Advent II sermon

Advent II—December 8. 2019

          Suddenly, without warning, the Baptist appears from the wilderness.

          BAM! HERE COMES JOHN!

          Out of the desert, out of the smoldering embers of the Hope of the people of Israel, out of the fading memory of prophets long dead…suddenly, without warning—there is John….

          There was nothing new or unusual about baptism in Jewish practice. In fact, “ritual washing” was a part of every Jew’s daily life. Each time a devout Jew came in contact with any unclean thing, ritual washing was necessary. And since first century Israel was occupied by the foreign, Gentile Roman army the Jews could not avoid “unclean things”.  “Baptism” was necessary to wash away that uncleanness—that external and ritual stain of the Gentile world.

          BAM! John turned the washing inside out. His washing—his baptism—was for the forgiveness of sin. His water wasn’t to wash away the outer contamination—John came to wash away the inner darkness and death from the mind and heart and soul.

          And he came just as people were losing hope. It had been 400 years since a prophet had been heard in Israel. For four centuries there had been no VOICE heard in the land and none to answer the Prophet’s call.

          BAM!  After generations of emptiness, a Prophet came to Israel. After centuries of silence, a Prophet’s Voice was heard in the Land. He was Isaiah. He was Ezekiel. He was Elijah.

          Suddenly, without warning, John Baptist appears.

                                                *

          The common people streamed out to meet him. All those in Jerusalem and Judea who had longed for the Voice of a Prophet rushed to him to be baptized in the River Jordan. He was irresistible to them. He spoke powerfully into their listening. He called them to bare their souls and unburden their hearts. He called them to Forgiveness, to Grace, to the Love and Healing of God. The holy river’s waters flowed over them—restoring them, renewing them, giving them vitality and Life.

          So far, so good. But then some Pharisees and Sadducees showed up and things got ugly.

          “You brood of Vipers!” John raged at the Pharisees and Sadducees. “Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?”

          This is what we must remember about the Pharisees and Sadducees—they weren’t bad people. In fact, the conventional wisdom of the Jewish world in the first century considered the Pharisees and Sadducees to be “good people.” The Pharisees and Sadducees devoutly studied the Torah, scrupulously obeyed the Laws of Moses and faithfully performed the rituals of their faith. The Pharisees and Sadducees talked the talk and walked the walk of Judaism. In ways too uncomfortable to reflect on deeply, the Pharisees and Sadducees were “the good Episcopalians”  of their day and time.

          They said their prayers, kept their pledge up to date, helped with parish functions and came regularly to services. Good “church folks”, as my Grandmother would have said—that’s what the Pharisees and Sadducees were. So what was it about them that so profoundly angered John the Baptist?

          This is what he said to them: Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children for Abraham. 

          Here’s what I think John’s anger is all about….The Pharisees and Sadducees had decided that the “outward” and “visible” aspects of being faithful and following God were enough.  So, they said their prayers, kept their pledge up to date, helped with parish functions and came regularly to services—and they believed that was ENOUGH.

          John Baptist had other ideas.

          John came out of the wilderness to talk about the hearts and souls and minds of God’s people. John appeared, suddenly and without warning, to call us to more than “outward show”.  John came to suggest something audacious and astonishing.  John came to tell us WE NEED TO FALL IN LOVE WITH GOD.

                                                *

          Advent, it seems to me, is the season of romance between our souls and the Heart of God.  In the Christian year, it is Advent and not Spring that is the season of “falling in love”.

          And falling in love means you will do and be what your beloved needs and wants. And what God wants is for us to work for the downtrodden, lift up the poor, be advocates for those in need, care for the sick, feed the hungry, house the homeless, bring peace to those at war, care for the un-cared for.

          This Advent, this time of waiting and longing and wishing and hoping for the Christ Child, consider this: how deeply are you in love with God and how completely are you “doing the work of God in this world”?

          That is your Advent pondering in this time of waiting and longing and sitting in silence when the world around you is full of noise.

          I pray for you as you ponder.

          And I ask you to pray for me as well.

Amen.

         

Service of Remembrance and Support II

The service was lovely and moving. 30 people attended. Many had tears in their eyes at some point. Garnett, who was the officiant, did an incredible job, saying to people after they spoke, "God loves you and we love you."

In my homily I spoke of how my father never grieved for my mother because 'grieving' would have been too hard. As I was speaking, it came to me that the part of grieving that is the hardest is to forgive the person for leaving you behind. My father never forgave my mother and so he couldn't get past his pain.

I thought about that on the ride home and think it is absolutely true. "Forgiveness" is the key to 'moving on' after someone you love dies.

Forgiveness covers a multitude of sins and lets us move on.

One young man with his wife and young child said he loved coming to St. James because his mother was 'there'. She is. So many things around the church we things she did.

That's another aspect of 'moving on'--realizing the one you love is 'still there' in your heart and mind.

One woman gave thanks for a man whose name she didn't and couldn't know but whose heart was transplanted into a friend of hers. What an act of love, to give part of yourself so another can live.

The wife and daughter of a man I buried only a few days ago came and told me afterwards it 'meant the world to them'.

The people who I feel sorry for aren't the ones working through grief by coming to the service, it's the one who are, like my father, staying in pain because they won't complete the grief process.

Those are the ones I pray for.

Grief is real. So is moving through it to a place where we can 'move on' and have joy in our memories of the ones we loved who are no longer with us.

A wonderful service. Every church should do it around Christmas.

Service of Remembrance and Support

Tomorrow is St. James, Higganum service of Remembrance and support. It is to remind people that the Christmas Season is not a time of joy and wonder for people who have lost someone they love to death.

I'll preach and I'm going to talk about my father, who never, ever got over the death of my mother.

On the way to the cemetery. when I was in my 20's, he said to the undertaker (though I know they don't like that term--they want to be referred to as 'mortians', or something like that) "I now how nothing to live for". Which was odd because I was right there beside him.

But it was true. The rest of his life--some 15 years or more--was meaningless to him.

Deaths often do that much damage.

So a moment to remember the pain of losing someone you love in this time of endless carols and Christmas decorations and being implored to be joyous, makes the season not what it's made up to be.

Tomorrow at 6:30 pm, we'll acknowledge that.

That's a good thing to do.

Really.

Let people who don't 'celebrate' the season because of their pain express that.

Fear of falling

I have two really bad knees. One (the right) has had all the ligaments repaired. The left is full of arthritis and Lord knows what else. I should probably go have them looked at, but I'm not ready for a knee replacement just yet.

The problem is, not that they hurt--they don't much--but that they seem so unstable and I'm afraid they will fail me and I will fall.

This is what getting older is like--it's always SOMETHING worrying you.

With the snow and ice I really feel unstable.

I wear Copper sleeves on both knees--before Bern bought them for me I was using a cane.

Whenever I go out, I really am afraid of falling.\

Not a good feeling, believe you me.

Alas.

I'll go to the doctor in the Spring, I promise you.

Until then I'll walk tentatively.

What now?

he Intellegence Committee has sent its 300 page report about the President's offenses to the Judiciary Committee, which would write articles of impeachment.

The nation and the congress are 'tribal' at this point.

Have we ever been this divided since the Civil War?

Pain is real.

We are suffering.

What happens next will either save our Constitutional Democracy or perhaps break it beyond repair.

We shall see.

Won't we?

Weather and Death

Tonight is full of weather. It's 9:19 p.m. and I just took Brigit out into a back yard
of snow, ice and rain. She did better than me, having four legs. It's suppose to really snow tomorrow on top of all the icy stuff. Monday computes will be iffy.

And all this week I'll be dealing with Death--roads allowing me,

Tuesday I have a funeral at a funeral home in Middletown for a man who was a life-long policeman--:local, the county, then State Police. A dear guy who lived across the road from St. James in Higganum with his wife and daughter. He needed open heart surgery but couldn't have it because he got an infection from the hospital. So he died in a care home days later. I used to go across the street and talk with him and his wife and give them communion. He was an honorable and gentle man who spent his life in dangerous situations. The ashes of his dogs are waiting for his and then his wife's, when she dies. And they will be together for eternity. Several days before he died, his daughter had a baby, so his wife went from a hospital of new life to a care home of impending death.

What a mixture of feelings.

Then Friday night there is a service of Remembrance at St. James where people remember those who they loved who are dead. It's a lovely service, but full of pain. This time of year--Thanksgiving and Christmas are difficult for a lot of people. This service is to support them in their pain in such a seemingly joyous time.

Then Saturday, I have a funeral at Emmanuel Church in Killingworth for a man who died suddenly on the day after Thanksgiving. His family is out of state and I haven't talked with them yet, but I did talk with him the Sunday before he died at church. He wasn't always there but was a lot. He seemed fine to me that day.

Sudden death has an advantage for the one who dies, but not for those who love them. There was no opportunity for 'final sharing' for his daughters and grand-children.

This is the first day of Advent--a time of anticipation and waiting and longing.

And I have weather and death to contend with.

It's what I chose to do so many years ago--be with those touched by life and death.

I just wish it wasn't so cold and icy right now.

Advent 1 sermon (if the snow lets me preach it)

Advent I 2019-Emmanuel, Killingworth

                   “Hello Darkness, my old friend,

                   I’ve come to talk with you again.

                   Because a vision softly creeping,

                   left its seeds while I was sleeping,

                   and the vision that was planted in my brain

                   still remains—within the sounds of silence.”

                                      --Simon and Garfunkle

          If you are of a certain age—oh, like mine, for example—the words of that song may act like a memory magnet. Of course, if you remember the 60’s and 70’s you weren’t really having a good time….

          But as I’ve thought about today’s readings and about the beginning of Advent, that song kept appearing and reappearing in my mind and heart.

          Advent is a time of “darkness”, a time of “visions”, a time of “sleeping” and a time of “silence”.

          Each day of Advent has less light than the day before. Each day is only a few minutes darker—but by the time Advent is ending the effect is startling. As we wait for the Christchild we are waiting in the darkest time of the year. And Darkness—for all the fear it brings—can be a dear and valuable friend.

          Advent is a time chock full of “visions”.  Isaiah, in today’s reading, sees a vision of the new Jerusalem descending to the mountain of the Lord. He sees visions of peace and visions of the end of war. He sees visions of a time of unity among all nations and a time of learning to walk God’s path and not our own—a time of walking in the Light….

          Paul’s vision in Romans is the vision of LOVE replacing the LAW—a vision of compassion and caring for the well being of others taking away the need for rules and regulations. Paul’s vision is one of walking in the Light….

          Then there is Jesus’ “vision” from Matthew’s gospel—a vision of the coming of the Son of Man. It is a vision of sudden judgment and sure distress—and yet, even in that vision, God comes to gather the children at an unexpected time….

          Advent is a time of darkness and visions and sleeping.

          The earth is falling asleep. The trees are bare, the flowers are dead, the animals are nesting and the ground is freezing. The air chills us and the moon and stars shine brightly, larger than usual, in the cold sky. It is a time to sleep through the long night and dream of the Light.

         

          Advent is a time of silence. Think about it. The insects are asleep. Many of the birds are gone. Night comes quickly and stays long so many of the sounds of the day go missing early. And, it seems to me at least, the cold, heavy air muffles the sounds that are left. Silence, like a blanket, falls over us during Advent.

          Human beings are not creatures that appreciate silence and darkness. We long for light and sound. Advent tends to make us anxious. No one likes to “wait”—and Advent is all about “waiting”—and most of us fear the dark and fill our lives with noises. So Advent…a time of “waiting” in the darkness and the silence…well, it is problematic for most of us most of the time.

          And there is this: it is in darkness that we discover the secret places of our soul and it is in silence that we begin to hear the voice of God. Darkness and silence force us to “be alone”—and in that “loneliness” we discover our deeper selves AND that we are not, ultimately, alone.

          Advent is a time to experience darkness and silence—lean into them, embrace them. And it is not something we do gladly or willingly. It is something we must practice.

          Do me a favor—if you would. Close your eyes and keep them closed.

          See how close darkness always is?

          And now—eyes still closed—I’m going to stop talking for a moment….

          See how close silence always is?

          We are waiting, we are waiting, in a dark and silent place…we are waiting….

          But in our waiting, as we touch the darkness and the silence, we come to know we are not alone

          Others are waiting with us….We are not alone…without opening your eyes, simply sense the people who are with you…those here and those in your heart….

          And beyond that, there is Another who waits with us…deep, deep in our hearts, God waits with us…in the darkness and the silence…there is God….

          The New Jerusalem is coming….the Son of Man is coming….the Christ child is coming….the Light is coming….

          All our waiting will bring that to pass….

          In the darkness and the silence…..       Amen and Amen