Sunday, November 27, 2016

The First Sunday of Advent (Cycle A)

CHILD OF HOPE
Isaiah 2:1-5; Romans 13: 11-14; Matthew 24: 37-44 

The vestments are violet, the wreath has been blessed and the first candle lit. We’ve sung “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” and we’ve just heard familiar themes in our Scripture readings. Time has changed, a new liturgical year has begun, and, once again, we celebrate the season of Advent. We're beginning to prepare for Christmas. And outside the walls of this church, the world has been splashed in red and green, silver and gold. Santa has left the North Pole and came to town as the finale of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Holiday music and movies stream non-stop, and shoppers and stoves work overtime preparing delights for both the young and the young at heart. Yes, time has changed, a new season is upon us. We’re beginning to prepare for Christmas. 

There’s something about this time of year that puts us in a different frame of mind, a different kind of disposition. After the leaves have all fallen and the world has become more desolate and cold; after life has taken on a dreary cast and we, too, feel somewhat dreary after struggling through another year - suddenly there’s this season that's full of hope for a new beginning, for new life - a promise that life can be different, that there are new possibilities for life and for living. Not like the renewal of spring, when that which seems dead suddenly springs back to life - but a whole new world that comes into being, a magical world full of flying reindeer, elves, snowmen and Santa Claus. A world full of new possibilities, a place of great magic, a place where it seems anything could happen. We hear it in the carols, the poems, traditions and stories that surround the season.

And we see the babe of Bethlehem in that same light too - as the One who is our hope for this world and the next . . . the one who offers us new life, not in a place of magic and fantasy, but in the reality of his kingdom. Isn't that the stuff of which Christmas is really made? And Advent, this season we celebrate now, is its sign-post, pointing the way to Christmas, and to hope, to this new kingdom, this new world of possibility, this peaceable kingdom. This is a time of preparation and anticipation. Shopping, candy ribbons and Advent calendars, the special services and the lighting of the Advent wreath - all help us to prepare, all point us toward the hope of the Christmas child.

The readings today alert us to something great about to begin. The language is emphatic. Night is ending. Dawn is at hand. “Stay awake.” Put on “the armor of light.” And “let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord.” There’s a sense of anticipation – the kind we celebrate at every Eucharist, when we pray that we “wait in joyful hope for the coming of our savior, Jesus Christ.” Advent is that waiting, that moment of joyful hope, lived out across four weeks.

We symbolize that, and ritualize it, with the Advent wreath. We sing it in the haunting refrain, “O come, O come, Emanuel, and ransom captive Israel…” We are captives awaiting freedom, prisoners held in dungeons of despair. But light is coming. Freedom is coming. Jesus is coming. But until he comes, we wait, and watch, and wonder, and pray.

We shouldn’t rush it. Advent is the time for taking stock, and making plans – a season of great expectations. We are like parents today, who are expecting a new baby. We keep a light touch on this season's belly, feeling every movement of the hope about to be born to us. All the preparations are like the preparations of a parent awaiting their new child - the decorating, the parties, the checking off of the days on the calendar - so that we can feel the infant as it kicks and squirms, anticipating the day of its arrival among us.

God has sent us a Child of Hope. He has sent him to be our "Emmanuel," "God with us." It’s a wonderful and miraculous thing God has done. We need to be sure the incidentals don't crowd him out. The shopping, the baking, the carols and decorating - all of those things can be great ways of celebrating the miracle - but they are just the window-dressing on the season. If they become the focus, we will get to the end of the season, and wonder what happened - what happened to our hope? What happened to our Christmas child?

Jesus is coming soon. Our child of hope. The signs of his coming are already all around us. Not in the tinsel and glitter and merrymaking. Not in the lovely carols or beautifully-decorated houses. Not in any of these things at all. But in the very things that, Jesus says, seem to deny his coming and the hope of the season.

It will be as in the days of Noah, Jesus says. When things are "business as usual." Where some are partying and having a good time in the midst of those who are poor, hungry, desperate. When you see that happen, then you know the kingdom is near. When you see cruelty, disruption, discord, hatred and strife - then you know that Christmas is just around the corner. When people are hurting, lonely - when life seems out of control, when hope is denied - then you can be sure it is time for Christmas to appear. It's time for the kingdom to come. It's time for the promise to be given birth.

Because it is precisely at these times when the Child of Hope is most needed. In times and in places where hope is longed for, where his healing touch is most needed, where new possibilities need to be opened up for us. It's then that our hearts are open to receive him. It's then that we are ready to entertain new possibilities. It is then that we know that faith is the only way, and God is the only one who can change things. It is then that hope is born, and Christmas comes at last; just as it did two thousand years ago, when the world seemed dark and hopeless.

The promise and hope of Christmas comes when it is most needed. That’s why every moment of life - even when we feel furthest from Jesus - is a moment of hope and possibility - any moment he may come to us, if we are open, like Mary, and Joseph, and the shepherds, to receiving him.

The kingdom is waiting to break into your world this morning. The signs of it are everywhere. Be prepared. Be ready. Not just when the carols are playing. Not just when you feel Christmasy. But also, and especially, when the world seems dark to you and you feel far from your Father's home.

Jesus is coming soon - our Child of Hope. He will come on clouds of angels, to take us home. But he is already present now as well, and his kingdom is near to you. He wants to be born into this tired old world through the entry-way of your heart. Be waiting, be watchful, be ready for his arrival. This is not just another Sunday, another Season, and another day. Are you ready to encounter Jesus? Are you ready for the unexpected to change your life, alter your plans, and disrupt your direction? Let’s look forward to a Merry Christmas. But let’s also use this opportunity, as well, and prepare to receive him this season of Advent. Be still. Be aware. Be ready.

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Thanksgiving

Lord, how quickly the pages of the calendar have turned and another Thanksgiving Day is upon us. And so, as I pause and reflect, a mind full of memories rush to find expression as a heart full of gratitude wells up within me:

Thank you, Lord, for the splendor of your creation, for the beauty of the world around me . . . for green pastures and still waters and for tall trees that bow their heads prayerfully in the wind. I thank you for the colors with which you paint the seasons and for the passing of those seasons that has brought us to this day . . . for the snow glistened winter and the dogwood spring, for the watermelon summer and the russet and gold autumn.

Thank you, Lord, for this great land, for its bounty and its liberty, for the privilege of democracy and the gift of peace. Thank you for the goodness of our people and for the spirit of justice that fills this nation. I thank you today for the brave people of our land who are more interested in being right than in being popular, and for those who are willing to support a good cause publicly even though they know that cause may not succeed.

I offer you my thanks today for the gift of family . . . for all those who will gather around my Thanksgiving table, and for those who break bread at other tables this year. I thank you too for those who share with you in the heavenly banquet, those whom you have called home and into your embrace. Thank you for relieving their pain and suffering and thank you for all the memories that keep them alive in my mind and in my heart. 

I’m grateful, Lord, for friends who continue to be friends even after they have known me well . . . for those whose nods, winks, and smiles celebrated my joys and triumphs, and whose broad shoulders bore my burdens and lifted me with their compassion. Thank you for all those who have come into my life this year . . . for older people who have shared with me the wisdom of their yesterdays, and for the young whose enthusiasm and zest for life give me hope for tomorrow.

I’m thankful for the talents of others and for those who share them so generously with us, and for advances in technology and medicine that promise us a better day in the future. And I thank you for work which challenges the talents with which I have been blessed, and for weekends and holidays and holy days which refresh my spirit. For days of pomp and pageantry and parade, and for moments of quiet solitude, I thank you.

I give thanks to you today for the wonder of life, the mystery of love, and the gift of faith . . . for the sound of music that fills my soul, for the sound of laughter that lifts my spirit, and for the sound of crying that moves my heart with compassion.

I thank you for cloudy days which help me appreciate the sunshine; for tears which help me appreciate laughter; for pain which helps me appreciate health; for weakness through which I’ve discovered my strength; for sorrow, hurt, and loss through which I have discovered the depth of my own heart; and for failure which has led me to discover my dependence on you. 

I thank you for the Church, for its teaching which informs me, and for its saints that inspire me . . . for the priests, deacons, brothers and sisters who proclaim the gospel, not merely by word but through their tireless dedication to you and your people, and for my fellow parishioners who fold their hands in prayer on Sunday morning and who extend their hands in service and generosity throughout the week. 

But most of all Lord, I thank you for you! I thank you for simply being God and for loving me with a Father’s love . . . for sending your Son to us - for the example of his life and for the redemption that his death and resurrection has won . . . and for the gift of your Spirit, who guides me along the path which I pray someday will lead me home to you. 

For all of this Lord, I offer my thanks to you on this Thanksgiving Day.