[Propertalk] 3 Advent b rcl

[robertpmorrison at charter.net]

Here's my draft for this Sunday.  I hope everyone is enjoying Advent 8 - 
)

Bob


THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH OF ST. ALBAN, ALBANY       	          THE THIRD 
SUNDAY OF ADVENT – B
ISAIAH 61:1-4, 8-11	 	           		          	              	 
11th DECEMBER, 2011
1 THESSALONIANS 5:16-24						               PSALM 126
JOHN 1:6-8, 19-28						

	We get so hung up on what we believe is the only option – in life; in 
interpretation of a comment; of how something may appear; in a 
relationship – sometimes we get so hung up even on what we read and hear 
in the Bible, that our minds and hearts miss other possibilities.

	We hear, “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me – anointed me – 
oppressed – brokenhearted – liberty – release …” and immediately we say 
“Jesus”. And we’d be right. In the synagogue in Capernaum He picked out 
the scroll of Isaiah, read these words, and said, “Today, you’ve seen 
this come to pass right in front of your eyes.”

	Of course, Isaiah’s prophecy can be applied with accuracy to Jesus. End 
of story.

	Or is it? Have we closed our minds to the possibility that God is never 
restricted to one person, to one moment in time, to one location – even 
if one of these IS Jesus?

	Isaiah’s prophecy doesn’t say, “Come on over here and I’ll cure your 
shingles; I’ll get your relative out of jail; I’ll do this or that.” 
Isaiah is simply the messenger. Like so many of God’s agents through 
creation, God uses all sorts of people to point beyond themselves, to 
point to another who has a different gift than being prophetic, to point 
to a healer. Just because Isaiah isn’t a healer, however, doesn’t make 
his work any less significant, his vocation any less hard and 
noteworthy. He was talking to folk who were at their wit’s end. They’d 
hit bottom in every aspect of their lives. Families had been torn apart, 
homes taken over by strangers. All sorts of pressures were eating away 
the social, religious and cultural structures to the point that the 
people’s identities were being disintegrated. They didn’t have the 
freedom to make both the courageous mistakes and experience the bold 
successes to which God was hoping that they’d aspire. So God sent 
another prophet into their midst – or rather, God raised up a prophet 
FROM within their midst – one of their own – through whom Good News of 
comfort and joy would be offered.

	The news was that exile doesn’t last forever, not then, not now. Abuse, 
being demeaned, being made to feel incapable of doing anything 
worthwhile – NO abuse lasts forever. God will ALWAYS be present during 
all of that and will go through the experience of breaking out into the 
sunlight with us. As the opening of today’s psalm puts it, “When the 
Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, then were we like those who dream. 
Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of 
joy.”

	When we take as God’s unbreakable word the promise that God will never 
be absent from us, AND that our dreams of release from whatever gets us 
down and holds us back, whatever prevents us from using the last ounce 
of every gift with which God has blessed us; when we hear and accept 
that every last one of us WILL break out into the sunlight of God’s 
reign here on earth, then we can start rejoicing right now. Our hopes 
WILL be fulfilled.

	The good news is simply that neither disease, nor abuse, nor 
imprisonment of whatever nature – nothing can keep us from celebrating 
life as God’s children. We’ll ALL find release.

	But there’s a price for this release. On us who receive this promise of 
renewal, of coming out of the tunnel of darkness, on us falls the 
responsibility of dismantling every system which cripples even one of 
our sisters and brothers. We do this because we ourselves have all 
experienced at least some of the darkness, and it’s our duty to make 
sure that no one else has to go through that pain. Certainly, no one is 
to go through it alone. God doesn’t want ANY of us to suffer.

	On Thursday I heard a radio programme about life in Lapland at this 
time of year – when the sun doesn’t rise above the horizon.

“In summer the sun barely sets, bringing long nights of partying and 
heavy drinking. But in Lapland, as winter closes in, the lights go on, 
not to be extinguished until the sun finally begins to rise again above 
the horizon nearly three months later. Some find the seemingly endless 
darkness forbidding, but others find it comforting, enjoying the way the 
starry blackness allows their minds to play over thoughts of the 
infinite ...” 1

Isn’t that what Advent is about – contemplating the infinite; trying to 
convince ourselves not only to have hope, but that we’re NOT crazy to 
imagine that God’s love and compassion for us in unending and is so 
personal. Sometimes, though, we’re knee deep in extra newspaper 
supplements, and catalogues, and wrapping paper that may or may not 
quite fit around the box in the middle of the living room – and ribbon 
that trips us up while we walk back and forth. The closest we may get to 
spiritual is the sotto-voce expression we form as we discover the store 
is out of the very thing we thought would be perfect – possibly a 
mature, fifteen-year-old fruitcake. By the way, I LOVE fruitcake!

“One of the sad things about big cities,” said a Lapland woman 
interviewed for the programme, “is that (cities) never sleep. They never 
rest. They’re busy all the time. Human beings get exhausted of they 
don’t have time for rest.  We need both the darkness and the light for 
our bodies, for our minds, for our spirits. Without rest, we use 
ourselves out. When it’s dark we have to cool down, take it easy, take a 
rest, and give time for ourselves, and then when we are strong again, 
there is time in the light for enjoying activities. Human beings don’t 
stay in good condition without rest.”

	Even if we DO have hope – and most of us seem to be able to find some 
of that to buoy up our lives, no matter how foggy things seem – even if 
we DO have hope, we need to try to foster an atmosphere in which we can 
actually listen to the words of Isaiah and John the Baptist.

A couple of other quotes remind us of this. Another radio commentator, 
in a discussion talking about music and the symphonic tradition since 
1945, said “We live in an age in which it’s harder and harder to 
concentrate …” 2 There’s just so much going on and – this may be an 
admission of advancing age, I don’t know – I find myself less and less 
able to engage in the multi-taking that was possible not that long ago. 
I used to be able to listen to one thing, watch another, and work away 
at a third project – and I might even have been able to work on two or 
three things at once. Now, however, possibly a good sign actually, I 
have to concentrate on one, or at most, two things at a time if I hope 
to get either of the projects completed in a reasonably satisfactory 
manner.

	The second quote comes from a Roman Catholic priest in Columbus, Ohio. 
He wrote, “Christians are a little bit countercultural when it comes to 
Advent. When much of the secular world is busy celebrating Christmas 
right now ... we’re busy being thoughtful and meditative and quietly 
joyful in getting ready for Christmas.” 3

If, then, we want not only to take Isaiah and John seriously, but want 
to give what they say time to become part of our daily living, then we 
HAVE to slow down, to stop even, to listen.

I have to admit a pet peeve. If I’m listening to music – no matter where 
– and someone starts to sing along with it, it becomes really 
distracting. It takes away the possibility of any originality of the 
person playing or singing the music from reaching me, from speaking to 
me in a way that I may actually be needing to hear it. It discounts the 
possibility that God may be using one voice to bring about renewal not 
just to me, but to many, if not all.

  Of course, there IS a time and place for singing out loud; but not all 
the time.

When the lector in church, or anyone else reading – no matter what the 
source – if we talk through it, imagining that we’ve already heard what 
Isaiah said, or Lincoln delivered; if we turn away to read the paper; or 
run to the fridge for another beer; when someone is delivering words of 
one kind or another, it’s our responsibility to listen in as fresh a way 
as we can.

Yes, Isaiah lived twenty-six hundred years ago, and John the Baptist two 
thousand, but we’re never past the stage of having our lives transformed 
day by what they said in their own day. One of the driving forces behind 
what we call Holy Scripture is that it speaks to every age. That’s what 
makes the message of hope so timely. No matter what’s going on – who’s 
sick; who’s tired; who’s frustrated; who’s desperate because no solution 
seems in sight – no matter what’s going on, we’re reminded this morning 
that we can actually rejoice in a quiet, simple, possibly introspective 
way right now because we’ve been reminded that God is never absent. And 
what strikes me so strongly is that God always brings to me the very 
person I need to meet, God presents hope; God, personifies love; God 
brings us that longed-for healing touch through people whom we thought 
were simply spectators around us – but were and are really prophetic 
angels.

	That’s what I meant by the opening comment about whether we may have 
closed our minds to the possibility that God is never restricted to one 
person, to one moment in time, to one location – even if one of these IS 
Jesus?

	A short while ago I received an e-mail which asked for financial help. 
I’m sure we’re all getting these, especially at
this time of year. Yet this one struck a chord. It made me go back to 
re-read the Isaian and Johannine passages again. Maybe the e-mail was 
written by someone cleverly using scriptural ideas, but isn’t that what 
we’re supposed to be aware of? Isn’t this what both the prophets would 
want us to do, especially as we think about being half way through 
Advent?

	Here’s how the e-mail began:

	“As we near the end of 2011, I want to thank you for brightening lives 
by connecting with your community when it mattered most. I hope you and 
your family felt illuminated by your (***) experience.

	“Our mission is to amplify love, hope and compassion in the world. I am 
fortunate to see this happening every day, because of the support of a 
grateful, engaged community.” 4

	I really wonder if we can become fully engaged, however, if we don’t 
quiet down – even for four weeks. An Op-Ed in The New York Times this 
past week began, “Hello chatter, my old friend.” I’m not quite as 
pessimistic as the writer sounded when she continued, “The sounds of 
silence are a dim recollection now, like mystery, privacy and paying 
attention to one thing — or one person — at a time.” She DID make a 
great point, though, when she warned, “There will be fewer and fewer of 
what Virginia Woolf called ‘moments of being,’ intense sensations that 
stand apart from the ‘cotton wool of daily life.’” 5

	Surely we have enough cotton wool. What we all want, what we all need, 
what we’ve all been promised, is the healing, and release, and comfort, 
and joy described by God’s prophets. But that DOES take time and energy. 
It also takes an openness to the possibility that God may be bringing 
about change for our lives. And as a lesser-known prophet once remarked, 
“The only person who appreciates change is a wet baby.”

	Go figure – that’s exactly whom we’re waiting for!

NOTES:

1 	Quote and paraphrase of “The Light in the Darkness” BBC Radio 3 about 
Winter in Lapland. http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b017mt51

2	http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b017lylx

3	Rev. Stanley Benecki, pastor of St. Mary Magdalene Catholic Church on 
the Hilltop, Columbus OH. – via Sojourners & Columbus Dispatch

4	CaringBridge at www.CaringBridge.com

5	OP-ED COLUMNIST “Silence Is Golden” By MAUREEN DOWD Published: 
December 6, 2011
 
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/12/07/opinion/dowd-silence-is-golden.html?nl=todaysheadlines&emc=tha212


Robert P Morrison
Interim Vicar
The Episcopal Church of St Alban
PO Box 1556
Albany OR  97321   541-921-1076 (cell)