Advent III

I was ordained in 1975--so, I've been preaching almost every Sunday for most of 41 years.

In the Episcopal Church, the Sunday readings are on a three year cycle. So, the same lessons show up every three years. I don't usually use a text or even an outline for a sermon, but I do write them out many weeks and store them in my computer.

One of the ways of 'cheating' in preaching is to go see what you said one of the other times on Advent III, for example. Just to get ideas, you understand, not to preach the same sermon over and over...

So I looked up Advent III in my sermons and found one from 2013--three years ago, so on the same readings. But the more I looked at that sermon, the less I could remember preaching it. Writing and preaching are vastly different experiences. I looked at Advent III, 2013 in Emmanuel Church's service book and low and behold, that day the churches I serve were cancelled by snow! No wonder I couldn't remember the sermon....

So I used it today and here it is for  you....

Advent iii, 2016

          John Baptist was out of control.

          He lived in the desert for years—eating only what he found in the wilderness. He did not participate in society—instead he railed out dire warnings to the sand and the rocks. He wore strange clothing he had fashioned from animal skins and never cut his hair. Little wonder then that when he appeared from the wilderness, proclaiming that the Kingdom was near, people were both frightened of him and yet almost irresistibly drawn to his strangeness.

          And one thing John never forgot—he was a ‘prophet’ of the One Who Was To Come. His whole life and everything he did pointed, not to himself, but to another. He was to make the Way straight—to clear the ground for the Coming One of God. He was not ‘the One’—he was the forerunner, the harbinger, the messenger of One greater than him.

          Little wonder then, when John found himself in prison, soon to lose his head for daring to condemn the royal family, that he suddenly wondered if his life-work had been in vain. Had he made the rough ground smooth or had he wasted his time and energy…had he failed to fulfill his only mission in life?

          John sent disciples to Jesus. “Are you the One?” they asked him.

          “Are you the One, or are we to wait for another?”

          In all the gospels, Jesus almost never gives a direct response to a question. He either asks a question in return or tells a story or gives what seems like a non sequitor in reply.

          His response to John’s disciples is no different. Instead of answering their question—instead of claiming to be The One all Israel was awaiting—he tells them to go back and tell John what they see and hear.

          “…the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised and the poor have good news brought to them…..” Jesus tells the disciples of John that what he “does” should answer the question of who he “is”.

          Jesus’ words echoed the description of the “holy one” from the prophecy of Isaiah. His identity is found, not in who he ‘says’ he is, but in the works he does.

          When John heard the message he must have realized that he had fulfilled his mission. John must have known that Jesus was “the one”.

          It is really no different for any of us. The proof is in the pudding. By the fruits we will know who someone truly IS.

          The Kingdom is near—the Kingdom is always near, always ‘at hand’, always just out of the sight of our periphery vision. Close, but ‘not yet’.

          So the question is not, ‘who do we say that we are?” The question that matters is how do we live into the coming Kingdom? How do we lean into the reign of God? How are we part of the in-breaking of Light into the Darkness?

          We are the children of the Kingdom that was and is and is to come. We are God-bearers, Light bringers, the vehicles of healing in this tragic and suffering world.

          It is not who we ‘say’ we are that draws the Kingdom nearer. The Kingdom is unveiled in our midst by what we ‘do’.

          Advent is not simply a time of ‘waiting’ for the Coming One. It is a time to ‘prepare’ to welcome the Kingdom just at hand.

          Make straight the road of Kindness.

          Smooth out the way of Compassion and Generosity.

          Tear down the mountains on Indifference and Judgment and build highways of Love and Inclusion and Acceptance.

          Through the Wilderness make a path for Forgiveness and Mercy to walk on.

          We too must ‘prepare’ the way of the Lord.

          We are the ones for whom the Kingdom waits.

          We are the ones God is expecting to welcome the Child.

All this is expressed beautifully in the Wisdom from the Hopi Elders. Listen….

          There is a River flowing now, very fast. It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on to the shore. They will feel they are being torn apart and will suffer greatly.

          Know this: the River has its destination. The Elders say we must let go of the shore, push out into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open and our heads above the water.

          At this time of history, we are to take nothing 'personally'. Least of all, outselves. The moment that we do that, our spritual growth and journey comes to a halt.

          The time of the lone wolf is over. Gather yourselves!

          Banish the word 'struggle' from your attitude and your vocabulary.

          All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.

          We are the ones we’ve been waiting for….

          We, you and I, are the ones to lean into the Kingdom.  Amen.

Im-mo-bil-ize

"Immobilize" is the verb of the noun of the thing I've worn on my right leg since September 28. That noun is "immobilizer".

It is a fabric brace with a three inch flat metal piece in the back and two one inch flat metal pieces on the right and left and four Velcro tabs to tie it on. And it does it's job. It, according to Merriam-Webster, serves to 'reduce or eliminate motion of the body by mechanical means'.

Velcro, metal and fabric doesn't seem very 'mechanical' to me--but it damn sure works.

I wore this thing 24 hours a day except for bi-weekly and horrifying showers without being able to put weight on my right foot, except for my toes--from September 28 until November 14. All that time I wore the immobilizer and used crutches (which I suck at!). Since November 14, I can walk with a cane and drive again. But watching me get into and out of a car with an immobilizer on should make America's Funniest Videos.

I've been having Physical Therapy almost since surgery, but even though I do that without the brace, the brace is still 'immobilizing' my life.

I hope on December 19 that Dr. Shai ('Shaw') will take it away.

My knee is still stiff though I can bend it to 110 degrees and walk easily without the cane at PT. I can even go up steps at PT without the brace.

I'm still (except when sleeping without the brace and taking showers without terror) made immobile most of my waking life.

Here's my advice: never, ever rupture your quad muscle on either leg.

Heed that advice well....Or find out what 'immobile' really means (Merriam-Webster come to life....)

opposites attract--thank God!

If opposites didn't attract I wouldn't have been married to Bern for 46 hours, much less 46 years!

Here's an example: 'focus'.

Bern gets really focused on things. Like today, I came home to find her working on the candy houses she's making for our three oldest granddaughters. I complimented her on how they were shaping up. I think she grunted in reply. It may have been a sigh or a growl, but it tipped me off to keep several rooms and hopefully, a floor between us this afternoon.

When she is in 'focus-mood' best not try to do 'small talk'...or any talk! If the house were on fire I would risk telling her--but 46 years is long enough to learn when to back off.

I, on the other hand, could be doing brain surgery and carry on a conversation about the weather! Which, as I think of it, is a good reason for me not to do brain surgery.

I don't have much 'focus' at all. I mean, I can get things done, but I don't go 'into myself' like she does. I'm an extrovert and she's an introvert and that explains things around the edges. But not fully....

You see, when she's 'candy house focused', I want more than anything to 'chat' with her. Since I don't 'focus' like she does, I (somewhere deep inside of me) want to prove she doesn't 'focus' like she appears to. Why? So I can prove she can't do something I can't? 'Opposites' are a red flag before my bull? Or, most likely, I am toward ADD on the scale, like she and my daughter say....

"Focus" and attention disorder. Thank God opposites attract....

This is what got more views than Blue Christmas

Sunday, March 15, 2015

"Christianists"

So, I was reading an article on the Huffington Post about Ben Carson, the Black retired surgeon who may be running for President.

The article was about how Dr. Carson had said on TV that homosexuality was 'absolutely a choice' and how he later backed away from what he said.

Well, the article was what it was. Then I made the mistake of scrolling down to the comments about the article. I got hooked. Hundreds and hundreds of comments from every point of view from "Dr. Carson didn't go far enough...homosexuality is a Sin!" to "what a load of b.s. this Carson guy is!"

Somewhere in the 30 or so comments I read was one that really got me thinking. I wish I remember what commenter wrote it but I'm not willing to go back and sift through them to be able to tell you....

Anyway, that comment was about, not Dr. Carson, but one of the several comments that said gay folk will burn in hell.

The writer said, "I don't call those folks 'Christians', I call them 'Christianists'."

That really resonated with me. Being painted with the same brush with "Christians" who deny climate change, hate homosexuals, want to cut off food stamps to teach people the 'value of work', support the Keystone pipeline because Jesus wants us to have enough oil, support Israel without reservation--not because they love Jews but because they want Armageddon to come,  want to deny all abortions, believe Obama was born in Kenya, on and on and on...because they say Jesus would believe all that just drives me crazy.

From now on I'm referring to those folks as "Christianists", pure and simple.

As far as I can tell (and this is just me talkin') the length and breath of  'being a Christian' could be summed up like this:
      *love your neighbor as yourself
      *treat everyone as you wish to be treated
      *realize God loves every one of us
      *reach out to those less fortunate than you
      *seek the face of God in everyone you meet

I'm sure I left something out--but not much.

Stop there and you'll be in the company of angels.

"Christianists" want to make God in their own image and use God/Jesus to champion all their causes. I'm through with them. Really and forever. Being a Christian, it seems to me, involves the 5 things above...few enough things to count on the fingers of one hand. Simple enough.

And I think (just me talkin') 'being a Christian' is that simple.

Blue Christmas #2

I had to go back to March 15, 2015 to find a post that got more views than "Blue Christmas" on December 2, 2016 has already gotten.

There have been almost a post a day, on average, since 3/15/15. But in the past three days more people have read "Blue Christmas" from 12/2/16 than any of the others in over a year!

So, what's that about?

Did I really touch a cord about the negative feelings around this time of year and how we are all pressured into not admitting to them?

Did people tell other people to read about the Service of Remembrance and Support that the Cluster Churches host because it might speak to them?

Does it go that deeply?

I'm obviously out of my depths here since I don't have very many negative feelings attached to Christmas but acknowledge and support those who do.

I've always thought the season was fraught with artifice and pretense. Since I take Advent with great seriousness (my most spiritual time of the year) my feelings about this time of year are deep and quiet, not public and frivolous.

But there must be a real undercurrent of feeling out there in blog land about the 'blue' side of Christmas.

Since I make my living around this time of year, I'd love to hear more from you about those painful memories during the Christmas season. You can comment on the blog. I don't know if others can read that, however. So it would be safer to email me at Padrejgb@aol.com with your thoughts.

I really would like to hear them.

The readers of the original Blue Christmas post must have something they need to share....

snow

I had to clean about a quarter inch of wet snow from my car this morning. By noon, there was no snow left anywhere around.

I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to clear snow over the next few months--it is New England, after all. But this was a good way to get started.

A little snow, a couple of swipes with my windshield cleaner and off I go on wet, but not icy roads.

Makes me like snow more than usual that this first iteration was so gentle and short lived....

What I do....

Today I visited a woman who will most likely--almost surely--be dead before a week has passed. She was very alert and we talked....We talked....I anointed her and prayed with her and I drove home.

So, I found this poem, one I've shared before, about what (as a priest) I do....

I DRIVE HOME

I drive home through pain, through suffering,

through death itself.

I drive home through Cat-scans and blood tests

and X-rays and Pet-scans (whatever they are)

and through consultations of surgeons and oncologists

and even more exotic flora with medical degrees.

I drive home through hospitals and houses

and the wondrous work of hospice nurses

and the confusion of dozens more educated than me.

Dressed in green scrubs and Transfiguration white coats,

they discuss the life or death of people I love.

And they hate, more than anything, to lose the hand

to the greatest Poker Player ever, the one with all the chips.

And, here’s the joke, they always lose in the end—

the River Card turns it all bad and Death wins.

So, while they consult and add artificial poison

to the Poison of Death—shots and pills and IV’s

of poison—I drive home and stop in vacant rooms

and wondrous houses full of memories

and dispense my meager, medieval medicine

of bread and wine and oil.

Sometimes I think…sometimes I think…

I should not drive home at all

since I stop in hospitals and houses to bring my pitiful offering

to those one step, one banana peel beneath their foot,

from meeting the Lover of Souls.

I do not hate Death. I hate dying, but not Death.

But it is often too much for me, stopping on the way home

to press the wafer into their quaking hands;

to lift the tiny, pewter cup of bad port wine to their trembling lips;

and to smear their foreheads with fragrant oil

while mumbling much rehearsed words and wishing them

whole and well and eternal.

I believe in God only around the edges.

But when I drive home, visiting the dying,

I’m the best they’ll get of all that.

And when they hold my hand with tears in their eyes

and thank me so profoundly, so solemnly, with such sweet terror

in their voices, then I know.

Driving home and stopping there is what I’m meant to do.

A little bread, a little wine and some sweet smelling oil

may be—if not enough—just what was missing.

I’m driving home, driving home, stopping to touch the hand of Death.

Perhaps that is all I can do.

I tell myself that, driving home, blinded by pain and tears,

having been with Holy Ones.

8/2007 jgb