[Propertalk] 2 advent b

robertpmorrison at charter.net robertpmorrison at charter.net
Sat Dec 6 17:02:07 EST 2014


well, off to have lunch ... probably not dead flies....

Bob


THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH OF ST. ALBAN, ALBANY				               2nd ADVENT B
ISAIAH 40:1-11 						                         7th DECEMBER, 2014
2 PETER 3:8- 15a						  	     PSALM 85:1-2, 8-13
MARK 1:1-8

	“Play it so that flies drop dead in mid-air, and the audience start 
leaving the hall from sheer boredom.”  1

	You might imagine that statement came from the acidic pen of critic 
intent on demeaning the work of one composer or another, but it was, 
actually, written by the composer himself about one of his own works.

	Dmitri Shostakovich 2 lived through the first three quarters of the 
twentieth century, in a time when there was incredible social and 
political upheaval, not only in his own country, Russia, but throughout 
the entire world. Dictatorships abounded, with different people 
imagining that they knew exactly what was best for everyone else. No one 
was content with such territory as that in which they lived or over 
which they had control. Leaders scrambled for power for themselves, 
their families and their close friends. Anything that threatened their 
grasp on that power, therefore, was to be obliterated, whether it came 
through another politician, a scientist, a cleric, a painter, a 
dramatist, a composer of music – anyone who stood in the way, who 
uttered a comment, who wrote, painted or sang; anything of that nature 
was to be quashed immediately.

	Shostakovich knew this first hand. He lived day to day, writing music 
from his heart and then, from time to time, censoring it with his brain. 
“At the height of the Cold War, it was fashionable among Western critics 
to denigrate Shostakovich. He was, they claimed, a banal and morally 
weak composer who had been forced to sacrifice his creative 
individuality in order to survive the oppressive demands of the Soviet 
system. Yet what is perhaps most remarkable about Shostakovich’s music 
is its striking individuality. As a spokesman for the oppressed Soviet 
people, Shostakovich forged a unique musical language drawing heavily 
upon images of brutal irony, hysterical anger, bitter introspection and 
mock optimism.” 3

	Reading these words of and about Shostakovich I hear echoes of John the 
Baptist, of Isaiah. The biblical figures were caught in similarly 
dangerous, mind-numbing situations. They faced institutions that cared 
for nothing except their own self-preservation. Those in power didn’t 
want to consider the possibility that power was given to be shared; that 
power wasn’t given for the perpetuation of one individual or group. And 
there were times when those institutions and people had so played their 
cards that they found themselves in trouble, along with everyone else.

	Hebrew people throughout Babylon were crying out in despair. They’d 
been betrayed by their own leaders; the Babylonians had preyed on the 
weak-mindedness of those on charge, and moved in. But it was the common 
people – those who had market gardens, who raised a few sheep and 
chickens, who cleaned house and cooked for those who desired and could 
afford to live on a higher level than the majority – it was they who 
paid the greater price. They couldn’t even try to buy their way out of 
any trouble. And all were taken off into exile where anything which 
could give a sense of comfort, of hope, of self-dignity was stomped down 
– just like in the Gulags which populated the outer regions of Russia. 
There was a drabness, a lack of anything which might bring warmth and 
colour to the peoples’ imaginations and hearts.

	Babylon, Israel, Russia and places more recent and closer to home, 
possibly even in our own lives - it was the same story over and over 
again. People longed for freedom, for acknowledgement as human beings of 
worth. They wished they could use the gifts with which they’d been 
blessed. They hoped that someone or something would come along which 
would free them from whatever they felt was trapping them. And God heard 
then as God hears now. Witnesses slowly appeared, people willing to 
stand with them; people willing to listen to others and to intuit what 
God wished to say to that precise situation and moment.

	Then, as now, some of those witnesses can be troubling. The problem is, 
they speak the truth, they demand action and they call for commitment 
and response from the people. Just as the witnesses take a risk by 
standing to speak in the midst of the downtrodden and the oppressed, so 
they call forth from these people a trust that hope WILL be fulfilled.

	It must have taken a great deal of courage on Isaiah’s and John’s part, 
but they themselves became convinced that God had not left and turned 
out the lights. From someplace – either from deep within themselves, or 
from something, someone outside of themselves – some sign came to them 
which gave THEM hope for themselves, and then hope to share with those 
who felt that they’d been abandoned.

	Tom Brackett, a Missioner who works through The Episcopal Church Center 
in New York, and who lives in North Carolina, wrote, last Tuesday, “It 
wasn’t the stewardess who offered to hang up my coat in the first class 
closet even though I was in coach; it wasn’t the police officer who 
offered to help change my tire after diverting traffic for me on the 
crazy traffic exit ramp into Baltimore; it wasn’t even the National 
Rental agent who drove all the way out to exchange my car for an upgrade 
– not even that made my day. It was the young teenage girl who kept 
smiling at me through tears and then asked if she could give me a hug. 
When I turned to her mother and whispered, ‘Is it OK?’ it was her 
response that made my day. She said, ‘She has Autism.’  I nodded but 
then she rocked me when she said,  ‘You look just like her dad. He died 
in Afghanistan two years ago. She misses him.’ She nodded. This 
beautiful young adult hugged me. I had to cry with her. And yet ... and 
yet ... of all the things that could have happened to me on this 2nd of 
December, THAT made my day. I hope that the father of this beautiful 
young being smiled, wherever he is.” 4

	THAT was the release from imprisoning sadness that that young teenager 
needed. THAT, no doubt, was the release that the girl’s mother could 
appreciate. And THAT gave release, gave hope, gave meaning to Tom 
Brackett also.

	Isaiah, John the Baptist, Tom Brackett – the list can and must go on 
and on, the list of those who speak and act out a word of hope, a 
gesture of understanding and compassion, and who themselves are filled 
with the presence of God in the midst of the mundane, if not disturbing 
and terrifying aspects of  each day. It’s so easy to give in to 
tiredness and depression when people say rude or mean things to us, 
never mind threaten us with harm.

	To counter this, though, Dmitri Shostakovich responded, “When (someone) 
is in despair, it means that he (or she) still believes in something.” 
5

	Think about that. When the Hebrews called out from Babylon; when John 
the Baptist and those listening to him called out; when Shostakovich 
called out – each them called because they felt, they believed, that 
there was someone listening, there was someone who cared, there was 
someone to whom the very act of expressing anguish would make a 
difference and elicit a response. And God DID respond – not always in 
the instant that the people expected, but always there was a sign, a 
word, even if it was “Not yet. Have faith.” That’s probably how we’ve 
experienced God’s grace. I know that that’s how it’s happened in my 
life. Someone has shown up, done something, said something, more than 
likely complete natural, possibly unthought-through, something which has 
been filled to the brim with comfort.

	One of the problems, though, as I’m sure we’ve all experienced, is that 
comfort may mean different things to different people, and we need to 
dig deeply to find that fragment of belief in a caring God who WILL 
respond. Then, when the response comes, it may seem so strange, so 
foreign.

	The strange words of Shostakovich which I quoted at the opening of the 
sermon speak to me about the sort of thing which prophets might wish. 
“Flies dropping in mid-air and the audience start to leave” – the voice 
of God to any and every situation in life, spoken both comfortingly and 
brazenly, with no hint of hesitation; the voice of God with such power 
in and out of season; the voice of God to startle the complacent as well 
as those who feel that no one would ever talk to them; the voice of God 
stirring up hope in the midst of everything that troubles us. And 
sometimes that voice can be incredibly startling, can make us and others 
SO uncomfortable, because it’s not what we expect or think we want to 
hear – SO uncomfortable, SO unexpected, that it makes flies drop from 
the air, it makes people back away and leave the room, because of some 
inability to imagine what comfort we need.

	That’s one of the difficulties in which we find ourselves from time to 
time, and if not we ourselves, personally, then our neighbours, wherever 
they are in the world. There are wildernesses, devoid of compassion and 
comfort, all over the place.

When was the last time you wondered whether you’d wither for the lack of 
assurance of respect, or affirmation, or love? If you’ve been blessed, 
perhaps it’s not been you in that wilderness. But perhaps it was your 
neighbour, a neighbour who needed such a strong word that no one should 
live in fear, strong enough, possibly, to disturb us, But then, that’s 
what prophets do. They talk about making changes, about how WE have to 
make the changes in everything that we do, to discover just who needs to 
be comforted, and how.

It could be as simple as learning the story of someone who feels 
trapped, like the young woman whom Tom Brackett met; it could be as 
simple as not allowing ourselves to be paralysed by some of the things 
we see on TV or read in the paper. It just might be, as Rabbi Abraham 
Heschel said, that we have to find in ourselves that spark of belief 
which allows us “to live life in radical amazement. ....get up in the 
morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. 
Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life 
casually. To be spiritual,” said Heschel, “is to be amazed.” 6

God give us grace to be willing and able to hear the prophetic voices in 
our midst. God give us the grace to BE that prophetic voice for others, 
wherever they are in their wildernesses. God give us the grace to 
remember, as the prophet Nelson Mandela said, “It always seems 
impossible until it is done”, something we can repeat about bringing 
comfort, and hope to all in creation. God give us grace so to live and 
speak that even flies will drop from the sky in amazement, no matter 
that some will always leave the room. Even ONE fly …

NOTES:

  1 	Dmitri Shostakovich in 1975 on his Violin Sonata 
http://www.classical-music.com/article/11-important-shostakovich-quotes

2	25 September 1906 – 9 August 1975.

3	“Dmitri Shostakovich” Erik Levi	BBC Music Magazine on line 
http://www.classical-music.com/topic/dmitri-shostakovich

4	Quoted on Facebook, December 2 at 3:35pm. See 
https://www.facebook.com/ecctombrackett

5	“Testimony” (1979) a posthumously published memoir supposedly dictated 
by Shostakovich in private conversations with the journalist Solomon 
Volkov. Its authenticity has been hotly disputed. English quotations and 
page-numbers here are taken from the translation by Antonina W. Bouis 
(New York: Limelight, 2004). Page 175. 
http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Dmitri_Shostakovich

6	 
http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/51262-our-goal-should-be-to-live-life-in-radical-amazement

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