Sermon – John 1.6-8, 19-28, A3, YB, December 17, 2017

Tags

Advent, delight, evangelism, Jesus, John, John the Baptist, light, listen, point, Sermon, voice, witness

I have been thinking a lot this week about the faith witnesses in my life.  There have been dozens of them: some who were in my life for a short while, and some who still serve as a witness to me today; some who flipped my world upside down by a single observation; and some whose entire life journey has served as a witness.  One who stands out for me was a mentor I met as I came into adulthood.  She was not particularly flashy or dramatic, but her entire life became a living witness to me.  Her witness started in the context of talking about Jesus.  There were things she said that had never occurred to me, and yet made a great deal of sense.  She slowly awakened in me a passion for justice:  teaching me about our country’s impact on the world’s poor; asking hard questions, such as where my clothes were made and what my clothing said about my concern for the least of these; helping me see how incredibly privileged I was even when I did not feel privileged compared to others.  I watched her risk arrest through political protest.  I saw her offer up the spare room in her house time and again to those in transition and trying to find their way.  She even revealed to me at some point that instead of accepting an engagement ring from her husband, they had agreed a more appropriate sign of their commitment to one another would be exchanging rocking chairs – so that they could grow old together in them.

What was telling about my experience with her witness was I knew she would never have wanted me to say, “I want to be just like her.”  In fact, with all my revelatory interactions with her, I was not in awe of her; I was in awe of her attempt to live a life in line with the gospel – to live a life that reflected the light of Jesus.  Her words, our conversations, her decisions were ways of pointing me back to a living relationship with Christ.  Her witness to me was not unlike John’s witness in our gospel lesson today.  Now, if you were here last week, you may be wondering, “Didn’t we just hear this story about John the Baptist last week?”  The answer is yes; and no.  Last week we read Mark’s account of John the Baptist.  Typical of Mark, the text we heard was short, and jam-packed with action.  John the Baptist is preaching a baptism of repentance, people are flocking to him, he wears weird clothes, and he tells everyone someone more powerful is coming.  But that is pretty much all Mark gives us.

This week, we read the gospel of John’s account of John.  We know right away John’s gospel is different because he does not call John, “John the Baptist.”  In fact, some scholars say John’s version of John the Baptist would be called, “John the Witness,” or “John the Voice.”  John’s gospel tells us that John the Witness is just that:  a living witness to the light of Christ.  John’s gospel slows us down so we can talk about who this John the Witness really is.  Temple leaders come to John asking him all sorts of questions:  who he is, whether he is a prophet, under what authority he is baptizing people.  John’s gospel slows us down because the gospeller wants to be very clear who John the Witness is and who he is not.  In these thirteen verses, John the Witness uses ten negatives to distinguish himself from Jesus; ten “nots,” “neithers,” and “noes.”[i]  You see, the religious leaders come to John the Witness because he is showing himself to be a compelling leader.[ii]  But what the religious leaders have missed is John is not trying to attract people to himself; hence all the “not me” language.  John is simply preparing the way – pointing people toward someone even more compelling.

I do not know about you, but there is some small part of me that has always been a tad annoyed that the majority of Advent is spent talking about John.  Even though I am on board with not singing Christmas carols or hearing the birth narratives until Christmas Eve, I have often secretly wanted more of a preview in the weeks preceding Christmas than we get.  I have wondered why we cannot spend all four weeks on the more dramatic pregnancy stories:  Mary’s annunciation, Joseph’s interaction with the angel, the Elizabeth and Mary encounter, and the Magnificat.  Spending two weeks on the crazy cousin who eats locusts and wild honey feels tangential to what is coming, and hardly gets me in the mood for singing Away in a Manger.

But this year, something shifted for me.  John the Baptist, or the Witness, or the Voice, or whatever we are going to call him became more compelling for me this Advent.  If you remember, John had a miracle beginning too.  His mother had been long barren, and when the news came to his father that his wife would bear a son, his disbelief meant that he was struck with the inability to speak for nine months until the baby came.  Then, while John was still in the womb, he leapt inside Elizabeth’s womb when Elizabeth came near Jesus in Mary’s womb.  He clearly had the gift of discernment from before birth.  But what strikes me most is his clarity in identity and purpose.  Despite his miraculous and impressive beginnings, he always understands his giftedness is not about him.  His giftedness is in pointing people to God.  He is not lured in by fame or followers; he is not caught up in the hype; he is not even tempted to claim the authority of someone like Elijah.  He is single-minded in his purpose and vocation, and longs to help people find their way to God.  His delight is in helping people find their delight in Christ.

That is one of our invitations today:  to recall someone who has helped you find your delight in Jesus.  Maybe you will adopt someone new like John the witness today.  Maybe his story and his single-mindedness about purpose and vocation is an inspiration.  But maybe you are recalling someone else in your life who did that for you.  Maybe the person was a relative, a mentor, a friend, or a historical figure.  Recall how that person pointed you to Jesus time and again; how he or she awakened in you a longing for a similar single-mindedness about Jesus.  Remember his or her words or actions, giving thanks today for their inspiration and witness in your life.  Meditate with the baptizer, witness, or voice in your life as we journey in these last days of Advent.

But do not stop there.  John’s witness today is not just for you, meant to help you center your own life.[iii]  John’s witness today offers you a second invitation:   to be a baptizer, a witness, a voice for others.  For some of you, the invitation to be a witness may sound overwhelming.  How can we possibly inspire others in the powerful ways others have witnessed to us?  The main way we serve as witnesses is to listen.  David Gortner talks about evangelism not as being about preaching from a street corner, but as being about meeting people where they are – in the grocery store line, at the coffee shop, at a community event – and listening to their story.  The first step in witnessing is not about telling someone how to live their life, but listening to their life stories.  The next step is where witnessing happens.  After hearing someone’s life story – whether a friend, an acquaintance, or even a stranger – we prayerfully reflect back where we hear the Holy Spirit in their story.  We name where we hear and see God in their daily journey.  We point to Jesus in the conversation.[iv]

One of my favorite stories of Habitat for Humanity founder Miller Fuller was a story of a retiree who was busy volunteering on a roof.  He was the kind of person who liked to work alone, mostly so that he could monitor and maintain quality control.  But on this particular day, a kid kept bothering the volunteer.  He wanted to help, and the man kept suggesting he find someone else.  The kid kept appearing throughout the day, bringing tools, bringing snacks, or just hanging nearby to talk.  Despite his efforts to shoo away the boy, he kept finding him underfoot.  By the afternoon, the volunteer gave up and allowed the boy to help him – under strictest supervision, of course.  Much to his surprise, the boy was quite good.  By the end of the day, they were laughing and finishing most of the work.  As they were leaving, the volunteer apologized for his brusqueness and asked the boy his name.  “My name is Jesus,” said the boy.

Jesus is all around us, all the time.  But most of us struggle to see him or name him because we either do not have a witness nearby or we have not honed our witnessing skills.  John the witness invites us to reclaim our witness today; to listen for the movement of Jesus in others’ lives and to be the witness who points to Jesus.  We are not the light; we are not the Messiah; we are not the prophet.  But we do come to testify to the light – to point others toward the goodness, the holy, the Jesus in their life, and invite them to the light.  God has given you witnesses to shape your journey.   And God enables you to share the gift of witness with others.  Our job is to simply listen and point.  Amen.

[i] Barbara Brown Taylor, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 71.

[ii] David Lose, “Advent 3 B:  Sacred Leadership,” December 15, 2017, as found at http://www.davidlose.net/2017/12/advent-3-b-sacred-leadership/ on December 15, 2017.

[iii] David L. Bartlett, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 68, 70.

[iv] David Gortner, Transforming Evangelism (New York:  Church Publishing, 2008).

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On Keeping Watch…

Tags

Advent, anxiety, Christ Child, Christian, community, devotional, God, Holy Spirit, insight, inspiration, keep, photo, speak, tension, watch, Word

Photo credit:  https://it.pinterest.com/pin/628252216738231468/

One of the themes we find in Advent is keeping watch.  Throughout the four weeks leading up to the birth of the Christ Child, we are to keep watch, preparing our hearts for the nativity of our Lord.  Traditionally, I have kept watch by using an Advent calendar or a special devotional book.  But this year, I am trying something new.  I have joined the Anglican Communion in a participatory Advent devotional called “Advent Word.”  Each day of Advent has an assigned word, and participants are invited to post a picture on social media that captures that word.

When I decided to join the Advent Word community, I was a bit nervous.  I worried what I would do if I could not figure out a picture to take or use that went with the daily word.  I have found my initial anxiety has not disappeared, but has created a sense of anticipatory tension.  Each day, I open up my email, and find a word and picture, with an invitation to prayer.  Then, throughout the day, I am keeping watch – for inspiration, for insight, for the Holy Spirit speaking to me anew through the images of everyday life.  By praying the word throughout the day, I am finding myself much more aware throughout the day, and much more attuned to God speaking to me in fresh ways.

In some ways, the anticipatory tension of participating in Advent Word has helped me accomplish the bigger goal of keeping watch during Advent.  Instead of having Advent slip by in the bustle of the season, each day has a poignancy and sense of meaning.  Instead of wishing away the days until Christmas comes, my Advent has become much more intentional and meaningful.

I wonder how your Advent is going?  Are you finding ways to keep watch?  If the days are slipping away, I invite you to find ways to slow down, and listen for the Holy Spirit who longs to prepare your heart for the Christ Child.  If you have found other ways to keep watch this Advent, I would love to hear about your experience.  If nothing else, I have learned this year that Christian community can be a wonderful partner in helping us keep watch.  If you are looking for such a community, Hickory Neck is full of everyday people who are happy to keep watch with you.

Sermon – Isaiah 40.1-11, Mark 1.1-8, A2, YB, December 10, 2017

Tags

Advent, busyness, change, God, Good News, Isaiah, Jesus, John the Baptist, manger, prepare, prophecy, repent, repentance, Sermon, way

This Advent, I have been sensing in myself a need to prepare for the Christ Child a little differently.  The busyness of life has me longing for a season of quiet reflection, of anti-consumerism, of less…well…busyness.  In some ways, the church has made accommodations for that desire.  The music in Advent is a bit more muted and quietly beautiful.  The offerings of yoga or even the Blue Christmas service make room for quiet meditation and reflection.  Even my Advent devotion this year of taking daily photos based on a provided word has forced me to look around more intentionally at life.  When I heard Isaiah’s words this week, “Prepare the way of the Lord,” my spirit had been hoping Isaiah’s preparation meant slowing down and creating an inner openness to the Holy Spirit.

Although I am sure Jesus would be all too happy to have me slow down a bit, my Advent longings may be a bit too passive for what Isaiah and John the Baptist are trying to accomplish.[i]  Of course, you can see where I may have gone astray.  Isaiah is speaking to a people in exile:  far from their homeland, oppressed by a foreign power, being forced to assume a foreign culture, God finally speaks a word of comfort to God’s people.  “Comfort, O Comfort my people,” says the Lord to Isaiah.  They are soothing words to a downtrodden people.  They are words of affection to an affection-starved nation.  They are healing words to a broken group of followers.  But those words of comfort are not followed by a cozy bed of meditation and contemplation.  Instead, those comforting words are followed by a call to action, “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.”  God is about to do a new thing, but in order to do that new thing, the people of God must prepare the way through repentance.  Now I know we usually reserve repentance talk for Lent, but in this season of preparing for a new thing – of preparing for the Christ Child – the prophet tells the people of God they need repentant hearts.

One of the courses of study for parish priests and counselors is called family systems.  The study of family systems looks at human behavior through the lens of behavior within families, looking at ways families handle conflict, how they engage one another, and how they solve problems.  Patterns we learn in our families are taken into other systems.  One of the main lessons we learn from family systems is that you cannot change the behavior of others; you can only change your own behavior.  But changing your own behavior is not as easy as the change sounds.  Any of us who saw our mother behave like her mother, only to one day see that same behavior in ourselves realizes how hard changing our patterns can be.

When we talk about repentance, that is the kind of deep change we are talking about.  Repentance is not wallowing in guilt, feeling badly about something we said or did (or keep saying or doing).  Repentance is acknowledging our sinfulness and working to change our behavior.  The word “repent,” actually means to turn around; to turn away from sinful behavior and walk another way.  So when John the Baptist recalls Isaiah’s words, saying, “Prepare the way of the Lord,” he’s not saying, unpack your creches, put up the greens, and buy some presents.  Prepare the way of the Lord means making sure your heart is ready for the coming of the Christ Child – a feat you cannot accomplish if your heart is heavy with sin and regret.[ii]

Now do not get me wrong – I have pulled down the boxes of Christmas decorations, hung a wreath, and have purchased some gifts.  Those are honored traditions that bring us great joy, and I believe God wants us to be a people of joy.  But I suspect that if your heart is heavy-laden with the sins of life, or if you are so busy with the busyness of life that you have disconnected from God, your joy this year at the arrival of the Holy Child will not be as deep as your joy could be.

I have met many a church member who loathes the season of Lent for the focus on repentance.  I am sure they would be cringing today by the ways I am squashing Advent too.  But here is the reason why we have to talk about repentance today.  The gospel lesson we read from Mark contains the very first eight verses of Mark.  Mark introduces his gospel with these words, “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”  The reason John the Baptist is so excited, and is quoting Isaiah in our text today is that he knows what is coming is good news.  And so, when John quotes Isaiah with the words, “Prepare the way of the Lord,” he really means two things.  First, he means do the active work of preparing your heart for the Lord.  Not just the awesome, touchy-feely stuff of centering yourself or finding a quiet space, but the hard stuff of repentance.  And second, John means do the work of sharing the good news.  The work of Advent and the joy of Christmas is not just for us.  When your heart is bursting on Christmas Eve with joy because you did the tough work or repenting and returning to the Lord, don’t you want someone with which to share your joy?   One of the ways we prepare the way of the Lord is to share the good news of God in Christ with others.[iii]

Now I know what you are going to say, “Here she goes again, talking about inviting people to church.”  Or maybe you are thinking, “Yeah, but people who come on Christmas Eve usually only come once a year, so why bother?”  The good news about spreading the good news is that you are likely going to spread that good news in spite of yourself.  You see, when we do the work of repentance, of changing our hearts, minds, and hands to doing the work of God, a renewed spirit is kindled in us, and a deep joy burns in us.  The work of repentance creates in us a clean heart, and renews a right spirit within us.  And when we feel the love of God overwhelming us, we cannot help but let slip to our neighbor, “I know you have a church home, but I just want to share how awesome my experience at church has been lately.  If you ever want to come with me, I would be happy to bring you.”  Or when your friend is expressing his deep sadness and sense of loneliness, you find yourself saying, “I have been there.  But I have to tell you, every time I leave church, something about my encounter with God and community makes me feel less alone.”  Or when a stranger is ranting about how awful the church and Christians have been lately (which, we know some awful things are happening in the name of Christ lately), you find yourself saying, “I totally agree.  That is why I love my church so much – because they show me another way of witnessing to Christ.  I would love to show you sometime!”

I realize you may have been hoping for a word of comfort and permission to quietly prepare your heart for the Christ Child today.  Lord knows I have been longing for that this week too.  But turning my busyness into purposeful preparation:  for repentance and sharing the good news sounds much more fulfilling and life-giving.  The coming of the Christ Child, the fulfillment of the prophecy of Isaiah, is a life-altering event.  Today, the church prepares us for not arriving at the manger with check-lists done, gifts in hand, and arms full of stuff.  Instead, the church prepares us for arrive at the manger with open arms, free of the burdens that are weighing our spirits down, surrounded by others who have similarly prepared, and those who heard a good word from you, and wanted to drop their baggage at the manger too.  Come, prepare the way of the Lord.  Amen.

[i] Karoline Lewis, “Wilderness Preaching,” December 3, 2017, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=5018 on December 6, 2017.

[ii] Martin B. Copenhaver, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 47.

[iii] Richard F. Ward, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 31.

On Repentance, Joy, and Journey…

Tags

Advent, Christ Child, Jesus, journey, joy, love, prepare, repent, repentance, sinfulness

Photo by Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly

One of the long-standing debates among clergy and scholars is whether or not Advent is a penitential season or not – a mini-Lent, if you will.[i]  There are arguments both ways, some saying absolutely yes; to prepare our hearts for the birth of Christ, our job is certainly to repent of our sinfulness.  Others who disagree with Advent being a season of penitence argue the season is more about joyful expectation and anticipation, and is distinct from the penitential season of Lent.  Meanwhile others argue that the both Lent and Advent are for both penitence and joy.

I am not sure I have made up my mind about these debates.  What I can tell you is that in the decluttering of my heart in preparation for the Christ Child, and in listening to the lesson appointed each Sunday, I know I am, and the world around me is, in need of some repentance.  As case after case pours in of sexual harassment and abuse, I am aware of how far we have drifted from the ways in which Christ longs for us to treat one another.  From the ways that we eviscerate one another online, or talk behind our neighbor’s backs, I know that we have lost a groundedness in Christ Jesus’ message of love.  From the ways in which we have stormed away from the communion table, I feel how deeply broken we are as a world.  I play a part in not correcting those sins, and sometimes actively participating in them.

And so, this Advent, my preparation feels a bit like a journey.  The first step is going to involve a bit of grief – for every woman or man who felt shamed or silenced by a society who would not affirm that they are created in the image of God, and should never suffer bodily violation; for the loss of an ability to see shades of gray instead of seeing black and white; for the hateful things we say and do to one another.  The second step is going to be some real repentance – not just naming the grief, but claiming my role in the degradation of others.  And then, hopefully, by the time we get to Christmas Eve, I expect to arrive at the manger, not with an armful of gifts, but the open arms of humility, repentance, and renewal.  I may not have words, but I long for the evening when I can bow in front of the Christ Child, rejoicing in the gift of love, forgiveness, and transformation that Jesus is for all of us.  Whether that means this Advent is a season of penitence or not, I am not sure.  All I know is this year, I am grateful for the journey.

[i] https://livingchurch.org/covenant/2016/11/29/is-advent-a-penitential-season/

On Making Room in the Inn…

Tags

Advent, Christ, Christmas, family, heart, holidays, Jesus, manger, nativity, prepare, pressure, relief, simplify

Photo credit:  https://nourishingminimalism.com/2017/11/simplify-christmas-goodbye-elf.html

As my family approaches the holidays this year, life is a bit different.  We decided months ago that we would visit our California family over Christmas break.  Now that we are traveling with four, we realized the travel expenses would set us back quite a bit.  Having noticed the last couple of years how much we are spending on gifts for the kids, we decided that the trip will function as our Christmas.  My in-laws are also gifting the family a couple of days at Disneyland, which we agreed would function as their Christmas gift.  So instead of “stuff” we are concentrating on “adventure” or “experiences.”

It took some explaining and questions, but we seem to have everyone on board with the new concept.  Personally, I did not mind giving up gifts.  But what took me by surprise was how much I would miss having a live Christmas tree.   I love everything about decorating a live tree:  the smell, stringing the lights, recalling the memories of each ornament, all while sipping eggnog and listening to Christmas songs play in the background.  But the danger of the fire hazard while we are away means the tree-related boxes will stay sealed this year.

For the last week or so, I was grieving the change in our Christmas traditions.  But this week, as Advent rapidly approaches, I realized that my grief is fading, and instead, a sense of relief has overcome me.  You see, instead of running around getting gifts, I am able to imagine the calm of Advent that I always preach about, but rarely get to experience.  Instead of working frantically to get a tree and find a meeting-free night to decorate the tree, I can pull out our Advent wreath, Advent devotional, and our creches from around the world to decorate the house.  I have often heard the encouragement to simplify for Advent, but have rarely figured out how to accomplish the goal.  This year, the unintended consequences of decisions have done it for me.  And I could not be more grateful.

Now I am not suggesting you chuck all your holiday traditions about the window.  But I wonder what things or thing you might let go of this year in order to relieve some of the pressures we find in Advent.  Too often we take the “prepare” message of Advent like Martha does with Jesus.  We run around buying, baking, partying, planning, decorating, and distracting.  Maybe this Advent we can be a little more like Martha’s sister Mary, finding ways to sit at the feet of Jesus – or perhaps at the empty manger – preparing our hearts for his nativity.  I suspect that the extra room you create in your heart might be just the room Jesus and his family need when they can find no room in the inn.

 

 

On Traditions and Routine…

Tags

Advent, church, comfort, identity, liturgy, power, routine, tradition

Photo credit:  https://scpeanutgallery.com/2013/12/01/1st-sunday-in-advent-isaiah-21-5-psalm-122-romans-1311-14-matthew-2436-44-suddenly-out-of-zion/

As I began personal preparations for Advent this year, I began to wonder if a change was in order.  The last few years, our family has used the same Advent calendar.  It has wonderful daily devotions, and fun, pop-out depictions to coordinate with each day.  It has suggested ways to pray as a family and how to make Advent through Epiphany Day meaningful.  But I wondered if my family was boring of the same old tradition, so I started to think about alternatives.  Right as I prepared to place my order, I mentioned something about the order to my husband.  My seven-year old immediately chimed in, “We’re getting the same calendar, right?!?  I want to do the devotions.”  Shocked by her commitment, I went back to the old order, and ordered a new calendar right away.

Just this past weekend we purchased our annual live tree.  Though I knew I had a day or two to let the tree settle, my husband was anxious for me to get the lights and ornaments on and to unpack our Christmas decorations.  I, on the other hand, was not as enthusiastic about the work it would entail.  As soon as my daughter heard that I would be unpacking ornaments, she begged to help, even though it was a school night.  So, we turned on the Christmas music and got to work.  Her enthusiasm was contagious.  As she unpacked various ornaments, she would declare, with glee, “I remember this one!!!”  She eagerly reminded me of how we strategically place delicate ornaments up high, out of reach of her younger sister.  She also worked to place all the ornaments that make noise down low so her sister could enjoy them too.  As I watched her revel in reliving Christmases of years past, I was flooded with memories of a similar routine with my own mother.

My interactions with my daughter this year have reminded me of why being a part of a liturgical church is so special.  Though “routine,” or tradition, may sound boring to some, the routine of liturgy is a tremendous source of comfort and belonging to those who participate.  Every Advent we hear of Isaiah, John the Baptist, and Mary the Mother of God.  Every Christmas we retell the Lukan nativity narrative.  Year after year, the pattern of the liturgical calendar, the repeating of holy scripture, and the weekly practice of Eucharist are our routine – our tradition.  Though we always want to keep church fresh and relevant, the routine is what grounds us.  The routine brings us comfort.  The routine gives us a sense of identity.

I am especially grateful for that grounding in identity this year.  In a year of political upheaval, of community and country divisions, and of raised awareness to the phobias and “isms” of our time, I am grateful for a liturgical pattern that reminds me of who I am, what is important, and what brings us peace.  Though I am always excited to try new experiments, I am reminded this Advent of the power of tradition – and it is anything but routine!

Sermon – Isaiah 40.1-11, A2, YA, Advent Lessons and Carols, December 4, 2016

Tags

Advent, Christ Child, Christmas, Episcopal Church, hope, Isaiah, Jesse, Jesus, joy, Lessons and Carols, rooting, season, Sermon, song, story

The season of Advent and I have not always been friends.  In fact, the first Advent I experienced in the Episcopal Church almost ended my relationship with the Episcopal Church.  You see, I grew up in a Christian tradition that treated Advent as the beginning of the Christmas season.  Starting on Advent One, we were singing Christmas carols, making our way through all the old favorites.  The tradition felt perfect – instead of focusing on a secularized Christmas, the Christmas hymns during Advent reminded us all of the “reason for the season.”  Besides, there are so many familiar Christmas hymns, that there would be no way to enjoy them all during the short two weeks of Christmastide.  Since our tradition also did not have services on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, you had to squeeze in all the “Joy to the Worlds,” “Oh Holy Nights,” and “Away in the Mangers,” that you could before the holiday was over.  In that tradition, Advent felt like a family gathering around a fire, singing songs of familiarity and comfort.

Of course, the Episcopal Church we landed in did nothing of the sort.  The songs I heard during that first Advent were dreadful.  They were slow and full of melancholy.  They sounded as though whomever wrote them was hunkered down, alone, in a room without a fireplace.  They had a hollow, haunted feeling to them, and the tunes were difficult to follow.  I remember that first Advent feeling like all the joy had been taken out of Christmas, and all that was left was a sad sense of unfamiliarity.

So, if that were my first experience of Advent in the Episcopal Church, why in the world would I agree to having not just Lessons and Carols today – but Advent Lessons and Carols?  I not only agreed to, but begged for, Advent Lessons and Carols because this service attempts to capture what the whole season of Advent does in the Episcopal tradition.  Advent is not meant to be four weeks of celebrating the birth of the Christ Child.  Advent is meant to be four weeks of helping us understand the enormity of what happens on the fateful night of Christ’s birth.  And so, like the people of faith always have, we go back and tell the story.  We tell our story.  We set the scene of Jesus’ birth by using our story to understand the context of the monumental event of the nativity.

First, we go all the way back to the garden of Eden.  Then, we remember the words of the prophets who told of a messiah, an anointed one from the house of David – and yet, better than David.  We hear words of comfort, words of preparation, and words of promise.  We hear of a young, inexperienced woman and the announcement that she gets of a coming child.  And we even hear from Jesus himself, who tells us of the call for repentance in the face of fulfilled promise.  All of that – from Eden, to failed kings and judges, to wearied exiled people, to scared, young women, to the message of repentance all are needed to remember why that infant in a humble manger is so important.  His story is bigger.   His story starts long before his own story starts.  His story is our story.

I am especially grateful for the rooting that Advent provides this year because I have been feeling pretty rootless lately.  With all the noise of world news lately, we can easily become lost.  We can get caught up in the heat of politics, pandering, and promises and forget to whom we belong.  We can see destruction all around us and wonder whether hope is lost.  Into the face of that loss, destruction, and longing, Isaiah says today, “A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.”  At the time of Isaiah’s oracle, the people of God had been in a time of high tensions.  “…The northern kingdom of Israel and the Aramaeans of Damascus tried to force Judah and King Ahaz to join their rebellion against Assyria.  On Isaiah’s advice, Ahaz refused; but then, instead of joining the rebel alliance, he called Assyria to intervene.”[i]  Of course, this led to disaster and eventually the end of the northern kingdom.  You can imagine Isaiah’s frustration with a king who does not trust God, and who only half-way follows God’s instructions.  And with the massive destruction of the northern kingdom, Isaiah could have been tempted to lose hope.  But the text we get today is not a text of damnation or even chastising.  Instead, Isaiah is able to hold on to hope.  In the midst of what feels like total destruction, Isaiah proclaims, “A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.”

Those of you who read my blog know I am not all that great with plants.  Most plants survive only a few weeks, maybe months if I am lucky.  The running joke is that I pretty much have a brown thumb instead of a green thumb.  The one exception is a little bonsai plant that my husband and I were given as a wedding present.  Somehow, miracle of all miracles, I have managed to keep that plant alive for the fifteen years since our wedding.  I had taken to calling it our “love plant,” because I surmised that only our love was keeping the plant going.  But when we moved to Williamsburg, having the brown thumb that I do, I assumed that the plant would be just fine sitting in my car for a few days.  When we finally moved into our house, I realized something was wrong.  The heat of the day must have scorched the plant, because every leaf was turning brown.  Within a week of moving in, all the leaves had fallen and even those 15-year old branches were looking withered beyond repair.  I was pretty sure the plant was dead, but I couldn’t bear to toss our love plant.  For some odd reason, I kept watering the plant, hoping something would happen.  But even plant-lovers who saw my plant looked at me with pitying eyes when I showed them the plant.  Two months later, I looked over at our sad, presumably dead plant, and at the base of that bonsai plant were two little new shoots of growth.  I couldn’t believe it!  After a period of mourning, new life was emerging.  Hope emerged that our withered love plant might just have a little more life left.

Isaiah’s promise is similarly powerful.  “Out of something that appears finished, lifeless, left behind, comes the sign of new life – a green sprig.”[ii]  As Christians, we certainly understand the green sprig from the stump of Jesse to be Jesus Christ.  He is the only one who can redeem and bring new life.  He is the one who brings us hope.   In a few weeks, we will not just be celebrating the birth of a cute baby.  We will be celebrating the shoot from the stump of Jesse – a branch that will bring new life out of destruction, pain, and suffering.  In our world of destruction, pain, and suffering, I cannot imagine a better message of hope.

Once I understood the significance of Advent in the greater faith narrative, my years-long loathing of Episcopal Advent began to fade.  The more reserved songs of Advent slowly began to feel less like dirges and more like raw, vulnerable songs of hope.  Suddenly the soprano voices singing the high notes of “Jesus Christ, the Apple Tree,” the phrase, “Most highly favored lady,” and the comforting alleluias of “Let all Mortal Flesh Keep Silence,” became welcome, comforting friends, and not the nemeses I once imagined.  Finally, after years of dread, instead, I found Advent in the Episcopal Church to be a gift – a time set apart to gather around with family and tell the old stories – our story, and prepare our hearts for the new shoot from the root of Jesse.

The telling of our story is not just important for understanding who the Christ Child is.  The telling of our story is also important for understanding who we are in relation to the Christ Child and the world.  When we understand ourselves to be redeemed by the shoot of the stump of Jesse, the way we operate in the world changes.  We look at a world of destruction, pain, and suffering through the lens of hope.  And when we look through the lens of hope, we are not a defeated people, but a people who see promise, even when others cannot see that same promise.  We know what the shoot from the stump of Jesse has done, is doing, and will do.  And that means our whole way of being changes.  Our story changes.  Our song changes.  And we change too.  Thanks be to God!

[i] Bruce C. Birch, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 27.

[ii] Stacey Simpson Duke, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 28.

On Turning Down the Noise…

Tags

Advent, breath, breathe, Christ Child, church, God, loud, noise, quiet

Photo Credit:  www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/lucy-gaskin/playing-the-game-of-shh_b_7894332.html

I live in a noisy house.  We have tried teaching our children about volume control (we use a scale to help our oldest; e.g. “You’re at a 10.  I need you at a 6.”).  We have worked on the concept of taking turns while speaking.  We have tried yoga breathing (which more often sounds like hyperventilating that calming breaths).  And we use a lot of “time out.”  As a parent, most of the time I am used to the volume of our house.  But occasionally I spend time with families who have much more quiet homes, and the experience reminds me of how loud my house really is.

We are currently living in a culture of loud.  Every day I receive emails from some online store who promises that today’s sale is even better than yesterday’s.  When I try to work in public places on my laptop, either music or TVs are blaring loudly.  Our current political discourse feels more like a shouting match than a quiet discussion of issues.  And that does not even include the noise of Christmas preparation.  Our lives are very loud when we stop to listen.

I think that is why I love Advent so much.  It is the one church season that is almost always the total opposite of our secular season.  In a time when the secular world is getting louder and louder, the church invites us to be more and more quiet.  Our liturgies get simplified.  Our educational offerings focus more on quiet reflection than dynamic presentations or lively conversations.  Our calendar invites us to slow down.  We do all this not to be contrary, but because our church wants to give us space to ponder and savor the coming miracle of the Christ Child.

This morning I used on online version of Morning Prayer that I don’t usually use.  The nice thing about the website (or app if you use it on your phone), is the lessons are incorporated into the page so you do not have to find them separately.  Also incorporated are some hymns and canticles.  Today, the hymn was “Breathe on me Breath of God.”  I remember that old hymn from my childhood and it was just what I needed to help me stay engaged in the quiet of Advent.  My prayer for each of you today is not only that you feel God’s breath on you, filling you with life anew, but also that you breathe in God, allowing God to work through you so that God’s light might shine through you with renewed vigor.  Perhaps simply by breathing in God and allowing God to breathe on you, you might find some small way to combat the loudness of life today.

On being good…

Tags

Advent, Barth, behavior, Christ, church, forgiveness, good, Paul, repent, Romans, sin

Driving home from school this week, my daughter and I talked about some challenges she is having with poor behavior in the classroom.  We talked about some strategies to help her work on it.  I encouraged her to just keep trying.  Exasperated, she said to me, “I am trying.  It’s just so hard being good!”

Her words to me were both funny and profound.  I felt sympathy for this little first grader who is trying her best.  But I also felt an odd sense of relief.  I thought to myself, “I’m so glad I am an adult and don’t have to worry about ‘being good’ anymore!”  Then today, we read the lessons for the feast day for Karl Barth.  The epistle was from Paul’s letter to the Romans (7.14-25).  Paul says, “I do not understand my own actions.  For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate…For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.”  It dawned on me that I was being self-righteous with my daughter.  As adults, we do not ever “grow out of” struggling to be good.  Adults struggle with our sinful nature as much as children do.

Karl Barth knew a little about sinfulness.  During the rise of Hitler, Barth argued that the Church’s allegiance to God in Christ gave the Church the moral imperative to challenge the rule and violence of Hitler.  In fact, when Barth refused to swear an oath to Hitler, he lost his professorship.  One of the greatest theological minds of the twentieth century, Barth argued about sin that the Incarnation was the bridge between God’s revelation and human sin.

Photo credit: http://www.sacristies-of-the-world.com/?tag=advent-wreath

Talking about sin during Advent may seem strange to some.  Most of us are more focused on buying gifts, preparing our homes, and going to parties.  But the reason we have to celebrate in the first place is the nativity of our Lord – that bridge between God’s revelation and human sin.  Even in the first weeks of Advent, we hear from John the Baptist telling us to repent of our sins.  The time of Advent is not the Church’s way of delaying the gratification of Christmas.  Advent is an invitation to prepare our hearts and minds for the Christ Child.  Part of that preparation is examining our own sinfulness – to right our relationship with God, with ourselves, and with one another.  Being “good” is not easy.  But Advent is our reminder to keep trying – even when being good is hard.  My suspicion is that our work of repentance will not only warm our hearts with the forgiveness we receive from God, but also help us to be agents of forgiveness.  Lord knows we’ll need a heap of that too when the holidays come!

All in…

Tags

accountable, Advent, Christmas, church, community, God, spiritual disciplines

Photo Credit: http://www.catholic-chaplaincy.org.uk/homily-2014-november-30-advent-1st-sunday/

We often talk about spiritual disciplines in Church.  We encourage regular prayer, daily devotions, or time set aside for Bible study or journaling.  The options are endless really.  The idea is that you create space for regular connection to God.  Otherwise, we can easily get swept up in the busyness of life and only connect to God on Sundays – or worse, neglect our relationship with God altogether.  That temptation is ever heightened during Advent:  a time when many of forget about Advent altogether because we are so focused on Christmas.  And the secular world has no intention of helping us separate the two.  Even the Church struggles as we plan Christmas parties, pageants, greening, and liturgies.  Put simply, it is hard to focus on Advent, even if we want to focus on Advent.

To help combat this tendency, I have taken up two spiritual disciplines – one with my family and one with my Church.  The discipline my family is taking on is the 40-day bag challenge.  We are taking turns with the bags, figuring out who will be purging what areas.  But the idea is that by clearing out space in our home we might also clear out space for one another and for God.

The other discipline is reading the Advent and Christmastide devotional book, Night Visions, by Jan L. Richardson.  Richardson combines reflections, art, and poetry each day to take us out of ourselves and to help us reconnect with the quiet, intentional invitation of Advent.  Our parish is reading this book together as part of our “Reading with the Rector” program.  My hope is that by regular, short readings, I will get the boost I need to re-center each day in hope, waiting, and quiet expectation.

I mention these two disciplines not because I am proud or because I think my disciplines are particularly praiseworthy this Advent.  I mention these two disciplines because I want your help.  I want your help to keep me accountable to the life I want to have as priest, a wife, a mother, and member of my community, especially in a season when I could easily be tempted to do otherwise.  That’s the funny thing about spiritual disciplines.  Though they are personal and individual, we experience the most success in our disciplines when we share them within the community of faith.  So feel free to message me here, email me, or post questions on my Facebook wall.  And if you need help with your own disciplines, I’m happy to ask you about yours too.  Maybe together we can prepare our hearts for that most sacred night with the Christ Child.  I’m in.  Are you?