This sermon was offered at Grace Memorial Episcopal Church in Wabasha, MN on December 6, 2015. The texts are from Luke 1:68-79 and Luke 3:1-6.
I started decorating for Advent and winter
this week. I learned a few years ago
that if I want to make sure the Advent calendar and wreath are out for the
Advent season I needed to label the box “Advent.” While the box is labeled, I can still be late
in digging it out of storage. But this
year I got the box out on Advent One ... and opened it on Monday.
Inside I found snowmen and a Santa as well as
kitchen and bathroom towels, along with the Advent wreath, candles and
calendar. Everything found a home
outside the box, and now I had an empty box; an empty box with a purpose.
Each year I decorate the flat surfaces. I love this project! There’s the Santa table and the snowmen table
and the gold trimmed items on the piano.
Nativity scenes can be found all over the living space. But before I can do any of this, I have to put
away the everyday items from those flat surfaces and pack them up into the
empty boxes.
With the empty Advent box I was able to begin
that process, packing up framed photos.
Cleaning them along the way, I looked into the faces, thankful for the
memories of times gone by. It’s funny
how those photos are up the rest of the year but it is at this particular time
they capture my closer attention.
Perhaps it is because it is Advent, a time of remembering the past as I
prepare for the future.
This year I am doing something a little
different. Rather than immediately filling
those empty spaces with decorations, I am leaving them bare, at least for
now.
Bare
… as a sign of anticipation.
Bare ... as a reminder that all of us, at some point, feel empty, hollow and barren.
Bare … as an opportunity for reflection.
Bare ... as encouragement to be open to the holiness of each day.
Bare … as an empty vessel available to accept some sort of change.
Bare ... as a reminder that all of us, at some point, feel empty, hollow and barren.
Bare … as an opportunity for reflection.
Bare ... as encouragement to be open to the holiness of each day.
Bare … as an empty vessel available to accept some sort of change.
Bare
… as a sign of vulnerability.
Bare
… as a way to remove the clutter that impedes my relationship with God.
It can be hard to admit that I am vulnerable,
that I need to make changes, that sometimes I am too cluttered to be fully
present for God. It can be hard to be
open, to see holiness, to reflect in constructive ways and to see the emptiness
in the world. It can be hard to
anticipate the unknown. But it is
Advent. It is time to reflect on life
and to look for God with us, to prepare for the upending of what has been
known, dumping out what distracts or damages or destroys and to be reborn with
Jesus.
At least for the first week of Advent, these
spaces remained empty as a spiritual practice, helping me find ways to separate
from earthly distractions, from advertising pressure, from what can sometimes
become a full and overwhelming four weeks.
Elizabeth and Zechariah are the parents of
John the Baptizer. Elizabeth, like many
Biblical women before her, was barren.
Her womb was empty, always hopeful one day she would experience the
anticipation of bringing forth a new life into the world. As she aged, it seemed less and less likely
that she would ever be a mother. And
yet, God had other plans, as God often does when the world needs to be reminded
that God is ever present, ever faithful and always ready to offer redemption.
Zechariah, a holy man, a priest, finds this
gift from God … this life Zechariah himself had prayed for … unbelievable. He was given a miracle, but could not
comprehend that God had truly heard his prayer and that Elizabeth would bear a
child. According to the Angel, Gabriel,
this child … this miracle … this gift … was to be named John. Even with all these specific messages,
Zechariah was in shock. He continued to
express his disbelief to Gabriel and Gabriel rewarded him by taking his ability
to speak. For nine months, Zechariah
could not talk. For nine months, he
could listen.
When the baby was born, Zechariah’s silence
was broken as he announced the name of the child was to be John, not Zechariah
Junior, not a family name, but John, meaning “God is gracious.” Now, after about nine months of silence, nine
months of listening, Zechariah broke out into song. From his mouth sprang forth the words that
the angel, Gabriel had placed in his heart, words that would foretell who John
would become for the world. Words we
said in today’s Canticle: “And you, child, will be called the prophet of the
Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give
knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins.” (Luke
1:76-77).
http://www.antiochian.org/sites/default/files/assets/writer/BirthofHolyProphetandForerunne.Elizabeth_EFCA/clip_image001.jpg
We fast forward to John as an adult when we
read the Gospel. After setting the stage
for the story by listing the civic and religious leaders of the time, we find
John in the wilderness, telling all he met to prepare for the coming of the
Lord. He was promising that the ancient
words of the prophets were to come true.
John, who is often portrayed as a man with
wild hair, wrapped in animal skins, living off berries and other “found” food,
comes out of the wilderness, the desert, those seemingly bare places and tells
people to prepare the way of the Lord.
Prepare for the coming of change.
Prepare for something unbelievable.
Prepare. Everyone. All flesh.
Prepare.
How terrifying! And yet, how hopeful!
Repent for your sins and you will be
saved!
Be baptized and you will be forgiven!
I don’t know about you, but this image is a
little unsettling for me. I see John,
bursting from the hinterland, looking a little worse for wear and I hear him
spouting a message that is both condemning and forgiving. Certainly not the kind of messenger I would
expect to foretell the coming of a Savior.
And yet, I have to ask myself, “Really,
Debbie? What do you expect?” Or maybe, “What do you want to expect?”
What should the messenger look like?
These past few weeks have been tough. Folks have been actively seeking “Justice for
Jamar [Clark]” in Minneapolis. These folks have marched, blocked highway traffic and
set up a makeshift headquarters next to the police station. These folks have been generally peaceful in
their protest … there was no burning or breaking or looting here. Instead, there were messengers, coming out
from their wilderness, speaking out about the dramatic disparity between
people.
I have friends who were part of the protests,
who voiced solidarity on social media, who have prayed, who found ways to
support the protest. I saw women I know
on newscasts, speaking their truth, their story, in the microphones of
reporters. I have read blog after blog
and story after story and comment after comment. Are these not messengers?
Are the messages that “Black Lives
Matter,” “Hands Up, Don’t Shoot,” and
hoodie-wearing in solidarity [with Trayvon Martin] that unlike John’s messages? Are these folks simply finding their voices
and their forums to turn the world upside down?
Are the messages designed to make some of us uncomfortable, to make some
of us think and to help many of us change?
Was the deconstruction of the protest by
authorities at four in the morning the other day just another show of imperial
power, not unlike the political and religious power that was defined in the
first verses of today’s Gospel?
The words of the Prophet Isaiah, the ones we
read today, telling us to prepare the way of the Lord? Those words paint a picture of a level
playing field. Filling valleys. Flattening mountains. Straightening
roads. Smoothing the rough.
How is any of this possible?
The flat surfaces around our living space are
empty of things, but in their bareness they are still piled high this Advent
season.
I can’t tell you how often the events of
these past few weeks have led me into my own bare places, my own wilderness, to
reflect. I don’t know why the world
seems so unstable. Often, I feel
paralyzed, not knowing how to respond.
I’m not like so many of my seminary friends and clergy colleagues who
march and rally. I don't feel equipped or gifted that way. I need time to learn about issues. And yet I understand the deep, systemic injustices
that have been embedded in our society and that manifest in moments like these.
I understand that “truth” can be contextual and that people will stand up for
what they believe is right, but not necessarily what the others believe is
right. I understand that there is always
more than one side to a story.
I also understand that nothing is easy to
change. All will take time. But I need these messengers to remind me
of this.
I need these messengers to send me into deep reflection and study to help me understand my role in making these changes.
I need these messengers in Advent.
John was called to go before the Lord to
prepare the way. He wasn’t a scholar or
a priest or a governor. He was a man who
heard God while he was in the wilderness.
He cried out to the people he met, average people, people who scrambled
to survive, people who lived on the margins, giving them something for which to
hope. He reminded that the ancient words
of Isaiah promised that those who would repent and ask forgiveness would see
God. Through their repentance their
crooked way would become straight, their rough patches would become smooth and
their hills and valleys would be flat. Their way to God would become easy.
For what, during this Advent season, do I
need to ask forgiveness? Where do I need
to repent? What do I need to do to make
my path straight so that the way of the Lord is easy?
Because that’s what it’s all about, isn’t
it? The words from Isaiah are not saying
that God will make the world flat or the roads straight or smooth out the rough
stuff. That’s up to me. It’s up to you. We are the only ones who can make our
relationship with the Lord easy by laying our individual selves bare.
Bare … as a sign of vulnerability.
Bare … as a sign of repentance.
Bare … as a sign of forgiveness.
Bare … as an empty vessel, ready for change.
Bare … as a beloved child of God.
Bare … prepared for the salvation of God.
Prepare the way of the Lord!
Let us pray.
Holy One, You send messengers to remind your people of your constant presence among us. Sometimes these messages are hard to hear, hard to comprehend and seem unattainable. Open hearts and minds to the messages of justice and peace and love. Help your children during this time of reflection and preparation to find bare spaces to receive what it is you want to teach. Fill these vessels with love and compassion to overflowing, spreading your goodwill to all. Amen.
Holy One, You send messengers to remind your people of your constant presence among us. Sometimes these messages are hard to hear, hard to comprehend and seem unattainable. Open hearts and minds to the messages of justice and peace and love. Help your children during this time of reflection and preparation to find bare spaces to receive what it is you want to teach. Fill these vessels with love and compassion to overflowing, spreading your goodwill to all. Amen.