Saturday, December 19, 2020

4 Advent Yr B December 20 2020




4 Advent Yr B December 20 2020

2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16, Romans 16:25-27, Luke 1:26-38, Canticle 15

 

It is the voices of women we hear today. A reprise of Mary’s song, and this story of Mary and Elizabeth. I love that the women get the last word before the glorious impossible, the incarnation, God bursting into humanity with new life, hope, peace, joy, and love. 

 

I have never quite believed that Mary sat quietly and meekly while her life changed completely and absolutely. When I close my eyes and try to imagine this scene, I see Mary. In my imagination, Mary is a very young girl, and yet very excited to be a woman, and ready to be married to Joseph. Mary is a Jewish girl; she knows well the stories of God’s activity in the life of her people. She has lived her whole life in this community of faith. Mary has lived her whole life in the community of people who believe there is a special relationship between God and them. They believe that their story, the story of this community, day in and day out, through slavery, wilderness, kingdoms, and exile, is the story of God’s working through them to accomplish the divine purposes on earth.

God is trusting God’s people to have raised Mary in the right way, to have taught her the story of faith, taught her to recognize God’s hand at work in her life. Gabriel has made the proposition. The great archangel has announced God’s purpose, the heavenly messenger has posed the question, and the girl is clearly troubled.

Mary is perplexed. Perplexed in Greek leans much more towards “to be in doubt” or “not to know how to decide or what to do.” In my imagination, this is much closer to how I see Mary responding. Actually, I think Mary must have been terrified. The sort of terrified you get when your stomach just seems to twist and fall out of you. She must have wondered what was happening to her, being visited by an angel was a new thing, there weren't stories of her people about an angel visit. 


I imagine Mary saying something like, “Not me, no way, I can’t do that. Don’t ask such a thing of me, I’m only a girl. You’ve got the wrong person. The God bearer should be royal, a person of honor, it can’t be me.” She must have doubted herself; she must have doubted her own capability to be the God bearer. Any young girl would. What must have gone through her mind?

And Gabriel responds, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.” Mary, you are the one. Mary is low born, without title, without power. And this is the very place of incarnation. God sees the suffering and comes low to meet people in their sorrow. Jesus always sought proximity to people who were hurting or alone or in need, and Jesus was always there grieving alongside them, tending to their wounds, making them feel seen. 

 

Gabriel does go on to remind Mary of the story she already knows, the story of her people, and who this son is to be. Mary wants to know how this can be. We want to know how this can be. This is incredible, inconceivable, incarnation is unreasonable. This doesn’t make sense. Gabriel explains that the Holy Spirit will take care of it, and then gives her evidence of the possibility, her old, barren cousin Elizabeth is also pregnant, nothing will be impossible with God.

How can this be? How can Mary get pregnant by God? Is all of Christianity founded on this inconceivable possibility? I ask this question, because this question has been asked of me, by adults and children alike, by your children, by my children. I turn to one of my favorite writers, Madeleine L’Engle when I ponder these things. She writes in a book called Bright Evening Star, “It is not that in believing the story of Jesus we skip reason, but that sometimes we have to go beyond it, take leaps with our imagination, push our brains further than the normally used parts of them are used to going.” She goes on to write “I had to let go all my prejudices and demands for proof and open myself to the wonder of love. Faith is not reasonable because it wasn’t for reason, but for love that Jesus came.”

It is for love that Jesus came. And so, for love, Mary says yes. And it is in love that we light the fourth candle on the advent wreath today.

This is the story of these women, and it speaks volumes to us today. What does Mary’s yes to the love of God, have to do with us? Mary’s active, engaged yes, empowers each of us to say yes to the possibility of God in our midst. Mary’s yes can be our yes. Indeed, it is because of Mary's yes and Elizabeth’s declaration that Love wins. The angel Gabriel announced to Mary, “Hail favored one, the Lord is with you.” The Lord is with you, these are not just words spoken to Mary, these are words spoken to each of us and to all of us. Mary said yes, God waits for each of us to say yes.

The terrifying part of Gabriel’s invitation is what will happen if we say yes? What does God-bearing look like? Mary didn’t know, she risked everything when she said yes; she risked everything on the promise that God was with her. All we know is that saying yes to God changes everything and risks everything we have. 

 

Mary’s yes was brave, and terrifying. Mary’s yes became fierce as her son grew into his fullness, his call, and she watched the powers turn against him. Can we be brave and fierce like Mary? Can we put ourselves aside and say yes to God in the flesh, incredible, inconceivable, incarnation?

The story is about God and God’s love for us. It’s about the promise God made to Mary and God makes to us to bring us out of a life of greed and why not me, into a life that bears hope and promise. The real world is the world in which Mary said yes to God, and the world in which each of us says yes to God. It is living fully and completely, it is feeling pain and joy, it is giving and receiving, it is life, and it is death. This world is messy and confusing and often scary. A world into which God is born in a dirty barn, so that love could burst forth. It is a world in which we enter into relationships with one another, where we see each other face to face, it is a world in which how God created us is wonderful, it is a world in which we understand the sacred in each of us and treat each other as if we were all God-bearers.

“Fear not, here comes God.” We should be terrified, and reassured at the very same time that our yes brings Christ into this world. We Christians have been taught to look for the Christ in everyone we meet, to practice a radical hospitality to serve the Christ in each other, for in serving them we are serving Christ himself. What do we -- each of us -- have to offer the Christ this year? Where do we see the signs that Christ has been born among us?

Mary’s yes didn’t just happen all those years ago, Mary’s yes happens everyday you and I bear love ourselves. God is still up to something. God continues to burst forth in our lives. Love wins. 

Saturday, December 12, 2020

3 Advent Yr B December 13 2020



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3 Advent Yr B December 13 2020

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11, 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24, John 1:6-8,19-28, Psalm 126 or Canticle 15

 

Every time I hear these verses from John, I hear The Who singing “Who are you”. That ages me I suppose. Who are you, I really want to know, tell me, who are you, the verses in that song continue on in a search for identity, who are you? A long time before that recording, the priests and Levites ask Who are you, and John the baptizer confesses, or witnesses, or testifies, all the same word, exactly to who he is not, he is not the Messiah. Who he is, his identity, is the voice of one crying in the wilderness, make straight the way of the Lord. 

 

This third week of Advent, we, like John the Baptist, are called to know who we are, God’s beloveds, and to witness to the light, so that all may believe. Today I want you to consider three things that John the Baptist is doing to witness to the light. 

 

First, it is rare and refreshing, John has zero-interest in making this about himself. We are so used to this character John the Baptist, that I think we don’t feel the extent to which he puts himself aside for Jesus. John has his own posse, his own band of followers. And here comes this upstart Jesus, preaching a new way. From the constant self-expression and self-aggrandizement encouraged, promoted, and even demanded by social media to the posturing of too many political candidates as the only person who can do the job, we are living during a distinctly ego-centric, if not full-on narcissistic, time in our culture. We experience it everywhere. From not listening to the experts in science because you think you know better, to demanding the right to do whatever you darn well please in public, this is not about you at all. John shows us that. John sets himself aside and points to Jesus and witnesses to the light that is coming into the world. 

 

Second, in this way, John stands as a model and example of what life lived in response to God’s call looks like. And what does that look like? You are God’s beloved, you are enough, you are what God made you to be. So many could be disappointed and frustrated with John not taking power and opposing Jesus. John is very clear in himself that he is the voice in the wilderness, the one that points to Jesus, but is not the long expected Messiah.

 

As we consider John as a model and example of what life lived in response to God’s call looks like, we must also consider Mary, whose Magnificat we read together. The song of Mary that we sing each Sunday of Advent, is the oldest Advent hymn. It is also the most passionate, the wildest, and one might almost say the most revolutionary Advent hymn that has ever been sung. This is not the gentle, tender, dreamy Mary as we often see her portrayed in paintings. The Mary who is speaking here is passionate, carried away, proud, enthusiastic. There is none of the sweet, wistful, or even playful tone of many of our Christmas carols, but instead a hard, strong, relentless hymn about the toppling of the thrones and the humiliation of the lords of this world, about the power of God and the powerlessness of humankind. This is the sound of the prophetic women of the Old Testament—Deborah, Judith, Miriam—coming to life in the mouth of Mary. Mary, who was seized by the power of the Holy Spirit, and who speaks, by the power of this same Spirit, about God’s coming into the world, about the Advent of Jesus Christ. Like John, Mary puts aside her own self interest for this glorious impossible. 

 

She, of course, knows better than anyone else what it means to wait for Christ’s coming. Her waiting is different from that of any other human being. She expects Jesus as his mother. Jesus is closer to her than to anyone else. She knows the secret of his coming, knows about the Spirit, who has a part in it, about the Almighty God, who has performed this miracle. In her own body she is experiencing the wonderful ways of God with humankind: that God does not arrange matters to suit our opinions and views, does not follow the path that humans would like to prescribe. God’s path is free and original beyond all our ability to understand or to prove.

 

There, where our understanding is outraged, where our nature rebels, where our piety anxiously keeps its distance—that is exactly where God loves to be. There, though it confounds the understanding of sensible people, though it irritates our nature and our piety, God wills to be, and none of us can forbid it. Only the humble believe and rejoice that God is so gloriously free, performing miracles where humanity despairs and glorifying that which is lowly and of no account. For just this is the miracle of all miracles, that God loves the lowly. God “has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.” God in the midst of lowliness—that is the revolutionary, passionate word of Advent. *

*– Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945), ‘Collected Sermons of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’

 

And thirdly, John the gospel writer invites us to an acceptance of our identity as God’s beloveds. Rather than striving for the affirmation of others we are free to make the sacrifices required that deepen our sense of calling, purpose, and meaning. 

 

And in that light, because I am and we are God’s beloveds, and part of our call is to set ourselves aside and point to Jesus, I am choosing to receive this Advent during Covidtide as a gift, maybe you will too. Advent, and preparation for Christmas, has often been a time of stress, a time of expectation that cannot be met. But this time, we have the opportunity to name it all, and do it quite differently. Rather than hiding sadness and grief and loss from the world and from our friends, the gift is that we are all in it together. Rather than working ourselves into a frenetic ball of nerves about not getting it all done, we let go of our perceptions of control and affirm our call as god-bearers, and like Mary we receive the gift of new birth. And as those of you who have given birth know, it’s scary and joyful all at the same time. And with Mary and John at our side, we claim our voice to call out God is here, Love wins. 

Saturday, December 5, 2020

2 Advent Yr B December 6 2020



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2 Advent Yr B December 6 2020

Isaiah 40:1-11, 2 Peter 3:8-15a, Mark 1:1-8, Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13

 

Jesus’ first words in Mark’s gospel are in chapter 1 verses 14 and 15. There Jesus says, “the time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel” after being in the wilderness for forty days. We must look at these very first verses in Mark’s gospel through that lens. The time is fulfilled, the kingdom of God is at hand, repent and believe in this Good News. We must, because Mark points us through the prophet Isaiah and John the baptizer to the God who is here in our midst. In Isaiah we read “your God is here!” and Mark announces that God is present. You see, this is what God does, God shows up and God shows a new way. 

 

This beginning of Mark’s gospel takes place in the wilderness. John the baptizer appears in the wilderness. This is important. I want you to hear how important this is. Jesus is found on the edge, and Jesus also belongs there. Not in the power center of the polis, the city. But in the wilderness, or at the river, or the seashore, or in the home of a poor family among the farm animals. This decentering of God is the Good News! God shows a new way, the old way just isn’t working any more. 

 

God shows up and God shows a new way. That way is not the way of power but the way of love. And when God moves, walls come a tumblin’ down. Boundaries are crossed. Margins are erased. The heavens are torn in two. Doves descend. All manner of being is upended. 

 

In Mark’s gospel, Jesus is a boundary breaker. Story after story shows us this. There’s the story of the paralytic, the one whose friends climbed up on a roof and lowered him into the house where Jesus was. First there was a wall of people preventing them from getting to Jesus, and secondly, once they climbed up on the roof, they had to dig their way through the roof to get to Jesus. Walls come a tumblin’ down. And then the man with the scaly skin disease, unclean according to the law. In touching that man, Jesus made himself unclean and shattered the boundary of purity that put those who had the disease outside the community, on the margins. That wall came a tumblin’ down. And then, Jesus calls a tax-collector to follow him, and then goes on to eat with him. Jesus shows a blatant disregard for the laws of purity and social propriety, the walls come a tumblin’ down. Just a few examples. These stories in Mark’s gospel are framed by a beginning boundary breaking story and an ending boundary breaking story. At the beginning, Jesus is baptized by John in the Jordan, and the heavens are torn apart and the Spirit shows up. And near the end, which is really not much of an end at all, Jesus is on the cross, and while the sun’s light failed, the curtain of the temple was torn in two and everyone knew something new was going on. 

 

Mark is working mighty hard to tell us that God breaks into our world, and nothing can be the same. God shows up in this new way, and through Jesus breaks down the barriers that hold God at a distance. God shows up and Jesus shows us the way of love, the way of forgiveness, the way of peace. This is what incarnation is all about; God breaking boundaries to be with us, lovable, fallible, joyful, broken, human beings; Jesus breaking boundaries that redefine who is included in God’s kingdom; the Spirit breaking boundaries to inspire us to love and care for our neighbor. Why is this important? The thing God changes in Jesus IS the boundary that separates human beings from God. God breaks that boundary and God offers love and forgiveness. This is good news indeed.

 

Not only is incarnation about breaking boundaries in scripture, but it is about breaking boundaries now. How do we witness Jesus breaking boundaries in our lives? Just as Jesus reached across the boundary of purity to touch the man with the scaly skin, we reach across boundaries when we stand up for full inclusion in the decision making in this country by people who have been historically excluded. We reach across boundaries when we insist on equal health care, education, or access to voting. We reach across boundaries and walls come a tumblin’ down when we offer love and forgiveness and peace to all God’ children. 

 

Christmas is THE boundary breaking event. God tumbling into this world as a baby, to parents of no means, in a humble house, only to be pursued by an evil emperor. In these Advent days, we participate in this wonderful and amazing good news that God is here! God is with us, God is in our midst. And God keeps at it. God keeps coming to us. That’s the now and not yet of Advent. 

 

It feels a little harder, this Advent, in this Covidtide, to identify God with us. We’ve been so used to seeing and experiencing God as our beautiful church is decorated for Christmas, and as we rehearse Christmas music. Even our secular expression of Christmas is subdued, a little less partying, shopping, carrying on. I wonder if this isn’t an opportunity to do some things differently. I know I have been more intentional about pausing each day to light my advent candle and I have Christmas lights inside and outside my house. I want to observe even more closely how the light overcomes the dark, I want to watch the boundary breaking reality of this glorious impossible, this incarnation. 

 

What remains, is that God is here, in flesh and blood. God is here in each of us as we reach out with love to those who are alone, those who are vulnerable, those who are losing hope. Each time we pray Morning Prayer we say In you, Lord, is our hope; And we shall never hope in vain. 

 

Peace be with you this day, and throughout this Advent season. 

Fourth Sunday in Lent Yr B March 10 2024

Fourth Sunday in Lent Yr B March 10 2024 St. Martha and Mary, Egan MN  Numbers 21:4-9, Ephesians 2:1-10, John 3:14-21, Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22 ...