December 14, 2014
Third Sunday in Advent
Rev. Amy Welin:
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances . . .
Today is the third Sunday in Advent. In the early church, today was called Gaudete Sunday – (Anglicans call it Rejoicing Sunday because we don’t use a lot of Latin). We are more than half way through the season of Advent, when we remember that God came into the world (advent means to “come into”). This Sunday is set apart for special rejoicing, because we know that the Lord is near. And so we light rose colored candles on Advent wreaths, and some priests put on rose colored vestments, as a visible sign of an invisible reality.
I confess that to me it feels a little awkward preaching Rejoice always in the shadow of world chaos and our memory of the Newtown atrocity. The invitation to rejoice, no matter the circumstances, feels somewhat inappropriate and disingenuous. Alas, on some days, it is not easy for us to celebrate the nearness of God.
There are ten days until Christmas eve. Is the tree decorated? Are your gifts all wrapped? Is your spiritual life in order? Are the in- laws/kids/pets/bills under control? Are your holiday memories all happy? Are we keeping the fun in dysfunctional?
Maybe not. Our lives may not transform into a greeting card picture this week or next.
But that does not mean that God is absent.
The spiritual question: Do we dare to risk exerting ourselves with gratitude and rejoicing in the presence of God, when our world is so fractured and so much remains to be done?
If we listen to today’s readings and take them seriously, the answer to all this question is an unequivocal “yes”. All our lections rejoice because God is near to us, even in the midst of worldly grief and imperfection and failing, and even in upheaval and conflict.
Isaiah proclaims that the spirit of the Lord is upon him, to bring good news to the broken-hearted who fear that they cannot go home again. John the Baptist and Jesus used this prophecy to illuminate their vocations. Even after an exile, under oppressive circumstances, God is willing to welcome home the sinner and the saint.
The Psalmist tells us that those who go to plant while weeping will reap with joy – reflecting both an agricultural reality of the first century (fear and anxiety of food insecurity) as well as a spiritual truth (blessings can seem to come out of nowhere). God’s promises of abundant life in the future will ultimately wipe away today’s tears and anxieties. In the meantime, we wait.
The conclusion of Paul’s letter to the people of Thessalonika encourages them to cling to the faith that Paul has taught them. Expecting Jesus to return virtually any moment, Paul instructs them to pray and to live blameless lives that are worthy of Christ. What is not evident from Paul’s uplifting tone is that he writes from the safety of refuge in another city. People who considered themselves religious and who were offended by his message have driven Paul out of Thessalonika. He has fled for his life. The little Christian community is at risk. At the time Paul wrote this letter, the success of his mission trip was questionable. And yet he rejoices because he has experienced grace and has shared it. His hope is in the faithfulness of Christ, not in human beings.
And then of course there is John the Baptist. In the eyes of his contemporaries, John was a failure. His own baptismal ministry is eclipsed by that of Jesus, and John is soon imprisoned and then executed by Herod. John sees his own diminishment clearly and still affirms that his joy is complete. He stands in the company and the shadow of Christ, the lesser of the two, and considers himself blessed because of the Holy One whose way he prepares.
What do you think we can do with all this biblical teaching as we scurry around getting ready for the holiday?
Where can we perceive the face of God right now?
As much as we may want to, we do not need a picture perfect holiday in order to find God. The gift of Christmas is going to unfold in our regular lives. Sometimes we just have to let go of our fantasy of perfection. Sometimes we even have to let go of our mental image of “normal” and create a new normal, with flaws and empty chairs.
The real story of Christmas was not at all like the greeting cards. I urge you to remember that the God who chose to come into the world was born as a baby in a stable. The baby’s mother was pregnant out of wedlock and his stepfather helped raise him. This God is not afraid to spend some time in our personal messiness or emptiness over the holidays. This is the Christ who spent his time with the poor and sick and outcast. This is the Christ who forgives our failings and who promises us heaven. We can look for God to be with us in human frailty and brokenness and to transform our lives into something divine. There is no shadow of our lives that can obscure the light of God’s desire to be among us.
We can see the face of God in unexpected moments of hope and healing. We cannot be passive as we watch for the light – we must be active and seek points of light and peace and rejoice when we find them. So keep your eyes open. Watch for an opportunity to be generous. Lean into instances of grace. Light a candle, literally or metaphorically. Hope for miracles and blessings. Be a miracle or a blessing. At the end of each day, pray for an awareness of God presence in the past 24 hours. Prepare to be amazed when you come to perceive it. Our work to feel and to share God’s love will overcome the powers of despair.
And still we wait.
With partially decorated trees, incomplete Christmas cards, and imperfect relationships.
We can recognize that we have been blessed.
We can trust that our God is here, offering us love and light.
Let the church say Amen.