church at least, we have begun the season of Advent. Advent: that slow, reflective time, when the church asks us to pause, be quiet, and turn towards God. And it took me a long time to realize this: Advent is not a preparation for Christmas. Advent is a season with blessings and graces of its own. Advent marks the beginning of a new church year – in our cycle of Eucharistic lections we are now in Year B. As in the other years in the Revised Common Lectionary cycle, in Advent we begin by retelling the old story, a retelling that will occupy us from now through next Pentecost. And on this very first day, as we begin the retelling, by God’s grace we also see glimpses of the end of our story and the hope that we bear as disciples of Jesus.
At its deepest, Advent is a season of reflection, reflection on at least three levels. On the first level, Advent allows us to give voice to our deepest longings for God’s presence in our world. As we hear the laments of the Psalmist and of Isaiah, we can resonate with the pain and longing in their voices. Decrying the invasion of Israel by the Assyrians, the psalmist cries, “Stir up your strength and come to help us. Restore us, O God with great armies, let us see your face….” Similarly, the prophet of Third Isaiah gives voice to his people’s sense of having been abandoned by God, as they return from exile to a ruined Jerusalem. Here too we hear a cry for God’s presence: “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down,” come down so powerfully that even the mountains would feel your presence.
As we look around at our own world, don’t we feel that same sense of longing for God’s presence? “Occupy Wall Street” has bitterly reminded us of the great economic disparities in this country. The failure of the so-called “Super Committee” to reach compromise on the federal budget reflects our deeply partisan political divide. Even worse, Greece, Italy, Ireland, and other western European countries stagger under unmanageable debt loads and struggle to take the unpalatable measures necessary to deal with their debts. In the Middle East, the “Arab Spring” rid the world of dictators in Tunisia, Egypt, and Libya. What forces will rush in to fill these political vacuums remains to be seen. And when we turn to Africa, we just want to weep over the devastation in Somalia, Darfur, Liberia, and Zimbabwe. As you look around our tattered world, what most disturbs you? For me, as I contemplate our crazy quilt of employer-dependent health insurance, with its vast inequities in access to adequate healthcare, I want to weep. And what pulls at your hearts? What in the world, or even in this community, cries out for attention? Advent is a good time to reflect on what most urges us to shout at God, “Stir up your strength and come among us – and fix things!”
But Advent allows us to do more than bewail the injustices, poverty, and conflict of our world. On a second level, Advent also bids us reflect on our hopes for the future, our expectation of God’s future. The psalmist and Isaiah do more than just cry out. Even before crying out, the psalmist reminds God that God is Israel’s shepherd, “leading Joseph like a flock.” Although Israel’s sins perhaps led to the sense of abandonment by God that Isaiah’s people feel, even so the prophet reminds his hearers of the special relationship between God and God’s people, and of God’s love for God’s people: “We are the clay, and you are our potter, we are all the work of your hand…. We are all your people.” As disciples of Jesus, we too are grounded in that assurance of God’s love for God’s people. But we also believe that, just as God broke into our world once, God will break in again to complete the establishment of God’s reign. How and when this will occur we do not know, nor should we waste time speculating on what Jesus himself suggests we cannot know. What we do need to do is reflect on what our own future hopes are. Rather than surrendering to the frenzy of the “Christmas season,” pause and take a few minutes to reflect on your own hopes for the future. What would you like to see happen during your lifetime? What is your vision of God’s reign? When you hear those words, do you think of the peaceable kingdom in which lions and lambs lie down together? Do you think of a “new heaven and a new earth?” of a “new Jerusalem,” of a time and place where there is no more war and death, sickness and poverty? Do you think of the “river of life,” with its trees whose leaves are for the healing of the nations? How do you picture God’s reign? What do you hope for most deeply? Take the gift of Advent and reflect on that hope and offer it to God.
Finally, on a third level, Advent bids us reflect on how to live in this “middle time,” this time between Christ’s first coming and Christ’s glorious return. In our Gospel reading, Jesus says it all: “Beware, keep alert…. Keep awake.” Rather than letting ourselves be dazzled by holiday lights and decorations or deafened by the endless Muzak Christmas carols that assault us in every store, rather than letting us rush straight to the manger, Advent bids us remain alert and awake to the ways in which Christ may be at work in our lives now. The two are not mutually exclusive: the “hope of glory” does not exempt us from present action. Cardinal Cushing often told about the little girl who loved to sit and listen to her grandmother read the story of creation in Genesis. Noticing that the girl seemed unusually attentive, the grandmother asked her what she thought of the Genesis story. “Oh, I love it,” she said, “You never know what God is going to do next.” In Advent, as we acknowledge that God did not finish or exhaust creation in the past, as we long for the perfection of creation and the coming of God’s reign in the future, we too might agree that we “never know what God is going to do next.” As we seek to hear Christ’s voice in the noisy world around us, we sense that God has not abandoned us, and we believe Jesus’ promise that, “I am with you always, to the end of the age.”
In this season of Advent, we reflect on our longing for God, our hopes for the future, and our confidence in God’s help in the present. As a way of deepening our appreciation for the church’s gift to us of Advent, I’d like to urge you to take seriously the suggestions of the Advent Conspiracy.1 Started in 2006 by five pastors, the Advent Conspiracy asks us to revolutionize our observance of Advent through four actions. The first action is to worship fully. We are asked to put down our burdens and regularly lift up a heartfelt song. The second action is to spend less. Certainly our kids love their gifts. But consider this: Americans spend over $450 billion a year every Christmas. Could you buy one fewer gift this year? Could you give instead a gift of service or a photograph or a heartfelt letter of appreciation? Could you give what you save to someone in need? The third action is to give more. During this Advent season, rather than rushing to the stores, perhaps we could give our friends and family a precious gift of time or attention. Do you need to write an old friend a letter? Do you need to sit and hear someone’s story? Finally, the reflection in which we engage in Advent should help us to love all. Can we follow Jesus by loving as he loved? By spending less at Christmas we can join Him in giving resources to those who need help the most. When the Advent Conspiracy first began four churches offered this simple challenge to their congregations. The result raised more than half a million dollars to aid those in need. One fewer gift. One unbelievable gift in the name of Christ.
“Stir up your strength and come to help us.” O God, when you come, may you find us alert, awake, and ready to follow where you lead.
1. For example, see http://ac.wcrossing.org/default.aspx?page=3684
At its deepest, Advent is a season of reflection, reflection on at least three levels. On the first level, Advent allows us to give voice to our deepest longings for God’s presence in our world. As we hear the laments of the Psalmist and of Isaiah, we can resonate with the pain and longing in their voices. Decrying the invasion of Israel by the Assyrians, the psalmist cries, “Stir up your strength and come to help us. Restore us, O God with great armies, let us see your face….” Similarly, the prophet of Third Isaiah gives voice to his people’s sense of having been abandoned by God, as they return from exile to a ruined Jerusalem. Here too we hear a cry for God’s presence: “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down,” come down so powerfully that even the mountains would feel your presence.
As we look around at our own world, don’t we feel that same sense of longing for God’s presence? “Occupy Wall Street” has bitterly reminded us of the great economic disparities in this country. The failure of the so-called “Super Committee” to reach compromise on the federal budget reflects our deeply partisan political divide. Even worse, Greece, Italy, Ireland, and other western European countries stagger under unmanageable debt loads and struggle to take the unpalatable measures necessary to deal with their debts. In the Middle East, the “Arab Spring” rid the world of dictators in Tunisia, Egypt, and Libya. What forces will rush in to fill these political vacuums remains to be seen. And when we turn to Africa, we just want to weep over the devastation in Somalia, Darfur, Liberia, and Zimbabwe. As you look around our tattered world, what most disturbs you? For me, as I contemplate our crazy quilt of employer-dependent health insurance, with its vast inequities in access to adequate healthcare, I want to weep. And what pulls at your hearts? What in the world, or even in this community, cries out for attention? Advent is a good time to reflect on what most urges us to shout at God, “Stir up your strength and come among us – and fix things!”
But Advent allows us to do more than bewail the injustices, poverty, and conflict of our world. On a second level, Advent also bids us reflect on our hopes for the future, our expectation of God’s future. The psalmist and Isaiah do more than just cry out. Even before crying out, the psalmist reminds God that God is Israel’s shepherd, “leading Joseph like a flock.” Although Israel’s sins perhaps led to the sense of abandonment by God that Isaiah’s people feel, even so the prophet reminds his hearers of the special relationship between God and God’s people, and of God’s love for God’s people: “We are the clay, and you are our potter, we are all the work of your hand…. We are all your people.” As disciples of Jesus, we too are grounded in that assurance of God’s love for God’s people. But we also believe that, just as God broke into our world once, God will break in again to complete the establishment of God’s reign. How and when this will occur we do not know, nor should we waste time speculating on what Jesus himself suggests we cannot know. What we do need to do is reflect on what our own future hopes are. Rather than surrendering to the frenzy of the “Christmas season,” pause and take a few minutes to reflect on your own hopes for the future. What would you like to see happen during your lifetime? What is your vision of God’s reign? When you hear those words, do you think of the peaceable kingdom in which lions and lambs lie down together? Do you think of a “new heaven and a new earth?” of a “new Jerusalem,” of a time and place where there is no more war and death, sickness and poverty? Do you think of the “river of life,” with its trees whose leaves are for the healing of the nations? How do you picture God’s reign? What do you hope for most deeply? Take the gift of Advent and reflect on that hope and offer it to God.
Finally, on a third level, Advent bids us reflect on how to live in this “middle time,” this time between Christ’s first coming and Christ’s glorious return. In our Gospel reading, Jesus says it all: “Beware, keep alert…. Keep awake.” Rather than letting ourselves be dazzled by holiday lights and decorations or deafened by the endless Muzak Christmas carols that assault us in every store, rather than letting us rush straight to the manger, Advent bids us remain alert and awake to the ways in which Christ may be at work in our lives now. The two are not mutually exclusive: the “hope of glory” does not exempt us from present action. Cardinal Cushing often told about the little girl who loved to sit and listen to her grandmother read the story of creation in Genesis. Noticing that the girl seemed unusually attentive, the grandmother asked her what she thought of the Genesis story. “Oh, I love it,” she said, “You never know what God is going to do next.” In Advent, as we acknowledge that God did not finish or exhaust creation in the past, as we long for the perfection of creation and the coming of God’s reign in the future, we too might agree that we “never know what God is going to do next.” As we seek to hear Christ’s voice in the noisy world around us, we sense that God has not abandoned us, and we believe Jesus’ promise that, “I am with you always, to the end of the age.”
In this season of Advent, we reflect on our longing for God, our hopes for the future, and our confidence in God’s help in the present. As a way of deepening our appreciation for the church’s gift to us of Advent, I’d like to urge you to take seriously the suggestions of the Advent Conspiracy.1 Started in 2006 by five pastors, the Advent Conspiracy asks us to revolutionize our observance of Advent through four actions. The first action is to worship fully. We are asked to put down our burdens and regularly lift up a heartfelt song. The second action is to spend less. Certainly our kids love their gifts. But consider this: Americans spend over $450 billion a year every Christmas. Could you buy one fewer gift this year? Could you give instead a gift of service or a photograph or a heartfelt letter of appreciation? Could you give what you save to someone in need? The third action is to give more. During this Advent season, rather than rushing to the stores, perhaps we could give our friends and family a precious gift of time or attention. Do you need to write an old friend a letter? Do you need to sit and hear someone’s story? Finally, the reflection in which we engage in Advent should help us to love all. Can we follow Jesus by loving as he loved? By spending less at Christmas we can join Him in giving resources to those who need help the most. When the Advent Conspiracy first began four churches offered this simple challenge to their congregations. The result raised more than half a million dollars to aid those in need. One fewer gift. One unbelievable gift in the name of Christ.
“Stir up your strength and come to help us.” O God, when you come, may you find us alert, awake, and ready to follow where you lead.
1. For example, see http://ac.wcrossing.org/default.aspx?page=3684
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Now in the Time of this Mortal Life
“But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” Do you know how much time you have left? No one does. Even so, all our advisors tell us, “Be ready, prepare, plan.” My financial advisor tells me that age 92 is the standard planning horizon. I recently saw an Allstate Insurance ad suggesting that now we’re even thinking out to age 100. So we take out life insurance. When we cross over into the second half-century, perhaps we buy long-term care insurance. We may have individual retirement annuities or tax-sheltered annuities. We contribute to, or perhaps draw from, the State Teachers Retirement System, the Ohio Public Employees Retirement System, the Church Pension Fund, or company retirement plans. We draw up wills, lay out advanced directives, buy a cemetery plot or columbarium space, and convey our end of life wishes to our loved ones. It’s absolutely prudent and right to make all these arrangements. Should we make other plans too? Perhaps to gather the children and grandchildren and take that long-awaited trip? Perhaps to sell the big house and move into a smaller one, move closer to the children, or just get everything done by Christmas day! All these plans are also right and appropriate. And yet. And yet, despite all our preparation, advice, and plans, the truth is that we have no idea what the future holds for us, we have no idea when our life may suddenly change, and we have no idea how much time we have left.
Today’s Scripture lessons remind us that God invites us to make different kinds of preparations than those our financial advisors, attorneys, real estate agents, travel agents, or women’s magazines counsel. We don’t know how much time we personally have left, but as we begin another church year God invites us to prepare for God’s future. In contrast to the rest of our society, now in the midst of the mad rush to December 25th, we are invited to stop, to take a breath, and to look with hope towards another future.
We get a glimpse of God’s future, a promise of the consummation of God’s rule at the end of the age, in the stirring reading from Isaiah. In God’s future, the prophet assures us, all people and nations will be united, and all will live according to God’s law. In words that ring down the centuries, the prophet also reassures us that God’s future is a future of peace: “they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.” When soldiers are still dying in Afghanistan, when civilians are dying in the busses and markets of Pakistan, Israel, and Palestine, when civil war still plagues Sudan, when people are murdered on college campuses, don’t you cry out to God to bring that peaceable reign into being right now? And what is the prophet’s reply: “O house of Jacob, come let us walk in the light of the Lord.” In whatever time we have left, we too are invited to pursue peace, even as we continue to hope that God’s peaceable kingdom will come soon.
And hope we must. For Jesus sternly warns us in today’s Gospel reading that we do not know when God will fully consummate God’s plan. During this church year, our Gospel lessons will come mostly from the Gospel according to Matthew, a gospel written especially to convey a sense of hope to a struggling Christian community. In today’s passage Jesus is near Jerusalem, near the end of his own earthly ministry. Having just warned his disciples about the destruction of the temple, he now cautions them, “But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” Throughout the centuries, and still even today, people have claimed to know when the “end of the world” will occur. Think of the many cartoons you have seen of the bearded figure, perhaps wearing a sandwich board, exhorting people to repent because the world is about to end. Think of the Jim Joneses and David Koreshes of our own era who have led so many astray: Think of those who preach the “Rapture.”
We certainly don’t know when Christ will come again, nor when God will bring in God’s future. Nor do we know when our own lives will change – in an instant – despite all our planning. Aren’t we all a heartbeat away from disaster? September 11th, the 2004 tsunami, Hurricane Katrina, the recent fires in California. And then there are the tragedies in our own lives. In February, 1995, my nephew Matthew had just turned 18. As he was making plans for his first year at Penn State, he was struck by a deadly leukemia and died that July. A few years back in Athens a 16-year old got behind the wheel after having had too much to drink at an unsupervised party. She missed a turn on a country road and killed her two 14 year old passengers. All of you could tell similar stories. Our lives, our current comfortable lives, truly hang by a thread.
We know that our lives are uncertain, and that we cannot know what the future holds. But as Christians, we do not despair. We don’t know when God will act, or when our lives may change, but we continue to live in hope, gratitude, and expectation. We live in hope, because God has already entered into our world once. We live in hope, because we know that we have been redeemed in Jesus’ death. We live in hope, because we have been given a foretaste of the life to come in the resurrection, a foretaste of what God has in mind not only for us personally, but eventually for the entire world. Because of this hope, we live differently from those who live without it. Because of this hope, we are grateful for Christ’s first coming, and we wait patiently for Christ’s second coming. In this middle time, as we wait for God’s future to come fully, we remain awake and alert to what God is calling us to do now, “now in the time of this mortal life.”
How do we do that? Let me suggest a few ways. First, we can pray about the mission of this parish. We can ask God to show us what God is inviting this parish to do as a parish. In what new ministries might God be inviting this parish to participate? Are there ways in which the resources of this parish can be used to bring God’s future nearer? Are there ministries for which you might take responsibility, or in which you should be participating?
Second, we remain alert to God’s presence in the world through joining the weekly celebration of Christ’s resurrection. On Sundays, when we join with the rest of the Christian community to hear God’s word and partake of Christ’s Body and Blood, we are nourished and even transformed by Christ. And especially in this season of Advent, we can find ways to listen for, and attend to, God’s daily invitation to us to deepen our spiritual lives and become more attentive to God’s presence in our own lives. For some of you, the discipline of lectio divina, in which we meditatively read Scripture, might be a useful discipline. For others of you, daily prayer at night, in which you review the day and give it to God, might be a way a remaining more alert to God’s presence in your life.
Some of you know of Episcopal priest and spiritual writer Barbara Crafton. She’s a frequent visitor at parishes and retreat centers. She also writes e-mail reflections on the spiritual life and the weekly lections. In one e-mo, as she calls them, she described how people in her home parish gather to read daily Morning and Evening Prayer. Beginning in Advent, she tells us,
"We will husband our store of quietness, care for it lovingly, knowing that much conspires against it outside the walls of the little church. Advent will be a time of such husbanding for many people, a time when attention is paid to what the spirit needs to greet the little Prince of Peace, soon to come among us once again. This doesn't just happen to us. We have to show up for it. If we want peace, we have to go where it can be found. Where is that for you? In prayer with others? In prayer by yourself?... Now is a good time to consider this, as the old year breathes its last and a fresh new one begins."1
Advent is not a passive season. God invites us to be alert and intentionally prepare for God’s coming. God invites us to prepare for the celebration of God’s birth in Jesus, to prepare for God’s coming at the end of the age, and to prepare for God’s coming to us in the busyness of our days. Are you preparing for God’s coming? We may not know when God will come. We may not know how much time we have left. But we are invited to stay alert, awake, and ready for God’s appearing in our lives. And so we pray,
"Lord, we watch, we wait,
we look, we long for you.
Dispel the clouds and darkness
and awaken us to your glory,
that we may walk in your light,
through Jesus Christ our Lord."2 Amen
1. Barbara Crafton, “The Almost Daily eMo,” November 26,2007.
2. David Adam, Clouds and Glory, Morehouse, Harrisburg, PA, 2001, p. 5.
Today’s Scripture lessons remind us that God invites us to make different kinds of preparations than those our financial advisors, attorneys, real estate agents, travel agents, or women’s magazines counsel. We don’t know how much time we personally have left, but as we begin another church year God invites us to prepare for God’s future. In contrast to the rest of our society, now in the midst of the mad rush to December 25th, we are invited to stop, to take a breath, and to look with hope towards another future.
We get a glimpse of God’s future, a promise of the consummation of God’s rule at the end of the age, in the stirring reading from Isaiah. In God’s future, the prophet assures us, all people and nations will be united, and all will live according to God’s law. In words that ring down the centuries, the prophet also reassures us that God’s future is a future of peace: “they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.” When soldiers are still dying in Afghanistan, when civilians are dying in the busses and markets of Pakistan, Israel, and Palestine, when civil war still plagues Sudan, when people are murdered on college campuses, don’t you cry out to God to bring that peaceable reign into being right now? And what is the prophet’s reply: “O house of Jacob, come let us walk in the light of the Lord.” In whatever time we have left, we too are invited to pursue peace, even as we continue to hope that God’s peaceable kingdom will come soon.
And hope we must. For Jesus sternly warns us in today’s Gospel reading that we do not know when God will fully consummate God’s plan. During this church year, our Gospel lessons will come mostly from the Gospel according to Matthew, a gospel written especially to convey a sense of hope to a struggling Christian community. In today’s passage Jesus is near Jerusalem, near the end of his own earthly ministry. Having just warned his disciples about the destruction of the temple, he now cautions them, “But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” Throughout the centuries, and still even today, people have claimed to know when the “end of the world” will occur. Think of the many cartoons you have seen of the bearded figure, perhaps wearing a sandwich board, exhorting people to repent because the world is about to end. Think of the Jim Joneses and David Koreshes of our own era who have led so many astray: Think of those who preach the “Rapture.”
We certainly don’t know when Christ will come again, nor when God will bring in God’s future. Nor do we know when our own lives will change – in an instant – despite all our planning. Aren’t we all a heartbeat away from disaster? September 11th, the 2004 tsunami, Hurricane Katrina, the recent fires in California. And then there are the tragedies in our own lives. In February, 1995, my nephew Matthew had just turned 18. As he was making plans for his first year at Penn State, he was struck by a deadly leukemia and died that July. A few years back in Athens a 16-year old got behind the wheel after having had too much to drink at an unsupervised party. She missed a turn on a country road and killed her two 14 year old passengers. All of you could tell similar stories. Our lives, our current comfortable lives, truly hang by a thread.
We know that our lives are uncertain, and that we cannot know what the future holds. But as Christians, we do not despair. We don’t know when God will act, or when our lives may change, but we continue to live in hope, gratitude, and expectation. We live in hope, because God has already entered into our world once. We live in hope, because we know that we have been redeemed in Jesus’ death. We live in hope, because we have been given a foretaste of the life to come in the resurrection, a foretaste of what God has in mind not only for us personally, but eventually for the entire world. Because of this hope, we live differently from those who live without it. Because of this hope, we are grateful for Christ’s first coming, and we wait patiently for Christ’s second coming. In this middle time, as we wait for God’s future to come fully, we remain awake and alert to what God is calling us to do now, “now in the time of this mortal life.”
How do we do that? Let me suggest a few ways. First, we can pray about the mission of this parish. We can ask God to show us what God is inviting this parish to do as a parish. In what new ministries might God be inviting this parish to participate? Are there ways in which the resources of this parish can be used to bring God’s future nearer? Are there ministries for which you might take responsibility, or in which you should be participating?
Second, we remain alert to God’s presence in the world through joining the weekly celebration of Christ’s resurrection. On Sundays, when we join with the rest of the Christian community to hear God’s word and partake of Christ’s Body and Blood, we are nourished and even transformed by Christ. And especially in this season of Advent, we can find ways to listen for, and attend to, God’s daily invitation to us to deepen our spiritual lives and become more attentive to God’s presence in our own lives. For some of you, the discipline of lectio divina, in which we meditatively read Scripture, might be a useful discipline. For others of you, daily prayer at night, in which you review the day and give it to God, might be a way a remaining more alert to God’s presence in your life.
Some of you know of Episcopal priest and spiritual writer Barbara Crafton. She’s a frequent visitor at parishes and retreat centers. She also writes e-mail reflections on the spiritual life and the weekly lections. In one e-mo, as she calls them, she described how people in her home parish gather to read daily Morning and Evening Prayer. Beginning in Advent, she tells us,
"We will husband our store of quietness, care for it lovingly, knowing that much conspires against it outside the walls of the little church. Advent will be a time of such husbanding for many people, a time when attention is paid to what the spirit needs to greet the little Prince of Peace, soon to come among us once again. This doesn't just happen to us. We have to show up for it. If we want peace, we have to go where it can be found. Where is that for you? In prayer with others? In prayer by yourself?... Now is a good time to consider this, as the old year breathes its last and a fresh new one begins."1
Advent is not a passive season. God invites us to be alert and intentionally prepare for God’s coming. God invites us to prepare for the celebration of God’s birth in Jesus, to prepare for God’s coming at the end of the age, and to prepare for God’s coming to us in the busyness of our days. Are you preparing for God’s coming? We may not know when God will come. We may not know how much time we have left. But we are invited to stay alert, awake, and ready for God’s appearing in our lives. And so we pray,
"Lord, we watch, we wait,
we look, we long for you.
Dispel the clouds and darkness
and awaken us to your glory,
that we may walk in your light,
through Jesus Christ our Lord."2 Amen
1. Barbara Crafton, “The Almost Daily eMo,” November 26,2007.
2. David Adam, Clouds and Glory, Morehouse, Harrisburg, PA, 2001, p. 5.
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