Launching Forth

 

Mathew 3:13-17

Epiphany 1 / Year A

Recent studies reveal these are the top five career choices today’s kindergarteners dream of having when they grow up: Astronaut, Teacher, Doctor, Firefighter, and Veterinarian.  I am pleased to learn this because it suggests small children still dream big dreams – exploring outer space – and want to help other people or creatures.  I am very pleased to find nowhere on this list software developer, hedge fund manager, or (worst of all) social media influencer.

There is no record to indicate what five-year-old Jesus dreamed of doing with his life.  We can only speculate how much his parents shared with him about the details of his birth.  Did they remind him constantly that he was going to be a king and savior or did they keep this angelic message private – after all, how do you enforce a bedtime with a child who constantly reminds you one day he is going to be the ruler of all creation? 

Not only do we have scant information about what Jesus was told, we know little of what he sensed about himself.  Other than staying behind in the Temple as a 12-year-old and amazing the teachers there with his knowledge, we don’t know if he was good at sports, preferred reading over math, liked to draw, or played a musical instrument.  He must have had something stirring deep within which he struggled to understand; just as we all have to walk a mysterious (and sometimes torturous) path through adolescence to figure out what we enjoy, what we are good at, what we value, what we believe… essentially discovering who we are and then discerning what we want to do with our life.

Given he was God’s only begotten Son, Jesus had one more layer of identity to sort through... his divinity.  From what we know, Jesus works at least fifteen years as a carpenter or perhaps a stone mason; today we would say he was in construction.  He is educated, can read, is fluent in the Hebrew Scriptures, is well-known and positively regarded throughout the small community in which he is raised.  He is the oldest of at least five siblings.  It is fair to say it takes him three decades to discover his true calling, his mission, his purpose.

Theologians ponder this process using the term “God Consciousness.”  This notion explores a basic question: How does Jesus come to know who he is and when does it crystalize for him?  While there is much scholarly debate about this, one thing is clear: When he rises from the baptismal waters of the Jordon River it all falls into place.  This moment thrusts him into his life’s call. 

We preachers throw around the word ‘calling’ a lot.  I’d wager it makes its way into a sermon on average once a month.  You may be interested to know if by calling, we mean a clear, direct, unmistakable instruction from God, only about a hundred or so people in the entire bible are commissioned in this way.  Moses, Jeremiah, Amos, and Paul might be the most prominent examples.  For most people, then and now, a ‘calling’ comes about in ways significantly less dramatic and much more banal.   

Reflecting on my own journey, I don’t ever remember having a specific vocational dream as a child.  If you had asked kindergarten Keith what he wanted to grow up to be the answer would have been a question mark.  As a middle schooler who admired my youth pastor, I began to see myself as an ordained minister.  I enrolled in college as a religion major and became deeply involved as a leader in Youth Life, an outreach ministry to highschoolers.  By the time I graduated, however, I was not so sure about pursing ordination and had no real sense of what I wanted to do in life. 

I guess I would say God was not done with me yet.  I found myself attending an Episcopal Church, working part-time on the staff as a lay person, and falling in love with the Anglican tradition.  After a year, the rector told me I needed to go to seminary and figure out what God was calling me to do.  And so I went.  At some point in my final year, the chaplain at the school said to me, “Keith, it is easy for God to get people like me and you into the priesthood because we don’t have any other options!”  I realized he said this not because I didn’t have the aptitude to do anything else, rather it was the only thing I had a heart for.  This is the first time I remember truly being ‘called.’ 

Little in my story is wonderous.  God never spoke directly to me.  It came through the example of one person, the encouragement of another, and the affirmation of still another.

Most of us here this morning are near to completing our life’s work or have retried from it.  But, I wonder, if like me, you can discern in the pattern of Jesus’ journey how your own mirrors it.  Early on you had an inkling or two.  At some point, perhaps over time or maybe at a specific moment, it all came into focus.  Once launched, you went through something like Jesus did when, after his baptism, he entered the wilderness to be tempted; a period early on when your training and skill was tested and honed by the reality of the real world.  From this experience you went forth fully prepared to make your mark.  Yes, there might have been some ups and downs – there certainly were for Jesus – but for the bulk of living into your calling you accomplished much which contributed in some way to the common good.  Then, in certain aspects, your retirement was a kind of Golgotha, a death.  And yet on the other side you experienced resurrection; a rebirth into a new life with new opportunities and new purposes. 

If I was a college chaplain preaching to a congregation of students, this sermon would focus more keenly on the moment of baptism, the moment of launching forth.  But most of us here this morning are well past that time.  So, I encourage you to think about resurrection, about what comes next after you wrap up your life’s main calling.  Have you experienced rebirth?  Have you found or fallen into what comes next?  I hope so, but if not, I encourage you to go back to your kindergarten dreaming self.  What inking do you have?  What stirs within you?  You may be done with your life’s work, but you are far from used up!  God has a new dream for you.  Can you see it?  Have you embraced it?  It is where life in all its fulness waits for you.

A Vulnerable Child

 

Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23

Christmas 2 / Year A

Recent survey results detail parent’s concerns about the health of their children, ages 1-18.  69% believe the overall physical health of this age group is getting worse.  An alarming 83% believe their mental health is in decline.  Here are their top ten concerns: 

·       Social media

·       Too much screen time

·       Internet safety

·       Unhealthy diet

·       Mental health

·       Cost of healthcare/insurance

·       Obesity

·       Smoking / vaping

·       Bullying

·       School Violence

Over half of all respondents cited these as worries.  Other factors parents regard as contributing to decline include lack of physical activity, guns, abductions/sex trafficking, poverty, child abuse/neglect, teen pregnancy, discrimination, and the poor quality of food, air, and water.  It is a sobering list to be sure. 

I suspect if you survey any country in our world today or any culture of any era of time, the results will reveal at least one consistent, common thing: Parenting and anxiety go hand in hand.  Fear for the survival of our offspring is forged into our evolutionary DNA.  We of the Christian faith also hold it is part of our spiritual heritage because we are created in the image of God, who, as Jesus teaches, is like a parent who frets for his prodigal child.

From this morning’s gospel reading we learn Joseph and Mary share our parenting anxieties.  We learn reports from shepherds of angelic songs and the adoration of eastern magi do not shield the infant Jesus from the threat of harm.  If anything, the child’s identity as the King of the Jews exposes him to a danger most parents do not have to consider (Thankfully, in 2026 America, political execution is not a top parental worry). 

I spent some time this week pondering why God’s Son became incarnate so vulnerably at a place and in a time putting him at so much risk.  My mediating led me in two directions.

The first, which the beginning of my sermon hints at, is this: Children are always at risk.  There is no time and no place when and where it is not so.  Yes, some times are more perilous than others… accidents more prevalent, physical threats more intense, medical crises more common or less treatable, and societal pressures more insidious… but never has there existed (nor will there ever be) a time when a child can be born into and raised up in an impenetrable, protective bubble.  Like every child, the infant Jesus was at risk.  Like all parents, Joseph and Mary were anxious.

This is one direction I contemplated.  Here is the other: The Word of God became flesh at a vulnerable time and place because the word of God, as it goes forth, is always vulnerable.  It is always open to misinterpretation.  It is always open to corruption.  It is always open to abuse.  You don’t need to be a student of history to know the teachings of Jesus, and the bible as a whole, have brought great wisdom and insight into the world.  Nor do you need to be a historian to know much evil has been done in the name of Christianity.  God’s word is vulnerable.

One way we see this vulnerability being exploited is through a movement in our country identified as “Christian Nationalism.”  In an article in Christianity Today, Georgetown professor Paul D. Miller makes some helpful insights and distinctions:

·       Patriotism is about love of country.

·       Nationalism is an argument about how to define a country.  It begins with the belief nations should be organized around a specific group who has in common such shared traits as language, religion, ethnicity, and culture.  It seeks to determine who is in and who is out based on certain criteria.  And it asserts the job of the government is to impose these standards to promote and protect the nation’s cultural identity.  History suggests nationalistic governments tend to become authoritarian and oppressive.

·       Christian Nationalism “is the belief that the American nation is defined by Christianity, and that the government should take active steps to keep it that way.”  It is not to be confused with Patriotism because you can love our country without being a Nationalist or a Christian, just as you can be a follower of Christ and Christ’s teaching without asserting the United States is (or should be) a Christian nation.

The website Contemporary Anabaptist is one of many critics of Christian Nationalism.  Here is a summary of how it believes this political ideology differs from historical, orthodox Christianity:

·       It focuses on power over spiritual integrity.

·       It advocates exclusionary practices whereas Jesus taught and exhibited radical inclusion.

·       It perverts love of Nation into idolatry.

·       It misrepresents some of Jesus’ teachings while completely ignoring others.

So, after all my musings about today’s reading, let me say two things.  First, I understand every parent’s felt need to be vigilant in their duty of protecting their children.  Are you more anxious about this than you need to be?  I hope you come away from this sermon pondering this.  Second, I also hope you will leave here more aware of how vulnerable God’s will and word is in our world today.  I hope you will contemplate how you can live more faithfully into its calling and discern ways to resist, undermine, and protest its abuse.

What Make You You?

 

The Eve of the Nativity

Not too long ago I read a little book about John Howland and Elizabeth Tilley, two passengers on The Mayflower.  John came over as an indentured servant but was freed because his sponsors didn’t survive the first winter.  Elizabeth was left orphaned as a teen when no one else in her family made it through to spring.  Eventually John and Tilley married, which is not at all surprising given only 50 some folk survived the early challenges. 

Why did I read this book?  Two reasons.  First, these two are my 10^th great-grandparents.  I maintain each of us is a descendant of a lot of interesting, perhaps even historic figures, but are unaware of our lineage.  And second, John nearly died in route to America.  Seems there was a terrible storm in the North Atlantic and the passengers were confined to below decks – a miserable experience in a dank, leaky, stinky, reeling vessel.  So John decided to go up on deck for some fresh air where a wave swept over The Mayflower and washed him into the frigid, raging waters.  By an act of providence, he was able to grab hold of a rope trailing from the ship, gain the attention of the crew, and get pulled back to safety.  So, I have this in my DNA! 

Reading the book got me to thinking about deep, unanswerable, existential questions.  If John Howland had not survived, not gone on to marry Elizabeth, and not fathered my 9^th great-grandmother, would I still be me?  Would I be here, only with a grip just slightly weaker?  Or might I not even exist at all?  Does anyone else even ponder such things before falling asleep at night?

Well, I needed answers and, in 2025, when you need answers, what do you do?  That’s right, you go to Google.  Here is what it told me:

[Every person is an] intricate biological puzzle that we are only beginning to fully understand.  From the microscopic world of DNA to the complex, neural networks in our brains, biological systems shape every aspect of who we are, from our physical traits to our personalities.  But while genetics and biology provide a blueprint, the experiences we go through – our upbringing, relationships, societal influences – play crucial roles in molding us.  So, what exactly makes you, well, you?  The answer is complex and multifaceted, and it lies at the intersection of biology, environment, and personal experience.

Biology.  Researchers have determined 99.1% of our DNA is the same as everyone else’s.  Less than 1% of your genetic makeup makes up all that makes you distinctive.  Environment.  Long ago, while reading about a field of study called Cultural Linguistics, I learned the language you are raised with has an influence on how your brain learns to processes input?  Experience.  Even if you share, say, a childhood moment with your siblings, your reaction to it differs, if only slightly, from theirs.  All of this is part of the rich stew making you you.   

We might want to ask if there is something more at work in us in addition to biology, environment, and experience.  Google asserts there is not.  And yet when my second daughter was born, I knew in an instant she was not a carbon copy of her older sister.  It was much deeper than appearance.  It had to do with temperament.  And each girl’s distinctive temperament at birth can’t be attributed neatly to biology, environment, or experience.  It is something more.  In my estimation, it is something… spiritual.

We are more than the products of nature and nurture – so much more.  What makes you unique?  In addition to your genetics, your cultural influences, and your experience, there is your spirit.  We get a glimpse of this when God calls Jeremiah to the prophetic ministry:

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,

And before you were born I consecrated you;

  I appointed you as a prophet to the nations. ^1:5

Like Jeremiah, there is something about you – something spiritual – known to God long before biology and environment and experience begin to have their way with you.  And, just as with Jeremiah, this spiritual part is imbued by God with a purpose.  God has an intent for you which, though it may be similar to what God holds for others, it is yours and yours alone. 

We come here tonight to greet the baby Jesus.  St. Paul, recognizing the holy child’s unique purpose and intent, wrote this to the Church in Ephesus:

For God chose him before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless. ^1:4 

Christ lived fully into God’s purpose and intent for him.  His witness begs us to ponder how and if we are living into ours.  Whatever smidgen of DNA you inherited from one of your 4,096 10^th great-grandparents, given all the ways our culture molds us, and beyond the vast experiences we have had (all of which contributes to what makes you you), you must come to terms with the reality you are spirit and your spirit is not product of nature or a consequence of nurture.  You are you because, like Jesus, God created you to be who you are and to do what you are supposed to do. 

I suspect Jesus spent a great deal of his formative years pondering who he was and what his purpose was to be.  Perhaps, this Christmas, you might set aside some time to muse about who you are and who you are called to be.  Perhaps you might consider how better to tend to that within you which is spirit.  And you might want to reflect on how biology, culture, and experience have helped you and how they have hindered you.

Are you lost?  God sent Jesus to find you. 

Are you confused, God sent Jesus to guide you. 

Are you tied in knots?  God sent Jesus to give you peace. 

Are adrift with no significant purpose in life?  God sent Jesus to call you to discipleship.

Are you filled with despair?  God sent Jesus to give you hope. 

Are you beaten down?  God sent Jesus to raise you up. 

Are you hurting?  God sent Jesus to heal you.

Are you crippled with self-loathing?  God sent Jesus to love you for who you are, just as you are.

Are you racked with fear?  God sent Jesus to give you faith.

Are you a slave to a passion or a vice?  God sent Jesus to set you free. 

Are you awash in a sea of sin?  God sent Jesus to save you. 

No wonder the world pauses tonight to celebrate the birth of this Child who is God’s precious gift to all.

There's a Light

 

Matthew 1:18-25

Advent 4 / Year A

I attended an Advent Retreat at Chanco last weekend where Angier Brock, our presenter, began our time by inviting us to think about how we mark time.  We live in what she calls “Empire Time” – twelve months, fifty-two weeks, 356 days.  We also live in what we might call “Nature Time” – four seasons, today being the beginning of a new one.  The Church, she noted, invites us to live in “Liturgical Time” – six seasons: Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Easter, and the long season of Pentecost (or Ordinary Time). 

In Empire Time the New Year begins eleven days from now.  It encourages us to make resolutions and offers the opportunity for new beginnings.  In Liturgical Time, the New Year began three Sundays ago.  Advent does not begin with turning over a new leaf or setting a goal, like losing weight.  It begins with darkness.  In this sense, it meshes well with Nature Time in that the days have gotten shorter and literal darkness (the absence of sunlight) practically overwhelms our lives. 

Advent’s darkness offers us Scripture readings about God’s righteous judgment and the warnings of the prophets.  This, Angier said, is reflective of what she called the Via Negativa (or the Negative Way or Path).  The Church, in its wisdom, reminds us we cannot ignore the darkness in our world, in our lives, and in our hearts.  You cannot go through life without experiencing pain, suffering, loss, brokenness, regret, failure, or sorrow.  Sometimes it can be crushing.  And the irony is the harder a person tries to avoid the darkness, the more it dominates that person’s spirit.

But, just as Advent calls us to face the Via Negativa, it points us toward what Angier calls the Via Positiva (the Positive Way).  It does this through the promise of a coming light; a shift we begin to sense in today’s Gospel reading of Matthew’s very lean story of Jesus’ birth. 

Bishop Susan was unable to be at our retreat, but she touched on many of the same themes in her Advent message to our diocese in which she cites this quote:

The Incarnation always brings good news, but it never minimizes the realness of our pain.  Advent declares the hope that a light is coming, but first it declares the truth that the world right now is very dark.

This time of year we live into another kind of time, let’s call it Cultural Time.  Our culture tells us what the ‘holiday season’ should look like and how it should feel.  Cultural Time applauds the first part of that quote, “The Incarnation always brings good news.”  Everything is supposed to be merry and bright.  As such, Cultural Time disregards the darkness Advent beckons us to acknowledge. 

And yet, the holidays often find many of us walking the Via Negativa more intensely than at any other time of the year.  We think of the loved ones we have lost.  We long for cherished traditions and simpler times, even though it feels like they are becoming more out of reach.  We hear holiday words like peace and joy and goodwill, then hold them up to our present reality.  No wonder so many of us experience despair as we mark how our life falls far short of the Hallmark Christmas we long for. 

It feels counterintuitive to say by embracing the Via Negativa the Via Positiva begins to bud.  Still, this is why Advent begins with darkness and ends with the promised hope of a new light and new life.  And this process, Angier said, activates the Via Transformativa, (the Path of Transformation).  No one is ever changed by hiding from their pain and loss and failures.  Healing comes only once you allow God to tend to what hurts. 

Last Wednesday we held our Longest Night Eucharist, sometimes referred to as a Blue Christmas service.  By design, it creates space for the Via Negativa, trusting by giving it its due we can more fully embrace the Via Positiva of the Nativity and all that surrounds it.  It takes a fair amount of courage to participate in this service, especially if your loses are fresh and your emotions are raw. 

When I reflect over the years we have offered it, I remember when people attended because that Christmas was the first without a loved one.  It was not uncommon for them to weep (even sob) through most of the service and a box of tissues became more necessary than a prayer book.  Over the years their loss has not go away, but it has become easier to bear.  Now, in addition to seeking comfort, these folks attend this service to support those whose loss is recent.

They have walked by the Via Transformativa.  Their hearts have been strengthened enough to bear their pain and stretched enough to reach out to others with empathy and compassion.  It is such a beautiful image of Advent Time, of the movement from darkness to the hope of new light. 

Perhaps, Angier noted, nowhere is this movement better articulated than the Advent carol O come, O come Emmanuel:   

O come, O come Emmanuel and ransom captive Israel

   which mourns in lonely exile here (the Via Negativa).

Rejoice!  Rejoice!  Emmanuel shall come to thee,

   O Israel (the Via Positiva).

My prayer for each of us this Advent is we will find ourselves moving from darkness to light, from mourning to rejoicing.

There’s a light, there’s a light in the darkness

and the black of the night cannot harm us

We can trust not to fear for our comfort is near

There’s a light, there’s a light in the darkness

It will rain, it will rain in the desert

in the cracks of the plain, there’s a treasure

Like the thirst of the seed we will await we believe

It will rain, it will rain in the desert

(from There’s a Light by Beth Nielson Chapman)

A Gentle Rain in the Desert

 

Isaiah 35:1-10

Advent 3 / Year A

In the fall of 2018, when Tom Coxe and I went with a group to the Holy Land, we walked along a path on the hills above the Wadi Qelt, a gulch created by a seasonal stream which begins in Jerusalem and winds it way down to Jericho and the Jordon River.  It is the setting for Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan where a traveler is accosted by bandits.  The only threat we faced was posed by local venders hocking goods for sale to tourists like us. 

At the time of our visit the rolling hills and deep ravines of this region were completely devoid of vegetation.  After being in the Holy Land for a few days, we had grown accustomed to landscape of nothing more than dust and stones – more stones than you could ever imagine (at least this was our reaction on the first initial days of our pilgrimage).  Many biblical passages refer to ‘the desert’ and now we were in it, or at least one part of one desolate land.  The barren and bleak nature of the Wadi Qelt is unforgettable.

Six months later, the Mottley’s went to the Holy Land and posted a picture from the Wadi Qelt – no doubt from the exact same spot Tom and I had been the previous fall.  Their visit fell just after the spring rains and what had been nothing but a dirt and rock-strewn landscape we were there was for them covered with red crocus, as if someone had carpeted the entire place.  These desert flowers have adapted to the harsh, arid environment and burst to life almost overnight, exploding in color after even a little moisture wets the ground.

The prophet Isaiah, speaking at a low point in his people’s history when tens of thousands have been taken captive and held in forced exile, draws on the image of the desert flower to proclaim a message of hope:

The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad,

the desert shall rejoice and blossom;

  like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly,

  and rejoice with joy and singing.

Why forecast this happiness?  Because, Isaiah proclaims with boldness, the exiles will return.  And not just return, return with singing on a “Holy Way” prepared by the Lord.  Unlike the Wadi Qelt, with its twists and turns and hidden dangers, the Lord’s path be so well laid out “not even a fool will go astray” (no GPS will be necessary!).  It will be free of danger; not even ravenous beasts will haunt it. 

Isaiah says God is going to restore all who have been broken and battered:

The eyes of the blind shall be opened,

the ears of the deaf unstopped;

  the lame shall leap like a deer,

  the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.

You can count on this, Isaiah says, just as surely as you can count of the desert breaking forth in bloom after a spring rain.

Isaiah proclaims this message to a people who have lost hope.  God directs him to “strengthen those with weak hands,” “make firm the knees of the feeble,” and encourage everyone who has a “fearful heart.”  His message from the Lord is this: “Everything we have endured and suffered is about to pass.  Just as the desert is transformed by the rain, so too will our lives be changed when the glory of the Lord appears.”   

Isaiah’s message uses a specific Hebrew word – naqam – to describe how God will act.  Various bibles translate this word as vengeance, vindication, or retribution.  The version we heard this morning puts it this way:

Here is your God.

He will come with vengeance,

  with terrible recompense.

  He will come and save you.

The inference is we are good, so we get rewarded.  They are bad, so they get punished. 

One biblical scholar, Hendrik Peels, argues persuasively that because the focus of Isaiah’s message is on liberation of the oppressed, a more accurate translation is God will come with “restorative justice.”  Walter Brueggemann, another scholar, notes we should remember the term vengeance has more than a negative connotation.  It promises “God will come to right wrong, to order chaos, to heal sickness, to restore life to its rightful order.”

Weak hands, feeble knees, and fearful hearts.  If only Isaiah had included aching backs, we might be tempted to believe he is speaking to us also.  In fact, he is.  God is always about the work of righting wrongs, bringing order, healing sickness, and restoring life… in our world, in our nation, and in our personal lives.  We all go through periods of desolation and dryness.  At times life can be overwhelming.  There is never a moment when “the desert” is not descriptive of some facet of our life… a relationship, your job, losing a sense of joy in what once made you happy.  God is about the work of bringing rain to the desert regions of our lives:  

For waters shall break forth in the wilderness,

and streams in the desert;

  the burning sand shall become a pool,

  and the thirsty ground springs of water.

Advent, as we have said, is a time of watching and waiting.  It is a season of hope; hope for the promised gentle rain God promises will fall in our hearts.  Then, like those of old ransomed by the Lord we too…

… shall return,

and come to Zion with singing;

  everlasting joy shall be upon our heads;

  We shall obtain joy and gladness,

  and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.

Repent!

 

Matthew 3:1-12

Advent 2 / Year A

How is your Christmas decorating coming along?  Mine, I think, is finished.  There was a time when my outdoor decorating varied from year to year.  Then, maybe seven or eight years ago, I took two table runners, fixed to them letters spelling our “Peace” and “Goodwill”, and hung them from my porch.  It was a time when our civic life as a nation seemed to be marked by anything but peace and goodwill, so I saw this as doing my part (humble though it may be) to call us back to a common life of charity and respect for one another.  It worked so well (more accurately… had no detectable effect whatsoever) that I have stayed with the banners ever since.

Peace and Goodwill are words you hear a lot this time of year.  Nobody wishes you a “merry” Labor Day weekend or says “Rejoice” on Groundhog’s Day, but these words are on our lips at Christmas.  I wonder what it would be like to put out banners (one a week) featuring specific Advent words and messages.  Based on last week’s reading, the first banner could read “Stay Awake.”  That would leave my neighbors scratching their heads.  Today’s banner would have to spell out “Repent.”  I doubt it would cause anyone to change their behavior, but most likely it would get me crossed off the invitation list to a holiday party or two.

Repent!  Folks today tend to think of the grime prophets of old as being gloomy predictors of the future.  They were not.  They were folks willing to stick out their necks by telling it like it is right here, right now.  They point fingers and name names.  Their messages tend to be either in the first or second person imperative… “You need to get your act together” and “Ya’ll must stop doing X right now.”  Truth-tellers like this rarely are welcomed with open arms.  And yet, because they speak God’s word, and because God’s dream for the human family doesn’t change, the message of the prophets, uncomfortable though it may be, still holds true.  Repent!  You, you, and you!  Us, each and every one, without exception! 

Jesus tells stories which get you to think.  They center on Samaritans and prodigals; on loving your neighbor and forgiving with open arms.  Prophets like John the Baptist are more pointed, more specific.  He demands tax collectors be honest.  He commands soldiers not to abuse their power.  He calls kings to account for their immorality.  He requires everyone who has abundance to share with those who lack.   Repentance is about good behavior, he says.  It is like being a fruit-bearing tree.  You can produce either good fruit or rotten.  And then John tells it plain: “Every farmer knows what happens to the tree which bears only bad fruit… it gets chopped down.” 

The biblical word for repentance is metania.  It literally means turning around, like when you are driving down a road, realize you are heading in the wrong direction, and make a U-turn.  In this sense, repentance is a positive, hopeful word.  To harken back to last week’s Advent word, it is a waking up, accurately perceiving what is amiss in your life, and then doing something about it.  John’s call to repentance affirms each of us has the ability to amend our lives, turn around, and get right what we have been doing wrong, perhaps for a long time.

John believes his message is preparing the way for the One who is to come.  He stands at the threshold of a New Covenant.  Like the first testament, his ethic springs forth from the Law… Do this… Don’t do that.  His focus is on behavior and actions.  He wants your life and mine to shining examples of goodness.  He wants the world to be a better place.  He invites those who respond to his message into the river to be baptized as a sign of personal repentance, of turning your life around.  This, he says, is how you prepare for what is to come.

And what is to come?  God’s Messiah who, he says, will baptize with the Holy Spirit and with fire.  It is not at all clear how clearly John understands what this will look like, but we are blessed because we experience it.  When the Holy Spirit is active in us, St. Paul says it produces the fruit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. ^{Gal. 5:22-23}  Being baptized in Jesus is not merely about a change in behavior (the fruit of repentance), it is about a change in heart (the fruit of the Spirit).  Our deeds are no longer actions we know we are supposed to do, but grit our teeth while doing them, they emanate from our hearts which have been changed by being filled with the love of Christ.

So Repent is a good word for Advent.  It is a call to lead a better life, to be a better person.  But perhaps we need to add another banner with another word – Open.  Open your heart to Christ’s Spirit.  Be filled with It.  When this happens, no one has to tell you to do the right thing because it flows through and from you.  When you turn around, this is what you are turning toward.

Noticing God in the Here and Now

 

Matthew 24:36-44

Advent 1 / Year A

This past week I made my yearly pilgrimage to Wal-Mart for the sole purpose of staying (relatively) current on contemporary culture’s Christmas marketing.  Here is just a smattering of what I found:

·    Snoop (Dog) on the Stoop and Martha (Stewart) on the Mantle are taking on Elf on the Shelf.

·    And speaking of Elf on the Shelf, he (or it) is a part of a much bigger product line called Santaverse, from which you can purchase oodles of stuff, including an inflatable peppermint blimp.

·    While we are on things filled with air, our local retailor offers not one, not two, but 54 different outdoor holiday inflatables.  I recommend either the pink dinosaur or something called Bluey. 

·    Dwarfed by the hundreds of Disney, Barbie, and sports ornaments, I managed to locate the following decorative items: two styles of stars made out of tin, an angel, and a cheap gold-colored plastic depiction of the Holy Family.

I like to think of my annual trek as being an Advent preparation rooted in the spiritual value of watchfulness.  During this liturgical season we anticipate God is about to break into our world in some new way.  By watching and waiting we show ourselves faithful, but even more, we find ourselves better able to discover all the different ways God is already present, yet often unnoticed. 

Years ago I read a book which melded the insights of Christianity and Zen.  It posed two questions one needs to ponder if you want to discern God’s presence in your life: “What time is it?” and “Where are you?”  The answer to the first is, “Now!” while the answer to the second is, “Here!”

The late poet Jill Baumgaertner made this observation about the writing of Annie Dillard:

Her intense watchfulness, her ability to concentrate so fiercely that the impenetrable becomes apparent, dazzles readers so much that they allow her to move beyond description into exhortation.  We live in a daze, she says to us, and it is time to wake our sleeping senses so that we can see what has been there all along.

By being watchful in the here and now of life we begin to discover there are things present which can’t be explained purely in terms of science or rational analysis; things like Annie Dillard describes and spiritual people discern. 

Currently I am reading a book by Dacher Keltner titled simply Awe.  In it he asks this:  

How can we live the good life?  One enlivened by joy and community and meaning, that brings a sense of worth and belonging and strengthens the people and natural environment around us?  Now, after twenty years of teaching happiness, I have an answer:  FIND AWE.

Keltner defines awe as being “an emotion we experience when we encounter vast mysteries that we don’t understand” and he says it is our response to what he calls “the eight wonders of life”:

·     The strength, courage, and kindness we find in other people.

·     Collective movement, such as dance and sports.

·     Nature.

·     Music.

·     Art and visual design.

·     Mystical encounters.

·     Encountering life (like a child’s first steps) and death (such as the peaceful passing of a loved one).

·     Big ideas or epiphanies.

Notice, for us be aware of some of these experiences a choir of angels will appear singing “Glory to God in the highest.”  These are the big moments of Awe with a Capital A.  But most of Keltner’s list can be apprehended by knowing what time it is – now – and where you are – here.   Do this, he says, and we will find experiences of awe transforming us by “quieting the nagging, self-critical, overbearing, status conscious voice of our self and empowering us to collaborate, to open our minds to wonders, and to the deep patterns of life.”  In all of this hear Keltner articulating one of Advent’s deepest purposes: Be watchful.  Be expectant.

Now, I know this is a lot of lofty language, but let me share with you how one person, Douglas Burton-Christie, puts it into action:

“What did you notice today?” my three-year-old daughter, Julia, wants to know.  We have been playing a game lately of asking and trying to answer that simple question.  There are only two rules: you can’t say “nothing” (unless you don’t feel like playing), and you have to try to describe what you noticed, to say, “what it is like.” 

We started playing the game recently after Julia began attending preschool.  I realized that I did not know much about how she spent her days.  If I asked her what she did that day, I usually got a brief “report.”  This question did not seem to interest her much… So now we concentrate on the particular, on what has impressed itself on her senses.  I learn a lot more this way. 

One day she told me about looking up from the playground and seeing a flock of white birds flying overhead, sharp against the blue sky.  Another day it was the sting on her face of sand tossed by a rambunctious playmate that impressed her and remained with her until we met that evening.  Another day, she tells me of the sweet notes of a bird’s song floating down our chimney; is there a nest up there, she wonders?  Piece by piece, I learn about her world.  I am also learning about mine.

So, as we begin this season of Advent, I want to encourage you to think about where you are (here), what time it is (now), what it is you notice, and how God is present in all of it.  God is not so much about to break into your world as you are about to become more aware of how you live and move and have your being in God.