Isaiah 11:1-10, Romans 15:4-13, Matthew 3:1-12, Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19
Today we light the candle of Peace. Our candle lighting prayers remind us that God’s peace is coming on earth as it already is in heaven. That is the promise of course, but sometimes it just doesn’t feel so peaceful.
This season we call Advent when we await the coming of the Christ child, and the secular world calls Christmas, is full of expectations. Lights on the house, the perfect Christmas tree, baking, apple pies, lefse, shopping, wrapping, and meaningful family time.
When I was a little girl, some of my siblings, and our mom, would go Christmas tree shopping. I actually don't have fond memories of that experience. We were expected to get a perfect Christmas tree, just the right height and width, a Norway pine, with the long needles, and a good, straight trunk, and not too expensive. It seemed to take hours, and I'd be so cold, frozen feet and hands. Finally we'd get the tree strapped to the top of the car, or stuffed into the back of the station wagon. We'd get our chosen tree home, let it thaw out in the garage, and finally get it into the house. Inevitably it was not right, too tall, too wide, too crooked. At least one of those trees fell right over, after it was fully decorated. It was hard to set all of those expectations of perfection aside, and take joy in the beauty of the tree.
We feel expectations put upon us during this season, by family and friends, we have our own expectations of what we should do, what we want to do, what we have time to do. And amid all these things we think we must do, I ask you to sit in the quiet and listen for the coming of Christ.
So this morning, I'd like you to call to mind your "to do" list. What do you think you need to get done in these three weeks before Christmas? Now, just set that list to the side for a few minutes and listen to what John and Jesus call us to in these readings this morning.
John, in Matthew's gospel, calls us to repentance. At the risk of laying on some guilt, which is what we seem to feel when we hear the word repent, and which I do not intend to do, I want to help you reframe that word and action. Repent simply is to turn. It is to change direction. Repent is reorientation, particularly, reorientation toward God. It’s like your mapping app in your car or on your mobile device, every wrong turn you take she says, recalculating. She is reorienting us as we make minor, or not so minor, deviations in our route. Repent may even be like confession and repair. So our opportunity in this season of Advent is to reorient ourselves to God, change direction, and repair broken relationships.
So now recall your to do list. Amid all that you feel you have to do, or that you want to do, or that you think people expect you to do, how may you turn, recalculate, or reorient yourself to God? I'm not saying that the items on your list are not worthwhile, but I am asking you to consider how you may make room in that list to embrace the holy pregnancy, the new life, of this Advent season.
The prophet Isaiah, has something to say about that new life. "A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots." Picture that stump. Stumps of trees that look like they are dead. But a branch shall grow out of the roots. There shall be new life, delicate and fragile, like a newborn baby. What if we believe this fragile sign is God’s beginning? Perhaps then we will tend the seedling in our hearts, the place where faith longs to break through the hardness of our disbelief. Do not wait for the tree to be full grown. God comes to us in this Advent time and invites us to turn, to reorient ourselves, to slow down and be quiet, to give room for the branch that emerges, ever so slowly and small, from the stump. We may want to sit on the stump for a while, and God will sit with us. But God will also keep nudging us: “Look! Look -- there on the stump. Do you see that green shoot growing?”
Turn around, reorient yourself to God this Advent season. See that green shoot growing. Watch the new life take shape. Keep awake as the light grows bright. Is it possible for you to look at your list of everything you need to get done, and day dream about what you hope Christmas will be like. What kind of Christmas do you want to have? More than that, what kind of relationships do you want to be a part of? Even more, what kind of world do you want to live in this Christmas and beyond? The world is about to turn.
The prophet Isaiah is all about hope, change, turning toward God. "The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them." Our hopes, after all, surely aren’t limited to our immediate wants and needs but reach out to include our larger families, communities, and world. That is what repentance and repair are also about. What needs repairing?
So maybe Advent is about leaving our familiar and well-trodden path, making a turn, maybe venturing out on another way. Maybe Advent is about trying something different this time, something that gives us a sense of the grace and glory of God, the babe in Bethlehem, the Word made flesh. Advent is a time to turn toward God, a time to reorient ourselves to the holiness of the birth of this baby, the birth of love, the birth of change.
And as John alludes to in the gospel this day, turning toward God, reorientation and even repair, will bear good fruit. It will bear the fruit of compassion, and we will be free to give our time to others. It will bear the fruit of mercy, and we will be free to give our love to others. It will bear the fruit of justice, and we will be free to give food and shelter to others. And maybe we even work toward a time when there is no longer a need to provide food and shelter, because there are no longer any hungry or cold people in our towns. The world is about to turn, but we need to be part of the turning toward mercy, compassion, and justice. So what if our Advent expectations were about turning toward justice, turning toward compassion, turning toward mercy. I still believe we change the world, one person, one phone call, one kind act at a time. Gandhi once said, be the change you wish to see in the world. The world is about to turn, we need to lead the turning toward compassion, and mercy, and justice and peace.
I leave you today with a poem, by Madeleine L’engle.
He did not wait till the world was ready,
till men and nations were at peace.
He came when the Heavens were unsteady,
and prisoners cried out for release.
He did not wait for the perfect time.
He came when the need was deep and great.
He dined with sinners in all their grime,
turned water into wine.
He did not wait till hearts were pure.
In joy he came to a tarnished world of sin and doubt.
To a world like ours, of anguished shame
he came, and his Light would not go out.
He came to a world which did not mesh,
to heal its tangles, shield its scorn.
In the mystery of the Word made Flesh
the Maker of the stars was born.
We cannot wait till the world is sane
to raise our songs with joyful voice,
for to share our grief, to touch our pain,
He came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice
Amen.
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