Advent: God is Waiting, Too

Sermon – Church of St. Luke and the Epiphany

ADVENT 2A – Mt. 3:1-11: “Advent: God is Waiting,Too”

Lisa Helmel Thomas, M.Div.

Blessed be the holy Trinity, one God, the Parent who rouses us from slumber, the Shepherd who gathers us on the holy mountain, the Deliverer who sets us free. Amen.

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Advent. Probably my favorite season of the church year. As I get older, Lent rivals a close second, as my appreciation for the parallels between these two seasons increases.  The waiting. The attempts at suspending time just a little, within the finite bounds of our human framework. What sets Advent apart from Lent a bit is this sense of HOPE. “Open our eyes,”we pray. Hope-filled dreams have a way of shaping what we are able to see. They are like lenses that train us to interpret and to act in the present....

“In those days,” the lesson says, and so begins a dream not just about what is, but about what might be if God’s reign might indeed be drawing near. Such dreaming has already been there earlier in the story when Joseph, our first character in Matthew’s narrative, is called to imagine what righteousness will look like in the light of God’s promise (Mt. 1:18-25 — Advent 3):

““Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit......She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the LORD through the prophet: 23 “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,”

To know that promises will be kept is a way that hope is shaped.  In John the Baptist we see the beginnings of that hope.

And isnt it interesting that LAST week, Advent began with the END of Matthew’s Gospel, not Chapter one. Today, Advent 2, we are in Matthew 3, and Joseph’s promised hope you just heard won’t be read until next week. God’s time. Kairos time. It isn’t necessarily linear.

I’ve always been fascinated by KAIROS TIME and LIMINAL SPACE.  “Kairos” in Greek means “the right, critical, and opportune kind of moment,” while the opposite of kairos is “chronos “ - linear, chronological, measured time.  Kairos is the opportune moment, the right time for action.

So we always have this sort of tension between kairos and chronos. Then there is liminal space, where we find ourselves in Advent.  Liminal space is the time between the 'what was' and the 'next. ' It is a place of transition, a season of waiting, and not knowing. Liminal space is where all transformation takes place, if we learn to wait and let it form us. It is into this kind of time-warp, if you will, that John the Baptist steps in.

Here is this guy, dressed like a Bedouin — a coat of camel’s hair with a belt tied around his waist — looking not unlike the prophet Elijah, eating locusts and wild honey, crying from the margins, “Repent! For the Kingdom of Heaven has come near. This is it!” The peripheral prophet, who today might be categorized as some sort of liberal evangelical.

WHAT is it? Who IS this guy?

In the meantime, the world is centered in the big city.,it is the time of Herod Antipas, a client of the oppressive Roman Empire.  The power of the current regime was concentrated in places like temples,buildings, bureaucracies, and tax collectors.

In stark contrast, John the Baptist stood at the margins. The MARGINS can come to the center, but the center could not go out to the margins.  When we read “Then the ppl of Jerusalem and ALL Judea were going out to John, and ALL the region of Jordan, and they were baptized...confessing their sins.”  “ALL” is actually hyperbole, but its effect is to emphasize John’s influence. Here was this man from the wilderness having an impact on the city. He is not only paving the way, but leading Israel through another time of transition.  No less than MOSES or Samuel, John the Baptist is a bridge between eras in Israel’s history.

Then there is this matter of repentance.  The kingdom is near, yet repentance has something to do with preparing the way for Gods entry into our lives. The CALL for repentance signals that there is something wrong and  a need for change.  Gods power is present but not unrelated to what we do. Ultimately, it directs our vision not so much to sorrow for the past,  but to look to the promise of a new beginning.

But wait. Doesn’t this call to “Repent!” reek of judgment? EVEN NOW, John says, “the ax is lying at the root of the trees, every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.” Yikes. 

Judgement. It brings to mind texts we wrestle with. What about the divorced spouse? The queer teen who is looking for an appropriate church or youth group? That person in Bible Study who was taught about the inerrancy of scripture and is now trying to reconcile it with their current situation?  How can they not feel judged? Are they unrepentant?  The wheat. the threshing floor, and again, the fire.  And John does say he is baptizing with water now (human), but the One who is more powerful that comes after him will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

Powerful words here. Words that clearly tell us that there is more to Advent than just sitting around waiting. Matthew makes it clear that the Kingdom of God brings about a fundamental break from the past.  Our preparation here is not primarily self-purification, but rather, that purification and redemption takes place by way of a RADICAL TRUST. A trust that Christ Himself is working to purify us and the world around us to become ‘a dwelling place fit for the Lord.’

As the Church, our rediscovery of Advent will come in small steps - as we learn the difference between Advent hymns and Christmas carols, recover ancient practices such as praying the daily lectionary, things like music, holiday lights, presents, that prepare us for Christmas joy and feasting when they finally arrive. All these things  are marked by a steady confidence that God’s Kingdom is indeed at hand.

So Gods judgement is essentially related to Gods promise— the old is passing away, in Christ the new has come. That FIRE represents both judgment AND hope.

If God loves us enough to welcome us into Christ’s family, then God loves us enough to expect something of US this Advent. — repentance in the form of radical trust.

This Advent tension remains — between kairos and chronos, repentance and judgement, the margins and power, and finally, nostalgia and memory.

Nostalgia says that Advent is all about looking back and feeling good and what used to be., but Advent tells us it is all about looking ahead. We pray/preach/teach “waiting expectantly for what is to come.”

Nostalgia is memory filtered through disproportionate emotion.  When memory is filtered through gratitude, faith begins, which leads to hope.  The ghosts who made Scrooge look back before he could look ahead had a point. Yes, we look forward only by looking back, but we do it with renewed gratitude.

Perhaps for Advent we can give up on nostalgia, but we cannot give up on memory after all, for it is in looking back with thankful hearts that our vision clears up enough to see what lies ahead.

One December afternoon … a group of parents stood in the lobby of a nursery school waiting to claim their children after the last pre-Christmas class session. As the youngsters ran from their lockers, each one carried in his hands the “surprise,” the brightly wrapped package on which he had been working diligently for weeks. One small boy, trying to run, put on his coat, and wave to his parents, all at the same time, slipped and fell. The “surprise” flew from his grasp, landed on the floor and broke with an obvious ceramic crash. The child … began to cry inconsolably. His father, trying to minimize the incident and comfort the boy, patted his head and murmured, “Now, that’s all right son. It doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t matter at all.” But the child’s mother, somewhat wiser in this situation, swept the boy into her arms and said, “Oh, but it does matter. It matters a great deal.” And she wept with her son.

It does matter. Our Advent worship, Advent hymns, Advent expectations, and Advent comforts require the reminder that John the Baptist makes so clear. It does matter. We do matter. Perhaps the church can give up on judgment, but we cannot give up on responsibility.  

  David L. Bartlett - “It  is an exercise in false piety to come to the manger without remembering the cross.”

Lion-lamb, past-future, judgement-Redemption, death-rebirth, water-fire, Kairos-chronos....There is a LOT going on here. It looks about as busy and conflicted as the material world all around us these days. But if you burn it all away, the takeaways are trust and gratitude — our tools for repentance.  Repentance that leads to hope. Hope that will bring forth the Kingdom.  As our “stuff” decreases, God and his Kingdom will increase.

As we wait, let us remember that God is also waiting.  How shall we meet him? Amen.

A FEAT OF LOVE

“A Feat of Love” - Sermon from March 24, 2019 - St. Paul’s Glenside

"BY ANOTHER ROAD"

"By Another Road"

First Sunday of Epiphany, January 6, 2019

LISTEN

I love to travel, even though I have a horrible sense of direction. I have always been fascinated by maps, and now, GPS.  One of the things that amazes me is that we can sometimes get to the same destination using a number of different paths. Few places fit this description more aptly than this very town of Glenside.  Without knowing exactly how, I have discovered that there are at least a half dozen different ways to get to St. Paul’s from our home in Northeast Philadelphia.  I learned this one night in October, just before Halloween. Some of you may have your own stories about that night.

It was late afternoon on a Thursday, Kids’ Choir night. My son Noah and I headed down Glenside Avenue toward the church cutting it close and as usual, not leaving ourselves adequate time for our commute. Just as we approached Easton Road, we encountered walls of people and the street turned into a parking lot.  Traffic was at a standstill.  Unbeknownst to me, the Food Truck Festival, originally scheduled for October 11,  was rained out, so it took place a week later.  Long story short, it took us another 40 minutes to go up and around on one of the side streets, all the way over to Limekiln and Mt. Carmel, circling back to St. Paul’s the long way.  We finally arrived about 15 minutes late for Noah’s rehearsal.  I met another mom in the hallway and no words were needed to comprehend the frustration on our faces.  She broke the tension, saying, “What on earth is up with that traffic? I uttered some very UN-Christian words on the road just now!”  Didn’t we all!

Since there was no other way, we took the long way home, too, by turning right instead of left onto Mt. Carmel.  But we still got there - eventually.  And we learned a thing or two.  Things we wouldn’t have learned if it hadn’t been for that Food Truck Festival. Who knew?  It was an “Aha! moment.”  The light turned on.

Revelation. That’s what the word “Epiphany” literally means.  “Revelation,” God with us, revealed to us.   It is the twelfth day of Christmas, traditionally the day three sages followed the star to Bethlehem to visit the Christ Child and present him with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh 

This is also the day that many get their homes blessed. You see it a little more in Germany or around Europe — Doorways of homes are marked in chalk:  C+M+B 2019.  Those are the names of the t
Magi — Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar — and the year 2019, with which a priest would enter the home, say a prayer to bless it, and write the initials of the kings along with the numerals of the current new year.

Epiphany happened to me as I was reading the Gospel lesson this week.  I read about those Magi, and as usual, was taken in by their grandeur.  I pictured jewel-toned robes, camels, precious stones, gold, and incense.  Great stuff.  But what more could I say about them?  I have more questions than answers. Were those their real names?  They don’t have names in the Bible.  So where did the names  come from? Who were they, exactly?  Astrologers?  Magi?  Did they really exist?  Were they really kings, or just sages?  

The Bible refers to them as “wise men from the East.” There is no proof that they were actually kings, as it is not stated in the scriptures as such.  It’s another reason why “We Three Kings” no longer appears in our latest hymnal.  It may not be biblical history, but is certainly filled with legend.

In Matthew’s account, we do know that Herod summoned these three sages (I will call them sages or Magi or wise men) and asked them to find this King of the Jews that, according to prophecy and the stars, was to have been born recently.

Herod knew that Bethlehem would be the place where this king would be born because ot was written in the Hebrew scriptures by the prophet Micah, which we read a few weeks back.  It turns out that when you search the Bible for the word “Bethlehem,” up pop almost countless references, most in the Old Testament. Based on this knowledge, and motivated by fear, Herod sends for these three Magi and learns of the exact time when the star had appeared.  You see, these wise men had been observing this star since its rising. Isaiah actually ties together our two other readings by saying, “And the Gentiles will come to your light, and Kings to the brightness of your rising.”   Having traveled through the prophecies of the Advent season, we have learned that things don’t always turn out according to HUMAN plan.  That is also the “Mystery of Christ” that the Apostle Paul talks about in his letter to the Ephesians — that Christ will come to ALL people and nations.  This is something nobody expected would happen.

“And having been warned in a dream no to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.”

“By another road.”  HERE is the verse that I would typically zone out on for most of my life.  That is, until I read it again and again — so much so, that this jumped out at me this time. I had my own Ephiphany-revelation as I pondered “by another road.”

The three wise men did not go home the same way they came. They were transformed by seeing the Christ Child. It says earlier in the reading that when they saw that the star had stopped, they were filled with JOY.  And they would never be the same again.  They knew they couldn’t go back to Herod.   King Herod sent the Magi out, motivated by fear and anger.  Filled with Joy upon seeing the Christ Child, they were transformed.  If they went back the same way, there would be trouble with Herod, and at the very least they would hit the same roadblocks again.  So they took another road. They were called back to their own country and never turned back to Herod.

We, too, face unexpected roadblocks in life.

What are some of the ways we can face them?  By trusting Jesus, who leads us through them.   By praying to be open to the ways of the Spirit, by following a new kind of light.  Yet they only seem like roadblocks until we look and listen to God’s revealing power, the “God WITH US” power demonstrated in the Epiphany.  

Throughout Advent and Christmas, we lit candles in the darkness.  It is always amazing to me how a single candle can completely change a darkened room, offering a special kind of light that reminds us of the sacred and gives us focus.  It is enclosed, protected.  When we have more than one candle, we generate light as a community and suddenly there is literally more warmth in the room, which those of you who were here at Christmas can attest to as we sang together “Silent Night.”  It was a very special moment.

Now that Christmas is winding down and the Light has come into the world, it shines even brighter. Instead of a candle, though, it’s now an “Aha!’ moment, when the light bulb suddenly turns on and we see a whole lot more than we thought there was.

Revelation can be a challenge. At times we see more than we want or expect  - a medical problem, a challenging relationship, a job loss.…  the list goes on. What do we do when forces beyond our control divert us from the path we thought we were meant to be on?

We may be called to take another direction, even at a moment’s notice. It requires faith to go down another road, but God gives it to us in abundance.  Taking that first step, that first turn in faith is often all we need.   In this imperfect world, we don’t need to wait for the stars to be perfectly aligned for this transformation.  Only a simple kernel of faith.

Listen to the words of a Christmas poem by Madeleine L’ Engle, entitled “First Coming -“

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!

What comfort, what assurance there is in knowing that Jesus is our guiding Star on that road.  He is our hope.  We are never alone, even though we may often feel that way. Look up. God is here.  Follow that Star!  For THIS particular Star is different. Unlike a typical star that generates its own light, this Star reflects the light of the Son — the Son of God.  He is here for us, for you and for me. AMEN.

THE BETHLEHEM CONNECTION

"The Bethlehem Connection"

Advent 4, December 23, 2018

LISTEN

I would like for all of us to just take a moment to stop. And breathe.  Not so much because of the obvious stress surrounding this season, or the fact that it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow, but just to first take a breath, think about where that breath is coming from and Whose it ultimately is in the first place.  Breathe in the space around you, take in what is new - those things you did not see, hear or feel last week. Take it all in.  Then breathe out, breathe out your concerns, your prayers, your anxiety.  Breathe out joy as well.
When we breathe, it’s not just the air that changes. We are not only renewed and refreshed, but by the grace of God, we sustain our very lives. We remember the Source of this breath. Our very breaths right here, right now, are directly connected to the first breath — the RUACH - that God breathed into Adam.
Tomorrow night, we celebrate Jesus’ first breath on this earth.  We celebrate something very glorious — the Incarnation — God coming down TO US, FOR US - in the form of a living, breathing, human being.  At his first cry, Jesus begins to breathe WITH US. He begins to live among us.
Jesus’ first cry was the first embodied song of hope on this planet. There were prophets before him who diligently did the work to prepare us for this moment, yet we never knew exactly how it would be until his arrival. Jesus’ first cry was the first incarnate song of hope — and this morning I’d like to share several other songs that lead up to that holy moment.
Mary had recently had the encounter with the angel Gabriel, who had told her that the Spirit of God would come upon her and she would give birth to a baby boy and he will be called the Son of God.  I think what really helped convince Mary was Gabriel’s first words, “Do not be afraid, Mary.”  I will always hear those words read by a certain woman in our congregation who would intone them just right… she said, “Don’ be afraid, Mary” with such a beautiful lilt in her voice that I’ll never forget it. I imagine that Mary must have been comforted in a similar way as this angel reassured her, ‘you have found favor with God.”  But what really clicked for her must have been the story of Elizabeth herself — and this is what made her run to the hills of Judea to go and find her sister.  Gabriel told her, “See?  Your relative Elizabeth has conceived a son in her old age, and she’s in her 6th month already…and she was said to have been barren.  For NOTHING WILL BE IMPOSSIBLE WITH GOD.”
Mary was probably feeling isolated in her own way.  The gossip, the scoffing, the wagging tongues and pointing fingers. Perhaps her sense of isolation is best expressed in a song that came out fairly recently, Amy Grant’s “Breath of Heaven:”  I imagine her singing this as she travels to Elizabeth’s house in the Judean hills, talking to herself and God, reflecting on what the angel just said to her -

I have traveled many moonless nights
Cold and weary with a babe inside
And I wonder what I've done
Holy father you have come
And chosen me now to carry your son

I am waiting in a silent prayer
I am frightened by the load I bear
In a world as cold as stone
Must I walk this path alone?
Be with me now

Do you wonder as you watch my face
If a wiser one should have had my place
But I offer all I am
For the mercy of your plan
Help me be strong
Help me be
Help me

Breath of heaven
Hold me together
Be forever near me
Breath of heaven

Breath of heaven
Lighten my darkness
Pour over me your holiness
For you are holy
Breath of heaven
(knock-knock-knock). Mary is finally here, at Elizabeth’s house.  “Hello?!” she calls. Elizabeth is thrilled to see her.  “Come on in!” she cries — and HER song becomes “Ave Maria” — “Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb.”  Elizabeth was thrilled to hear Mary’s voice, greeting her as she entered her house.
Suddenly Mary felt connected  to someone else again. And she spent some time with her sister, who, at 6 months shared a “kick story.”  There are, perhaps, fewer things more thrilling as a pregnancy progresses than being able to feel a baby move. And this particular baby, John the Baptist, Elizabeth tells us, leapt in her womb as his mother greeted Mary.  Suddenly not only the two mothers intersected, but the cousins did as well.  Yes, there were still a few months left to go for Elizabeth, and of course 9 months for Mary.  They still had to keep waiting, expecting.  But now they were connected.
This season at St. Paul’s, at least since I’ve been here, we have all shared concerns and celebrations. Some of us have gone off to college for the first time, some of us have had to cope with unexpected diagnoses, some more of us are recovering from surgery, and several have lost loved ones. We have had ups and downs in our studies, our work situations, our relationships.  We may have been injured physically or emotionally.
Advent can be a profound time of growth and waiting. But we can sometimes feel isolated. Over the next few days, we will potentially encounter a huge amount of people coming through these doors.  Some of them we may not have seen in years, some come in once or twice a year, but there they are.  For a very short space in time.  How can they touch our lives. and how can we touch theirs, just by sitting side by side in the pews?
Well, as we speak of connections just within our four walls, we can start with last Sunday. Three of our own St. Paul's Youth — Catherine, Caelin, and Carson — along with my husband, sang a beautiful concert with the Commonwealth Youthchoirs at the Church of the Holy Trinity on Rittenhouse Square.  Now, if you recall this church at all, you know that it’s been around for a long time - at least a couple hundred years.  Our performers will tell you this is true because there are very few bathrooms there.
This church itself, however, is notable for something else. The Church of the Holy Trinity on Rittenhouse Square was a site that made music history 150 years ago — not quite as old as “Silent Night,” but it seems appropriate to note that we have our own “Silent Night” story right here in Philadelphia.
In 1863, Phillips Brooks, an Episcopal priest, then rector of Church of the Holy Trinity, Philadelphia, was inspired by visiting the village of Bethlehem in Jerusalem. Three years later, he wrote the poem for his church, and his organist Lewis Redner (1831-1908) added the music.
Lewis Redner describes it this way “As Christmas of 1868 approached, Mr. Brooks told me that he had written a simple little carol for the Christmas Sunday-school service, and he asked me to write the tune to it. The simple music was written in great haste and under great pressure. We were to practice it on the following Sunday. Mr. Brooks came to me on Friday, and said, ‘Redner, have you ground out that music yet to "O Little Town of Bethlehem"? I replied, 'No,' but that he should have it by Sunday. On the Saturday night previous my brain was all confused about the tune. I thought more about my Sunday-school lesson than I did about the music. But I was roused from sleep late in the night hearing an angel-strain whispering in my ear, and seizing a piece of music paper I jotted down the treble of the tune as we now have it, and on Sunday morning before going to church I filled in the harmony. Neither Mr. Brooks nor I ever thought the carol or the music to it would live beyond that Christmas of 1868. Rev. Brooks, a formidable  man standing at 6 feet 4 inches tall and went on to become one of the great preachers of the 19th century.  Please join me in singing the first verse of O Little Town of Bethlehem (found in ELW 279):

O little town of Bethlehem, how STILL we see thee lie,
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by.
Yet, in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting light
The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight.

“But you, Bethlehem Ephrata…” says the prophet Micah, speaking of that little town of which we just sang.  “one of the little clans of Judah.”  Bethlehem - or “bet-lechem” means “house of bread” in Hebrew. Just a coincidence? I don’t think so.  The Bread of life, the Word made Flesh.  The Son of God now come to earth, the living bread we share each week through the very body and blood of Jesus Christ our Savior.  That little town with such great promise.
Upon accepting her mission with the words, “Let it be according to your word,” Mary joined ranks of many prophetesses before her, all with distinct songs to sing — Miriam, Moses’ sister, who danced and sang in triumph in the book of Exodus after the Israelites had crossed the Red Sea,; Hannah, singing as she learns she is expecting a the child Samuel, for whom she had proved so fervently, and finally Zechariah, when he was given his voice back — all speaking of justice for the oppressed, raising up the poor from the dust, the Lord opens up the eyes of the blind, those who are bowed down, the orphan, the widow, God makes them to sit in the place of honor.
Yes, Miriam, Hannah, Elizabeth, Zechariah, and Mary and Zechariah, were able to speak this way because they were filled with a certain hope.  Despite the things going on around them, despite the odds of their contexts, their level of hope and trust in the future was high.
Like the prophet Micah today,  the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, in his speech, “Where do we go from Here?”  says that “the arc of the universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”  That is hope.
As we look toward the coming of Christ once again this season, and daily in our own lives - we become filled with hope. That hope heard round the world awaiting Jesus’ first breath, the Breath of Heaven - that first cry giving voice to an everlasting radical love for you and for me — a love that widens our circle, connecting and making room enough for everyone.  AMEN