Christmas 2021

Christmas 2021

Isaiah 62:6-12, Titus 3:4-7, Luke 2:(1-7)8-20, Psalm 97

 

Merry Christmas! Here we are, the day of incarnation. We have been waiting, preparing, anticipating, 

 

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness - on them light has shined. Here in front of us is this story, this story that not only tells us but shows us that the light shines in the darkness. The prophet Isaiah not only spoke to the people of thousands of years ago, but speaks to us today. You and me and all of humanity yearn for, long for, the goodness and light to call us out of our darkness. What is true is that you and me and all of humanity yearn to know the God who sees us, who favors us, who loves us so completely, that God breaks into our present with the presence that swaddles us in the love that heals, the love that sustains, the love that forgives, the love that wins.

 

We pick up the story today, as Joseph and Mary are arriving in Bethlehem. Mary is ready to give birth to this child, this bundle of flesh, this vulnerable baby. And they must travel to another town to be there for the census, with hundreds, if not thousands of others, marching across the border from Galilee to Bethlehem, to be counted. So many people, and no place to stay. So out back, with the animals, Mary sits down, and has her baby. They wrapped that baby up tight, and waited for the next thing to happen.

 

And the next thing that happens is that people start coming from all over the place. Shepherds, angels, and eventually those wise guys from the east. It’s almost like a gawker slowdown on the interstate. Something has happened, and we all slow down to look.

 

Luke tells us and has been telling us about this birth since we began reading Luke at the beginning of Advent. We began our Advent journey at the end, remember? Endings look a lot like beginnings and beginnings look a lot like endings. Here we are tonight, at the end, or is it the beginning, of the story. We accompanied John the baptizer in the wilderness. We were with Mary and Elizabeth as they recognized God’s favor with them. God sees them, and God sees us. John the baptizer is in the wilderness, not the seats of power. Elizabeth is in the hill country, not the seats of power. And Mary’s baby is born in a stable, not the seats of power. Luke uses all of this to point us to what is important. 

 

And what is important to Luke is that the good news of God in the flesh, God in all flesh, is delivered to the shepherds. Not the seats of power. Luke says to us, Jesus will be your savior and lord, not the emperor. Luke says all will be favored. God comes to the angels in the field. The meeting of the human and divine is in the fields, not the temple, not Jerusalem. God is here, God, in the flesh, is here. 

 

A child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. The good news is that God breaks into our present with the presence that swaddles us, all of us, in the love that sees us, heals us, sustains us, forgives us, the love that wins.

 

This unbelievable, unreasonable, inconceivable truth, that God is in our midst, is no longer unbelievable, unreasonable, or inconceivable. Because the grace is all around us. This story that we tell as each Christmas comes and goes, is the story of the baby born in the manger, the angels singing and the shepherds coming to see him, the wise men who read the stars and recognize this world changing event. This story is not about comfort, or nostalgia or romance. It is about God who loves us absolutely and abundantly, and who wants us and all of creation to know that Love wins. It is about God who loves us absolutely and abundantly, and who wants to meet us flesh to flesh. It is about God who loves us absolutely and abundantly, and who wants us to join with Mary as she says yes to the difficulty and pain and joy of new life and new birth. It is the story that changes everything.

 

We continue to experience much tragedy, we wonder about how to make peace in our homes, our communities, our countries. This Christmas event, this wonderful counselor, mighty God, everlasting father, prince of peace, shows us the way. This Christmas event, this Galilean carpenter, shows us the way. This Christmas event, these angels and shepherds and prophets, show us the way. This Christmas event, this baby born in a barn, shows us the way.

 

Christmas is about God showing us the way to love. Christmas is about God showing us the way to peace. Christmas is about God showing us the way to hope. God shows us through this birth, this new life, this new beginning, this powerless baby and these powerless parents in this ordinary stable. God came to dwell with humanity to show us about love. God comes to dwell with us in the flesh so that in the flesh we live life fully and completely. Emmanuel, God with us in the flesh. God came to be with us in the flesh not to relieve us of the mess and the muck of this life, the suffering and the pain of this life, but in the flesh God stands by our side, takes our hand, sometimes even carries us, and loves us.

 

And that kind of love changes us, we can't help but be changed. God in the flesh reminds us in our flesh that we don't need to be perfect because we are perfectly loved. We don't need to consume and acquire to possess worth, we are enough just the way we are created. God in the flesh reminds us in our flesh that we don't need to gain attention to earn God's love, God has already loved us into ourselves.

 

Transformation happens in our lives as we take seriously the love that God shows us in the flesh. Our hearts expand, our hearts break, we give, we receive, we grow, we die. We do not despair, or lose hope, we do not harm, we work for the good of the others with whom we share this rock, because we know that love wins. Transformation happens in our lives as we take seriously the love that God shows us in the flesh. We come here on this night/morning seeking God in the flesh, and we receive God in the flesh, Jesus, in the bread and the wine at this table, at these steps, and we are made into that flesh which God is. We are made into God's body in the world.

 

We go home, and share our own meals, we gather around our own tables, we spend time together, we give and receive presents. And we go out into the world bearing God's love, bearing the light that grows and grows and grows. We go out into the world as God's transformed body, God's flesh in our flesh, making a difference in every dark corner, in the places that need healing and wholeness and love. We go out into the world as God's body, God's flesh in our flesh, seeking God’s presence in everyone we encounter, and we show the world that love wins.

 

This birth more than 2000 years ago matters as much to us today as it did then because there continues to be those who don’t understand the nature of God’s love for all of God’s creation. There are people who continue to think that hate can defeat love, there are those who continue to think that violence is a solution when we disagree, but we know differently.

 

We know that the God who created all that is seen and unseen, the God of love, dreams for us a world in which all people are treated with dignity and respect and compassion. The God of love, who comes to us as a baby born in a barn, who comes to us as the child who must flee it’s home, who comes to us as the one whose arms of love embrace the hardwood of the cross, dreams for us a world in which we keep Christ in Christmas, by feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, forgiving the unforgivable, welcoming the stranger and the unwanted, caring for the sick, loving our enemies.

 

We are to be the surprise, we are to do the unexpected. We are to say yes with Mary to this inconceivable incarnation. We are to say yes to God made really present in you. We are the light bearers, we are the peace bearers, we are the love bearers. Amen. 

Fourth Sunday of Advent Yr C Dec 19 2021

Fourth Sunday of Advent Yr C Dec 19 2021

Micah 5:2-5a, Hebrews 10:5-10, Luke 1:39-45, (46-55), Canticle 15

 

When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leapt in her womb. Elizabeth, barren and too old to conceive, Mary, unmarried and too young to have a baby, both of these women have been favored by God. Elizabeth exclaims, “This is what the lord has done for me when he looked favorably on me and took away the disgrace I have endured among my people.” Being barren in Elizabeth’s world was shameful. Shame means unworthy, and yet in this story Elizabeth is far from shamed, far from unworthy, she is favored by God. And Elizabeth recognizes Mary also as a favored one. Favor here means being seen, being regarded. 

 

Elizabeth’s and Mary’s stories are woven together, they are both favored by God. They are both seen by God, they are both regarded by God. Elizabeth stands up and claims God’s regard for herself, and then proclaims God’s regard for her young cousin Mary. Elizabeth knows the blessedness of Mary because she has experienced it herself. Elizabeth calls Mary “mother of my Lord.” And Elizabeth feels a leap of joy in her womb. These are indeed inconceivable conceptions. 

 

Being seen, being regarded by God, as both Elizabeth and Mary are, this is no small thing. One of the deepest longings of the human soul is to be seen. You see, this is what is happening in these inconceivable conceptions. God came into Elizabeth’s life when her culture judged her worthless and barren, and God lifted her up among women and she bore John, the preparer of the way. God came into Mary’s life, a young Jewish girl, and told her she would be the mother of God. And yes, Mary did know. God came low, and saw Elizabeth and Mary, regarded Elizabeth and Mary, favored Elizabeth and Mary. God comes into our midst, God comes low. God comes into the mess and the muck of our lives, our stables. God stoops, and looks into our eyes and says, you are worthy, you are favored, you are loved. 

 

God finds Elizabeth and Mary, in the temple and in the farmyard, around the family table, and God sees them. God sees Mary, young Mary, of no means, and God risks everything, and enters creation in the same way you and I did, as a baby. Before God fed us with bread and wine, body and blood, God was fed by a mother who was exhausted and unsure. 

 

Have you ever asked yourself why you are a follower of Jesus? I have, and this is why. Right here, God, the creator of all that is seen and unseen, comes low, and in the vulnerability of a baby, says to Mary, and Elizabeth, and all the women before them and after them, I see you, you are favored. And not just the women, but men too, and all the others in between. God enters the wilderness and lifts up the lowly and scatters the proud. God sees us, God loves us, God favors us. God wants to know us. 

 

Even when that is so hard to believe. Remember, faith is not reasonable because it wasn’t for reason, but for love that Jesus came. 

 

It is for love that Jesus came, and maybe we can respond like Mary, like Elizabeth. Maybe we can respond with shouts of joy, with dances of gladness. This Good News changes us forever; it changes our world forever. It is as inconceivable and unreasonable that each of us is a God-bearer as it is that Mary is a Christ-bearer. It is inconceivable that God bursts into our world. And yet, all of Advent we wait in active anticipation of the moment that God bursts into our world as a baby, and that God bursts into our world to bring our history; our lives, to fulfillment. 

 

Mary takes her place among the messengers of God’s kingdom, from Miriam and Hannah to Isaiah and Malichi, all those who were prompted by the spirit of God to call their people to repent and rejoice. Mary’s song calls us to respond in joy and praise. The gospel of Luke is filled with people singing songs of praise. I want you to open those prayer books in front of you and remind yourselves. The Benedictus, known as the song of Zechariah, Luke 1:68-79, page 92, Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel. The Nunc Dimittus, the song of Simeon, Luke 2:29-32, p. 93, Lord, you now have set your servant free, the Magnificat, the song of Mary, Luke 1:46-55, p. 91, My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord. And Luke’s gospel ends in the temple with praise, after the ascension, they returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually in the temple blessing God. The response to joy is praise. Luke gives us the words to praise. 

 

Mary has been seen by God. She has been raised a good Jewish girl. She knows her scripture, she knows her place. Saying yes to God puts her in a very awkward, precarious, and dangerous position. She is not perfect, but she is perfectly loved. God comes low to inhabit a most vulnerable creation, a baby, born from a woman of no account, in a most humble place, a barn. And Mary responds, my soul proclaims the goodness of the Lord. 

 

And she also sings about the justice God brings to God’s people with the birth of love. Mary’s song of praise is also Mary’s song of justice. God is born in a barn, to Mary, and to Joseph, who have very little, but who say yes to this love. Mary knows that this life will be filled with heartache that will give birth to God in our midst. God favors Mary, God sees Mary. Saying yes to God makes this life joyful, but not easy. 

 

God sees you too, God loves you too. What is your Magnificat? What is your response to God’s magnificent love? I find my Magnificat contained in a Christmas Hymn,

 

O Holy Night!

The stars are brightly shining

It is the night of the dear Savior's birth!

Long lay the world in sin and error pining

Till he appear'd and the soul felt its worth.

A thrill of hope the weary soul rejoices

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!

 

May you say yes with Mary, may you trust that you have found favor with God and recognize yourself in the mirror of God’s love, may your soul cry out with a joyful shout that the God of your heart is great.

 

Amen.

Third Sunday in Advent Dec 12 2021

Third Sunday in Advent Dec 12 2021

Zephaniah 3:14-20, Philippians 4:4-7, Luke 3:7-18, Canticle 9

 

John, the unlikely bearer of good news, is the one who from the wilderness, not the seats of power, announces the coming of the kingdom. Prepare, the world is about to change. You are about to change. Remember, the repentance that John calls us to is not about feeling bad or good or even shame, repentance is a change of direction in mind and action. It is a change of perspective accompanied by bearing fruit. John describes specifically what should happen. John addresses the question that the crowds, the tax collectors, and the soldiers ask; what should we do? And John’s answer is do something. Do what you know is right, share your warm clothing and your food. Make sure you take only what you need, no more. And know what is enough. This is the good news that John proclaimed to the people. 

 

John’s baptism was not exactly the same as Jesus’ baptism. John’s baptismal call was to repentance, turn around, don’t be doing the same stuff you’ve been doing all along. This is necessary John tells us, and then John says Jesus will add another layer. Jesus will baptize with the Holy Spirit. You see, change is hard, the change that John calls those who were at the Jordan River to is hard, the change that we are called to is hard. But Jesus brings along the Holy Spirit, Jesus is the one who says, with the Holy Spirit you can do hard things, and maybe even impossible things. 

 

Look at the gloriously impossible things that have already begun to happen in Luke’s story. We are reminded of the glorious impossibility of Sarah, who in her very old age laughed to know that she would finally bear a child, and not just any child, but one who would be the father of nations. We are reminded of the glorious impossibility of Elizabeth, who in her old age also would bear a son, a son who announces the Messiah. And we are reminded of the glorious impossibility of Mary, who should not be pregnant at all, who was spared stoning for being pregnant, and who bore Jesus, the love that would cause her heartache and the love that walks with us through this life.  

 

Luke’s story is about turning, about change, about transformation and this glorious impossibility that Jesus brings to all of us who follow. But it’s not just about our own personal turning, which is indeed necessary, but it is also about the turning of our communities. Diana Butler Bass, a well known contemporary writer on the church in society, wrote in the Huffington Post, "Christians recollect God's ancient promise to Israel for a kingdom where lion and lamb will lie down together. The ministers preach from stark biblical texts about the poor and oppressed being lifted up while the rich and powerful are cast down, about society being leveled and oppression ceasing. Christians remember the Hebrew prophets and long for a Jewish Messiah to be born. The Sunday readings extol social and economic justice, and sermons are preached about the cruelty of ancient Rome and political repression. Hymns anticipate world peace and universal harmony." 

 

Diana Butler Bass describes advent, and yet we want easy, and romantic, and nostalgic. But that’s not what the story tells us. John calls us to be ready for the one who is coming, the one who has come, the one who turns the world. God in our midst, Emmanuel, the baby born in a barn, the one who shows us that Love wins and calls us to deepen our commitment to loving one another, calls us to deepen our commitment to compassion and to mercy.

 

These winter days are dark. They are short, the light is with us for only a few hours. These winter days are dark, there is much violence and sadness that may lead us to believe that the light really has gone out of the world. But Advent reminds us that the Light is never extinguished. Advent reminds us that even if it seems dark, the Light is there, and the Light will brighten even the darkest corners of our world when. Advent reminds us that God walks with us, God does not take away our sadness and our pain, but God walks with us through the sadness and the pain.

 

We live in this in-between time, in this time of the already but not yet. We live in this time where we tell the story of Jesus birth, we await Jesus’ birth, and we imagine the end, God's fulfillment of all time when the lion lays down with the lamb. This is where our hope is. It is in the already but not yet. We know what God has done in creation, we await what God will do in creation, and we live our lives in God's grace. There's no guarantee of happiness, there's no guarantee that pain and sadness will not visit us, there's no guarantee of prosperity. But there is love, there is hope, there is joy.

 

So what do we do in this dark time, what do we do as we wait for the Light to fill the room? What do we do as all around us we hear hate filled speech? What do we do when we hear calls to exclude and mark the ones who are not like us? What do we do when those who seek power rile us up by spewing fear? We don't do nothing. Waiting is not doing nothing. We love one another as God has loved us. We speak out, and we live out, against exclusion and hate. We speak out and we live out, our belief that God loves all of God’s creation, heck, God loves us, it’s certain that God loves all the others as well.  We stand up with and for our neighbors, the neighbors who live next door and the neighbors who live across the world.  

 

We hold one another, we listen to each other, we bring light into each other's lives, we do not wait alone. We are God's household, you, and me, and all of us. We bear God's light and love into. We bring healing and wholeness to those whose lives are torn apart. We bear the Good News that Love wins. 

 

As you know, there's always a lot of chatter about wishing folks a Merry Christmas at this time of the year. One of the problems with that conversation is that it misses the point. The point being that we are not at Christmas yet. And when we finally get to Christmas, and it's time to wish one another Merry Christmas, many are already tired of the whole thing, and their Christmas trees and Christmas wrappings are in the trash.

 

We live in Advent because we human beings need to spend time waiting and preparing for this event that turns the world, this event that brings light into the darkness, this event that makes the first last and the last first. We can't just jump into it. We can't just jump from Halloween to Christmas without some time to be immersed in the mystery of incarnation; this mystery that we struggle so to understand, this mystery that seems unreasonable and impossible, this mystery that takes leaps with our imaginations. In Advent, we get glimpses of God’s inbreaking, but it takes time for that mystery to grow in our hearts, and in our souls, and in our lives. It takes space for God who is with us, to sit down next to us and teach us that Love wins. It takes quiet to hear the voice of the one crying in the wilderness, and to hear the voice that calls us to turn, the voice that calls us to love one another. Amen.

 

Second Sunday of Advent Yr C 2021

Second Sunday of Advent Yr C 2021

Baruch 5:1-9, Philippians 1:3-11, Luke 3:1-6, Canticle 16

 

Nine months Zechariah was quiet, nine months he could not speak, nine months Elizabeth didn't hear him complain, nine months he had to think about what his first words would be. And those first words out of Zechariah's mouth were "Blessed be The Lord God of Israel, for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them." Zechariah was a priest in the temple. What did he do for those nine months of silence, those nine months of preparation for this child who could not be, this child to be born to his barren wife Elizabeth, this child who was an impossibility, this child who would prepare the way for the one to come after him. Zechariah waited in silence. Silence in the face of mystery, silence in the presence of new life, silence, as the world is about to turn.

 

John the Baptist, son of Zechariah, the priest of the temple and his wife Elizabeth, was as different from his father as locusts are different from lobster. John, son of Zechariah and Elizabeth, lived in the wilderness, not in the temple confines like his father and mother. John, an itinerant preacher, son of Zechariah, priest of the temple, proclaimed a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. Not temple sacrifice, not temple piety, but repentance. John, son of Zechariah and Elizabeth, preparing the way for the one who is to come. The one who changes everything.

 

The world is about to turn. The coming of Christ into the world changes everything. Blessed be the Lord God. 

 

You see, what is happening in this gospel passage has far reaching effects. This story of John, and the story of Jesus, is set squarely in the political context of its day. In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas. It is at this time and this place that God is doing something new, that the world is turning, that change is happening. We are being pointed toward this absolutely new thing that God is doing in the world. 

 

Luke is clearly setting up the dichotomy between this roll call of important persons, and those on the margins and in the wilderness: John the one who baptizes, Mary, who sings “he has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly”, Elizabeth who has been thrown away because she cannot conceive a child, and the others in Luke, the widow whose son Jesus seemingly raises from the dead, the woman who anoints Jesus’ feet, the man who crosses the road to help his neighbor, the son who is lost, Zacchaeus, these are just a few. 

 

God is doing something new, and we are to prepare for it, we are to stay awake, keep alert, be ready. The birth of two baby boys, first John and then Jesus, has everything to do with everything, Luke is saying. These seemingly insignificant baby boys change the world, Luke knows that and is telling us that. 

 

Luke has John say these words from Isaiah. “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”

 

In Isaiah these words are about God leading God's people out of exile, back to their land. God will make straight paths through the wilderness, a smooth and easy return -- in essence a new "exodus" -- bringing the people of Israel out of bondage and back to the Promised Land. The path is for the people; God-made, God-led. And in Luke, John points directly at Jesus, who comes to empower and finish the re-turn of God's people to their God. John points to Jesus who shows all humanity that Love wins.

 

These two bundles of promise, John, born to Elizabeth and Zechariah, and Jesus, born to Mary and Joseph, bring God's love into time and space. These two bundles of hope, show us that the world is about to change. These two bundles of peace, speak truth to power. These two bundles of joy, bear such grief to their mothers. These two bundles show the world that love wins. 

 

John, who is the unlikely bearer of good news, the one who from the wilderness, not the seats of power, announces the coming of the kingdom. Prepare, the world is about to change. You are about to change. That is the repentance that John calls us to. You see, waiting is not doing nothing. Waiting is about preparing for the surprise, waiting is about turning around and paying attention, waiting is about participating in the reality of God's kingdom, waiting is about the not yet that already is. Waiting is about being who God calls you to be, whether or not you know who that is yet. The repentance that John calls us to is a change of direction in mind and action. It is not about feeling bad or good or shameful. Repentance is being who God calls you to be, and who God calls us to be. And being who God calls us to be is what we do in the waiting, it is what we do in the preparing. And who God calls us to be may be surprising, indeed, if it is not surprising, it may not be God doing the calling.

 

So in this Advent waiting that is not doing nothing, we may hear God's voice surprising us. God's voice that says you are already loved, you can do nothing more or less to earn my love. Let go, give up control. Put up your tent, make camp right here. Enjoy what this is, right here, right now. The one next to you is also already loved, just as much as you are. Give her a smile, buy his coffee, make their day. 

 

So in this Advent waiting that is not doing nothing, we may hear God's voice surprising us. Take time to pray, to listen, to wonder, to invite God into this day, this circumstance, this ordinary stable in which we live. Give up the busyness, the worry, the noise, the stress. Be filled with the Love that is born in the mess of the stable, the Love that is born in your heart, the Love that is born here each time the one who is looking for something more finds their way to this table. Be filled with the Love that wins your time and attention, your pocketbook, your heart and your mind and your soul. 

 

And in this Advent waiting that is not doing nothing, in this in between time that is the now and not yet, remember Zechariah’s silence, remember Elizabeth’s surprise. In this Advent waiting that is not doing nothing, in this in between time that is the now and not yet, remember John’s call to turn around, listen, pay attention, prepare a place for Love to be born.

 

First Sunday of Advent Yr C November 28 2021

First Sunday of Advent Yr C November 28 2021

Jeremiah 33:14-16, 1 Thessalonians 3:9-13, Luke 21:25-36, Psalm 25:1-9

 

Endings look a lot like beginnings, and beginnings look a lot like endings. Today, we begin at the end. Next week we move to the beginning. But as today we begin at the end, it will serve us well to remember some things we need to know. In this passage we read today, Luke, who is writing this in the later part of the 1^st century, has Jesus telling the people who are listening three very important things. First, Jesus tells them about the destruction of the Temple, the place where God is located. Secondly, Jesus tells them about the destruction of the whole of Jerusalem, the city that is home. That destruction happened around 70. Thirdly, And Jesus tells them about the coming of the Son of Man. Those first two things, the destruction of the temple and the destruction of the whole of the city of Jerusalem are historical, that happened. The third thing, the coming of the Son of Man, is how Luke tells the disciples and us, about who Jesus is. 

 

What we are reading today is called apocalyptic literature. Now, that may seem a big, scary word, but it’s not really. Apocalyptic means revealing. In Jewish and Christian Apocalyptic, it means, God is being revealed. And God is being revealed in an absolutely new way, it is big, but not so scary. 

 

If you were a Jew at the time, it would be big and scary. Your place of worship, and your home, are destroyed by the Roman Empire. Everything you know to be true is gone, there is no stone left upon stone. The question asked in those times was, where is God located if not in the Temple? As you and I listen to the entire story, we know that God is now located in the flesh and blood of Jesus, that is incarnation, God with us, God in our midst, Emmanuel, all names for Jesus. And in this passage, Luke also calls Jesus the Son of Man. 

 

But it must have been like the beginning of the end of the world to them. Those who surrounded Jesus wonder what would happen next, what would their lives be like, would they even live to see the next day? This looked like the end. And the end seems scary. This seemed like God is no longer present. It seemed like chaos was overtaking order. 

 

And it seems like all those post-apocalyptic stories I love to read. As humans we are always searching for God, and our stories are filled with the possibility of an absent God, or an abandoning God, that’s what the people in Jerusalem were wondering, did God abandon them? What we are reading today is a post-apocalyptic story, as wild and fearful as any post-apocalyptic story written today. 

 

I think the question that we ask today is how do we boldly go where no one has gone before? Where is our hope after this storm, this destruction, this apocalypse of pandemic? To whom does the future belong? And as we embark upon Advent, how do we prepare, how do we anticipate the inbreaking of Jesus in the midst of the chaos that we may be feeling in these days? And how do we wait in faithful anticipation?

 

Part of waiting is in anticipation of what life will be like when the waiting is over. As we wait, we may have the opportunity to reflect on life as it is and possibly to come to appreciate the glimpses of the wonder and beauty of life as it is. Maybe, we begin to see life differently, more clearly. Maybe, all the things we thought were important aren’t so important anymore. Maybe, the falseness is being stripped away, and what is left is a truer person, a person who wants to plunge into every moment of life, no matter what, instead of sleepwalk through it. Maybe there is actually transformation in the waiting. At its deepest, Advent waiting transforms us. We are shown a glimpse of “what if.” What if we approach our Advent waiting as a radical time of transformation? 

 

The Good News is that Advent transformation isn’t born out of fear, fear of the end of the world, fear of war and destruction, fear of those who are different than us. Advent transformation comes from joy because the promise has already been given. Advent transformation comes from the hope that Love wins. For those with the eyes of faith, “what if” has already happened. God is already with us. The reign of God is at hand. Heaven is already here. And nothing will break God’s promise.

 

Our Advent waiting may then be about making the world look more like the heaven that we already see by faith. We do this by focusing on the essentials—the basic things every human needs in order to reflect the divine. The poor have to be cared for, the hungry have to be fed, the homeless have to be sheltered, the refugee has to be welcomed, and the sick need to be healed. Forgiveness has to be offered, those at war must stop, and peace must be our legacy.

 

It’s almost as if Advent calls us to faith in the Real Absence of Christ—to believe in Emmanuel even in our darkness, in God-With-Us even when we hear no answer, and in the Incarnation even when we feel nothing at all. And so during Advent waiting, we may abstain from the flurry of Christmas not as a penitential punishment, but as a way to train our eyes to see God even without the angels and trees, crèches and stars. We focus instead on the basics of light in the darkness, silence in the chaos, and stillness in the turmoil. Advent waiting is waiting for Love to be born, again.

 

The promise in all of this in Luke, in the midst of the distress in our scripture reading today, in the midst of the terror and chaos that the Jews of the 1^st century were experiencing, is that the end of times reality is that the end is not the end, our end is a person. The alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end. You see, Jesus is our end, our end is in the living Christ and the end is filled with new possibilities. And because you and I are living in this in between time, after Jesus was born into our world, after Jesus lived, died, resurrected from the dead and ascended, and before the fulfillment of all things, you and I are living in new possibility, new hope, new life.