Month: December 2013

A Sermon for the First Sunday after Christmas Day

Year A – December 29, 2013

David H. Knight, Priest Associate

Send to us your spirit, God, fill our hearts with gratitude for the gift of your Word made flesh among us, and strengthen us to live according to your will, in Jesus Name. Amen.

“And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”

In the church calendar, today is designated the First Sunday after Christmas Day.  We note that it is not just the first Sunday after Christmas, for we are still in the midst of the Twelve Days of Christmas, the Fifth day to be precise.  We have just celebrated with great joy the story of Mary and Joseph and the birth of the baby Jesus in a stable.  We have recalled once again how the cry of an infant shattered the stillness of that quiet night, and the world has never been the same. In the other gospels we hear the beautiful images of the manger and the shepherds and angels who surrounded Mary and Joseph at the birth of Jesus.  Today, however, the beautiful prologue invites us reflect once again upon what that holy night means.  It invites us to consider the world as both the earth that God created and  as the global community with whom God has spoken, and with whom God has worked since the beginning of time when the earth was formless and void  God counted the number of stars and called them all by their names.  God was at work before Adam named the animals of the field and the birds of the air. God said “Let there be light,” and God said that light was good.  The light shines in these December dark nights year after year, century after century.  It is the light of all the generations that have gone before us and of all the generations that will follow after us.  It is the light that lightens the darkness in this world.  It is the light that brings hope for all of God’s people.  As we hear in the Gospel today, 

 “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word with God, and the Word was God.  He was in the beginning with God.  All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.  What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”

There is a wonderful image that comes to my mind as I think about a light that shines in the darkness in our present time and in a particular place.  This past summer, Jeannie and I learned from two of our dear friends who summer onMartha’s Vineyard about The Children’s Memorial at the Edgartown Lighthouse.  This is a lighthouse that for many years has guided ships through the darkness and stormy waters into a safe harbor.  Some years ago, the parents of a teenager in Massachusetts whose life was tragically cut short in a car crash, established a memorial in which parents and grandparents could place an engraved cobblestone at the base of the lighthouse in memory of their beloved child or grandchild.   Now the memories of three loved ones of families of St. Mary’s have cobblestones placed at this memorial on the Vineyard.  Their memorials join hundreds of others as a beacon of light leading ships through the darkness and stormy waters  to safety much as the light of Christ leads us through the darkness and stormy waters of our lives until you and I reach our safe harbor.

 Today we hear once again the words that speak to us of God’s most precious gift, how God came to us and lived among us.   As in the hymn we sing

 “For he is our life-long pattern; daily when on earth he grew.
He was tempted , scorned, rejected, tears and smiles like us he knew.
Thus he feels for all our sadness, and he shares in all our gladness.”  (Hymn 102, stanza 4)

Let us simply embrace that gift, for it is our delight so to do, yet let us also embrace that gift for all that it means.

 As we have moved through these recent days together, the words of the Bidding Prayer that we heard last Sunday in the Festival of Lessons and Carols still echo in our ears, We heard, “…let us remember before God those who rejoice with us, but upon another shore and in a greater light, that multitude which no man can number, whose hope was in the word made flesh, and with whom we for evermore are one.”  That hope that comes to us in the light that ultimately cannot be extinguished.  All the darkness in this world cannot overcome this light.  Yes, to be sure, that notion of a light that brings hope that cannot be extinguished seems mightily hard at times for us to comprehend in a world where natural disaster, violence, evil, and hatred create untold devastation.  It is sometimes hard even to comprehend the manner in which God ultimately brings hope in the midst of human suffering.  There is no easy answer.  How, we ask, can a loving God allow such devastation, such evil to exist?  As hard a question as that may be, comfort and hope as well are to be found in the recognition that the light shines in the darkness and the darkness simply has not ever, and cannot ever overcome it.  God has always worked on behalf of humankind and God continues to be present among us in the midst of all.  God has lived among us as a person  and has shared in our joys and upheld us in our sorrows.  We are children of God and God’s beloved Son, in whose birth we rejoice in these days, and in whose birth God calls us to respond.  As God works among us in the midst of all that is good, God also works among us in the midst of all that is evil.  In so doing God calls you and me to respond both with delight in the good that exists in this world, and with the conviction to collaborate with God to fight against all that is evil. Our Christian faith and our delight in the gift of the Word that became flesh and dwelt among us is not only about loving Jesus and knowing God, it is about living out in our own lives the implications of that love and that knowledge.  As the church, which is the community that gathers around Jesus, we must never forget what we are here to do.  We are here with Jesus to help the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers be cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead be raised, and the poor receive the good news, and to do so as circumstances in our own day and time demand.   To work with God who became flesh and dwelt among us, we must not turn away in fear from our call to speak out against injustice when we see it, to contend against violence in whatever form it takes in the world around us wherever we see it.  God calls us as a community that lives out the life and promise of Jesus in the world, to be a people bringing good news in our own time to a world that, in so many ways, is in the grips of evil, hatred, and violence, violence against one another, and violence against our planet earth.

 We hear once again this morning of the vision of the prophet Isaiah, a vision in which God calls you and me and God’s people everywhere to participate.  Isaiah says,

 “…the Lord GOD will cause righteousness and praise to spring up before all nations.  For Zion’s sake I will not keep silent, and for Jerusalem’s sake I will not rest, until her vindication shines out like the dawn, and her salvation like a burning torch.”

 And this is where you and I share in the responsibility of that vision.  You and I, as ones who follow Jesus must stand with those in need and with those who are victims of violence.  There will be those times we must redouble our efforts and renew our conviction to speak out against injustice.  We must commit ourselves to encouraging one another and our leaders to do the right thing when it comes to seeking justice, to ending violence, and to preserving this fragile earth, our island home.  Let us never waiver in our pursuit to seek the truth, come whence it may, cost what it will.  Let us never keep silent when called to speak.  Let us never rest until vindication shines out like the dawn, to use the words of Isaiah.  We as human beings are precious.  Our lives and our relationships with one another in this world are precious. God’s creation is precious. You and I are steeped in, and surrounded by, things that are holy. These things are holy in ways we now can only begin to comprehend. We hear in our own day the voices of those such as that of Pope Francis who is carefully trying to steer the church to a better place than it has been for decades.  With his powerful example of Christ-like love and with his bold challenge to economic greed and to hatred, he is calling each of us to live out in our own lives that vision of a church that serves the poor and changes the world.  And of course his voice is being scorned and rejected from some quarters, as was Jesus’ voice in his own day, yet he has the courage, nonetheless, to be faithful to God’s word and to speak out.  Thanks be to God for that. And may you and I follow his example of courage to speak out against injustice whenever we encounter it.

 Today we hear once again the words that speak to us of God’s most precious gift. Let us simply embrace that gift, for it is our delight so to do, yet let us also embrace that gift for all that it means for us and let not fail do our part to work with God as God calls us so to do in our own day.

 And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.   Amen.

 A Sermon for Christmas Eve/Day 2013

by Eleanor Lee Wellford, Associate Rector

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has shined (Isaiah 9:2).

Are we a people walking in darkness or a people of the light?  And how do we know which we are?  

 This time of year when the nights outlast the days, we might be tempted to say that we are a people walking in darkness; yet we could also argue that we are people of the light compared to those living at the turn of the century before electricity had been invented.   

 And those same people at the turn of the century who didn’t know what they were missing, would have probably said that they were people of the light compared to the people living at the turn of the previous century.   

 So, the answer to the question is that it’s all relative – relative to where we have come from and to where we are going.  And I think change resulting from discoveries and inventions and innovations has a lot to do with whether we consider ourselves to be people walking in darkness or people of the light.

 Change, as we all know, is not always initially seen as a good thing.  Anyone who has been watching Downton Abbey – Masterpiece Theater’s addictively entertaining television series – knows that to be true.  It was a first season episode that portrayed a big change coming to Downton Abbey – the installation of electricity, something that was happening in the homes of only the very wealthy.  

 The dowager Countess named Violet, played to perfection by British actress Maggie Smith, was opposed to the change and in her characteristic way let her son, the Earl of Grantham, know.  Like many people of her day, she was suspicious of it and believed that electricity was going to leak out of the walls and sockets like an eerie vapor or ghost of some sort; and how, she asked her son, was she to sleep a wink with all that going on? 

So, as much as we might know with the benefit of hindsight how the invention of electricity helped transform us literally into people of the light, not everyone was willing to embrace the change.    

 The Israelites, who lived in the Northern Kingdom of Israel 700 or so years before Jesus was born, were experiencing a change – and certainly not one they wanted to embrace.  The Assyrians, who had a reputation for being utterly ruthless, were bearing down hard on them.

The capital of Nineveh was soon to be overthrown, which meant the Israelites were on the verge of being plunged into a deep darkness – and they had no idea why. 

After all, they were God’s chosen people, being descendants of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.  Didn’t they once thrive under the able leadership of the great King David, basking in the light of prosperity and security that he provided for them?  Where was the hope that they could ever return to such a life? 

I’m not sure there’s anything that makes us feel more like a people walking in darkness than having our hope taken away from us whether it’s from change we don’t think we need or understand or whether it’s from sadness or despair that seems impenetrable. 

Yet, one of the best known properties of light is its ability to penetrate and overcome darkness.  And in that respect, light has often been used as a metaphor for hope.  So has the expression “the light at the end of the tunnel.”

 The Israelites were living in that dark tunnel of existence when the prophet Isaiah spoke the words we just heard.  They spoke of a Savior who would come on their behalf and shoulder their burden and loosen their yoke of political bondage.  Those words were the ray of light that seeped through the crack in the closed and locked door of despair. 

 Another property of light is that even the smallest or dimmest light can make a difference in our lives.  My husband, Tenny, and I found that out two weeks ago when we were waiting at the Richmond airport to board a 9:40 morning flight to Atlanta followed by a 12:10 connecting flight to Nashville to see our younger daughter.

 At 9:15 when boarding was supposed to start we were told that there was a mechanical failure with our plane and that departure would be delayed.  About ten minutes later we were told that an actual part had fallen off of the plane and that the replacement part would have to be flown in from Detroit and then be installed.  Minimum time of the delay would be 3 hours.  That meant missed connections in Atlanta for just about everyone on that plane. 

 As you might imagine, the scene at the gate was chaotic as people scrambled to make changes to their travel plans.  The ground crew patiently helped the mob scene and one of them apologized for something that in all of his 22 years with the airline, he had never encountered before.  He said that it would be legally impossible for the plane to fly without that part, which made me think it was a crucial part of the engine or maybe landing gear.  Yet, it wasn’t that at all.  The missing part was a light, that little wingtip light that hardly any passenger notices.

It’s actually a navigation light and it signals to the pilot the position of other planes flying nearby.  That light becomes particularly important at night in determining the direction and right of way when paths of aircraft cross.  So, the lowliest of airplane parts – a simple light – served as an important safety feature for all of us ready to board that plane, and once installed, restored hope that we would finally all get to where we had planned on going.

The Israelites obviously needed more than a wingtip light to have their hope restored or to show them the way forward.  They needed a sign that their God was still with them.  

 So, when they heard the voice of Isaiah proclaiming that a child had been born for them, they took that birth as the sign they were hoping for – the sign of God’s saving activity on their behalf.  And as Isaiah told them, this child would grow in authority, with endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom.  This sign would transform them from a people walking in darkness to a people of the light.  News of the birth of a lowly baby would do that for them. 

And the birth of Baby Jesus does that for us which gives us much to celebrate this day.  John knew that when he wrote in the prologue of his gospel: “What has come into being in him was life and the life was the light of all people.  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” (John 1:3-4).

Bask in the beauty and light of this birth and revel in its glory and feel it quicken our hearts.  And may it be for all of us that same beacon of hope that was promised by Isaiah so many years ago – the hope that will transform us from whatever darkness may be surrounding us this day into the people of the light that God has always meant for us to be.  Merry Christmas!

A Sermon for the 3rd Sunday of Advent

 Year A – 15 December 2013

 John Edward Miller, Rector

 When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: 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. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”

As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: “What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written,

‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you,
who will prepare your way before you.’

Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.”  – Matthew 11:2-11

  The Collect

Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us; and, because we are sorely hindered by our sins, let your bountiful grace and mercy speedily help and deliver us; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom, with you and the Holy Spirit, be honor and glory, now and for ever. Amen.

When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”

 It’s remarkable that Matthew’s gospel includes this question. John’s query is surprising because, according to the story, he had already gotten confirmation that Jesus was the Messiah – the anointed one. Matthew had made that explicit in an earlier scene, when Jesus presented himself to John for baptism. John balked when he saw him, and protested that the roles should be reversed. He said that Jesus should be the one doing the baptizing, not him. However, Jesus insisted that it was proper for John to do the honors for now, and the Baptist relented. Then after John baptized Jesus in the Jordan River, “the heavens were opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending on him like a dove, and alighting on him; and lo, a voice from heaven, saying, ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.’”[1] Unless Jesus alone saw and heard all of that drama, you’d think that for John the die was cast. This was it – the time he and everyone in Israel had been awaiting for centuries. Emmanuel had come.

For Matthew it was clear that Jesus was the Messiah. The whole purpose of his gospel account is to convince others that he was the long-awaited Redeemer. And yet he thought it important to record John’s moment of hesitation about the Messiah for people like us to read and understand two thousand years later. That makes it significant, and our quest this morning is to think about its meaning for us, as well as for those who were looking long ago for the advent of God’s Messiah.

This was the question’s context: John the Baptist was in prison awaiting his fate. Meanwhile word reached him that Jesus had launched his ministry, choosing twelve disciples, instructing them, and speaking publicly about the nearness of the kingdom of heaven. This news struck John deeply, so from his cell the imprisoned prophet considered the meaning of these events. He sent his own disciples to Jesus, asking the probing question: was he the one to come, or should he expect another to appear.

What a curious question. Why did John, who baptized Jesus and witnessed his anointing by the Spirit, send that inquiry? Was he having second thoughts? Was he worried about what he was hearing about Jesus’ message? Or was he just hedging his bets?

Jesus’ response to John’s question showed no irritation. Indeed there was little if any emotion in the Messiah’s reply. He would rest his case on the facts instead of his pride, saying, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: 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. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.” In other words, Jesus simply wanted John to know that God was at work in him and through him. He was God’s servant, caring for the outcasts, healing their wounds, and bringing the people to life. That was sufficient evidence for Jesus that his vocation was real. He hoped that John would embrace what he was doing, and rest in peace.

The text reminds us that John the Baptist was a prophet. His life was edgy to say the least. Existing on locusts and wild honey, and wearing a scratchy garment made of camel’s skin, he preached a message that made people’s hair stand on end. That’s because he was proclaiming that the end of age was imminent, and it was high time for the people to shape up, confess their sin, and prepare for the coming apocalypse. John walked the line, the thin edge, between time and eternity. He was certain that his mission was to be the vanguard for the approaching Messiah. He was used to looking every waking minute for the one to come. It was almost as if his vigilance about the end was endless. Even the presence of Jesus did not quell his heightened sense of anticipation.   

Our family pet, Walter the wonder dog, is 14 years old. But it’s difficult to see that because he’s so youthful and animated. I love returning home and having him greet me. Walter rushes up and does a little dance, wagging his tail and lifting his front paws off the floor. He then looks into my eyes, licks his chops, and pants, watching my every move. The reason why Walter is so excited about my homecoming is that he genuinely likes me. But more than that, he regards me as “food source number 1.” And by that I mean extra food, over and above his regular meal. I admit that I have fed him goodies from the dinner table. Mea culpa: I’m guilty. He’s such a great companion that I want to keep him happy. The problem is he has no sense of reaching his limit, or when dinner is over. Walter puts on a bit of a plaintive whimper, and reminds me of his presence by pawing my leg. I can show him my empty plate, and empty hands, and say, “All done,” but he maintains an eager look of hope. Walter believes. He expects more, always. And he’s usually right. I’m an easy touch, and he knows it. 

When people brought their children to Jesus so that he could lay hands upon them and pray, the disciples rebuked them for this intrusion on their master’s time. Jesus, however, knew better. He said, “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them; for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.” Mark’s version of the same scene adds that Jesus said, “Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” Then he took them up in his arms and blessed them.[2] The message is that children have a quality that makes them especially receptive to God’s presence and influence in their life. Many think that it is there innocence, but experience tells us that isn’t the case. If you’ve ever worked with a group of children, you will understand. William Golding wasn’t making it up when he wrote Lord of the Flies. What hinders us as adults is there from the beginning. Following too much the devices and desires of the heart, and offending against holy laws, is a trait that matures with age, but it is not acquired along the way. Self-interest is inherent to our kind, old or young.

 So what is it about children that Jesus praises? What quality gives them an advantage with respect to entering God’s kingdom? Well, I believe that it’s the same thing that my pal Walter has – namely, their expectancy.

Have you ever wondered why the children’s service of lessons and carols on Christmas Eve is so popular? Every year the attendance at the service is as large as Easter, and maybe that’s the point. Like Easter, the children’s service is flooded with hope. The children, whether they are portraying the holy family, serving as shepherds, sheep, magi, or choristers, are expectant. They trust that something wonderful is in store for them, and they are right. They are on the cusp of Christmas.

And, in a way, children always are. Perhaps it is their proximity to their own birth that makes the connection to the baby born in Bethlehem so immediate and fresh. Maybe it is their dependence on their mother and father that renders them so open, and ready to receive what Advent promises, and delivers. Whatever it is that prepares them to regard that holy night with expectancy, children’s faces radiate an awe that inspires the rest of us to believe what they believe is about to happen. That’s why there is standing room only at that cherished service. We hope that what they have is contagious, and lasting, because the world in which we live has sufficient harshness and pain to dampen hope and harden hearts.  

One of the strongest and most prevalent themes in Scripture is that God is gracious. That great truth is the foundation of our relationship with God and with one another. Grace is something that we can count on always, for God’s goodness and mercy is everlasting. Some of God’s creatures sense that truth more readily than others. Being open, remaining attentive, and trusting the power of grace enhances the ability to live into it. The Shakers made this very connection in the words of their lovely hymn, “Simple gifts,” which begins:

‘Tis the gift to be simple, ‘tis the gift to be free
‘Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
‘Twill be in the valley of love and delight.[3]

 Their hope was that the uncomplicated life may be the access to the kingdom of heaven. Grace is the simplest and the most precious of God’s gifts. Even though it cannot be earned, or purchased, or merited, grace is God’s continuous offer to us. Advent eyes see its power at work.

John the Baptist had those eyes. Even in the darkness of his prison cell, he could see the dawning of God’s gracious light. John wasn’t dubious, he was expectant. He wasn’t looking past Jesus to find someone more suited to being the Messiah than he. John was anxious to get on with it. Jesus understood, and he loved the man who had prepared the way for the Messiah. John was looking into the future with expectancy. The report that he got from his disciples was that it had begun.

May the God of grace give us eyes to see, and to believe, that the one who was to come is with us – now and forever. Amen.

A Sermon for the Second Sunday of Advent
Year A – December 8, 2013

David H. Knight, Priest Associate

Send your spirit God to open our hearts and our minds to your word, and strengthen us to live according to your will, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

“In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near.” This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said,

 ‘The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord. Make his paths straight.’”  Matthew 3:1-3

For the years since we returned from Dallas Jeannie and I have enjoyed gathering at Thanksgiving with our youngest son at his wife’s family’s lovely home in Bethesda. Our other sons and their families are usually there too. It is always a wonderful time with family and of course a time to feast in a manner which is totally inconsistent with my low sodium regimen—so many choices of dessert, so little time.  You know how that goes.  In past years, it wasn’t until Friday morning after Thanksgiving that we noticed the long lines as we drove by the shopping malls in Bethesda, but this year Black Friday had taken on a new pernicious twist.  Stores have done away with the one last holiday of the year that was about family and community.  Christmas has long been commercialized beyond any recognition of its original meaning, yet now even on Thanksgiving Day, we can spend the day over at the shopping mall where we no longer have to make small talk over the stuffing and gravy with relatives.   Thanks to our culture that now willingly submits to the enticement of the retail industry, we can now spend the whole day of Thanksgiving beginning at Best Buy purchasing a flat screen TV and then going home to watch football, being totally free of any human interaction at all.   But as Eleanor reminded us in her sermon last Sunday as we began this holy season, “The truth us, the retail industry doesn’t do that to us, we do that to ourselves.  We let ourselves be manipulated into believing that we will somehow fall short of providing a storybook Christmas for our families.”

 In this season of Advent, the Church finds itself, in a manner of speaking, in a kind of wilderness in our culture as it is.  Today more and more, the church’s traditional observance of Advent stands in tension with contemporary culture. Just as you and I can sometimes feel we are in a wilderness when surrounded by a crowd of people, so the church is in a wilderness in the midst of our frenetic holiday season. On the one hand, the Church over the centuries has come to appreciate the need that Christians have to contemplate what God has done for us in sending Jesus into our midst as an infant to take upon himself our nature, yet, on the other hand facing the church’s traditional call for Advent preparation is met with the enticements of our secular, consumer oriented culture and our social busyness filled with parties and such often making us exhausted by the time Christmas Day arrives. Then it’s over.  Whatever happened to the 12 Days of Christmas which begin on Christmas Eve? 

 How different is the preparation to which John the Baptist calls the people of Israel.  In today’s gospel reading, John the Baptist calls upon us to examine our ways in such a manner that we make ourselves ready for the coming of the infant Jesus into our midst. In this season, we hear the call to prepare the way of the Lord, to make his paths straight. John reminds us that rather than basking prematurely in holiday cheer, we might well examine ourselves in order that we might discern how we can bear good fruit.  He says, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near.”  The very notion of repentance for many conjures up feeling sorry for our misdeeds and the call from God to shape up for fear of God’s wrath. Repentance for many reminds us of our guilt, but what John and what Advent reminds us is that repentance is not about guilt but rather about God’s desire to find us in a place where we are in accord with the life of Jesus. It is about God’s power to transform our lives into the image of Christ.  Advent is indeed a season in which, as we observe it with faithfulness, finds us in a wilderness because it calls us to be in contradiction to the hype and business of this time of year in our culture.  In this season of what is intended to be quiet preparation, God promises to keep pointing the way ahead for us and for the church.

 Sometimes a I drive I listen to the local “Big Oldies” stations—makes me relive memories of days of yore, but one afternoon in late November I had to switch channels as the Christmas carols on that Tuesday before Thanksgiving brought out the Scrooge in me big time and made me grumpy.  I quickly switched to NPR.  By good fortune, I came in on a news commentary about Pope Francis’s very recent proclamation titled Evangelii Gaudium, or, the “Joy of the Gospel.”  In the commentary there was discussion centering around pieces of what the pope said.  I became very interested in what he had to say and later explored excerpts of the actual document posted on the internet. What I read in the pope’s proclamation I found to be very uplifting as well as appropriate for this Advent season even though it was not written directly to the season of Advent alone.  He calls us to remember that following Jesus is intended to be a joy. He then went on to talk about his vision of the church which, since he has become pope, he has often said has lost its way. What he said about his vision for the church is profound: He says, “I prefer a church which is bruised, hurting, and dirty because it has been out in the streets, rather than a church which is unhealthy from being confined and from clinging to its own security.”  He spoke of how our economic system has lost not only its way but its values.  “How can it be,” he asks, “that it is not a news item when an elderly homeless person dies of exposure, but it is news when the stock market loses two points?” The Very Reverend Gary Hall, Dean of the Washington National Cathedral in his sermon last Sunday as Advent began, put it this way about what the pope is saying, and not only to Roman Catholics, but to all Christians. What Dean Hall proclaimed in his sermon last week bears repeating on this Second Sunday of Advent as well: He said, “The real wakeup story of Evangelii Gaudium is the way it calls us both forward and back to what Christianity is all about. ‘The joy of the gospel fills the hearts and lives of all who encounter Jesus,’ says Francis. ‘Those who accept his offer of salvation are set free from sin, sorrow, inner emptiness, and loneliness. With Christ, joy is constantly born anew.’”

 As John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of his day and told the people of Judea to wake up, repent and be ready, so Pope Francis is calling us in this Advent season to wake up as well.  Jesus comes to us again and again as prophet, as teacher, and as an infant in the manger, and as judge. As Jesus comes to us in these encounters, you and I will know love and justice. We will know a peace which the world cannot give. We will know forgiveness.  We will know blessing, and above all, deep joy and hope. Our encounters as Jesus comes to us will be encounters for which we will do well to keep awake in anticipation.

 Once again on this Second Sunday of Advent, we hear the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: “Prepare the way of the Lord. Make his paths straight.”  The wilderness in which that voice speaks is the wilderness in which you and I can find ourselves when we let all the trappings of this time of year engulf us.  The challenge and the opportunity before us is to find our own quiet, still place in the midst of all these holiday trappings so that we can prepare ourselves once again for the coming of the Christ Child into our midst.  You may well discover your own ways to find that still, quiet space and the first step is to make space.  Donald Postema, in his book, Space for God, writes about making that space not only in ourselves,  but in our schedules to receive the love of God.  Here at St. Mary’s there are offerings that you might find helpful.  One will take place next Saturday, December 14, from 9:30 ‘til noon when there will be A Quiet Morning in the Old Parish Hall which will center around Celtic Spirituality in Advent.  Then, each Wednesday at 5:30 during Advent there is something that remains one of St. Mary’s best kept secrets, though it’s posted in the calendar, but I simply want to tell you what it has meant to me to take advantage myself of this offering. It is simply called “Be Still.”  A small group led by one of our own meets in Little St. Mary’s for one half hour of centering prayer—actually it’s 25 minutes.  After we are led in a very brief meditation, we simply sit quietly for twenty minutes.  We close with the Lord’s Prayer and depart.  It’s that simple, that brief.  It is hard to put into words, yet let me tell you what a gift that is after a busy day.  5:30 might or might not be the best time of day for you, but if you can come, you are most welcome.  My point simply is this: the discipline of taking time at some point in the day to sit quietly is a gift. 

 And so once again we hear these words, “Prepare the way of the Lord. Make his paths straight.”

 My prayer for each of us is that you and I may find a balance between the duties we have in this busy time of year that we may make time in our hearts and in our schedules during this holy season for God’s gift in waiting patiently for the coming of the Christ Child.  May God’s vision for us and for the church be part of our Advent journey and may we ever remain hopeful in God’s promise to us.

  Make ye straight what long was crooked,
make the rougher places plain;
let (our) hearts be true and humble,
as befits his holy reign.
For the glory of the Lord
now o’er earth is shed abroad;
and all flesh shall see the token
that the word is never broken.

Hymn 67  – third stanza

                                    Amen.