jesus creates the space for questions: christmas 1

The holy gospel according to Luke (2:41-52)

⁴¹Now every year Jesus’ parents went to Jerusalem for the festival of the Passover.

       ⁴²And when he was twelve years old,

              they went up as usual for the festival.

       ⁴³When the festival was ended and they started to return,

              the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem,

                     but his parents did not know it.

              ⁴⁴Assuming that he was in the group of travelers,

                     they went a day’s journey.

                            Then they started to look for him among their relatives and friends.

                                   ⁴⁵When they did not find him,

                                          they returned to Jerusalem to search for him.

       ⁴⁶After three days they found him in the temple,

              sitting among the teachers,

                     listening to them and asking them questions.

                            ⁴⁷And all who heard him were amazed

                                   at his understanding and his answers.

              ⁴⁸When his parents saw him they were astonished;

                     and his mother said to him,

                            “Child, why have you treated us like this?

                                   Look, your father and I have been searching for you

                                          in great anxiety.”

                     ⁴⁹He said to them,

                            “Why were you searching for me?

                                   Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”

                                          ⁵⁰But they did not understand what he said to them.

              ⁵¹Then he went down with them and came to Nazareth,

                     and was obedient to them.

                            His mother treasured all these things in her heart.

                            ⁵²And Jesus increased in wisdom and in years,

                                   and in divine and human favor.

The gospel of the lord.

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I can just imagine Mary in today’s gospel.  Though it was just this last week for us, it started so long ago for her.  Over 12 years, in fact.  A visit from an angel, which changed her life forever.  A baby?  Her?  A young teenager herself—not too much older than Jesus in today’s gospel, and she encounters an angel who calls her “favored” and begins to stir up deep feelings of unsettlement within her.  Things begin to change and as she ponders the angel’s greeting and promise, she takes a leap of faith, trusting the angel and trusting God.  And a fluttering begins deep inside.

As the baby grows, she travels to visit her cousin Elizabeth, who confirms the Holy Spirit’s work in and through Mary.  It is then that Mary finds herself situated among her foremothers—the women who have come before her, bearing gifts from God in their wombs.  She echoes Hannah’s song in her own magnificat—praising God for the work already done and still in progress, her soul magnifies, her spirit rejoices in God her savior.

Mary remains with her older cousin through Elizabeth’s third trimester, finding companionship with another one chosen by God, another one bearing a gift of the Holy Spirit.  And when she returns, the narrative we are so familiar with begins:  the decree from Emperor Augustus: a registration—a journey to Bethlehem—the city of Joseph’s ancestor David.  Bethlehem is filled to the brim—no room for anyone.  So they join the animals, finding hospitality in the warm, if dirty, stable.

Waiting in Bethlehem through the registration, Mary’s time eventually comes.  Surrounded by straw and animals, Mary gives birth to a child.  As she and the baby Jesus fade in and out of sleeping, eating, and watching, the night sky lights up.  Angels appear far off in the fields—bright as the star shining above and before too long these young shepherd boys show up, still glowing in the light of the angels—radiant with hope for Mary’s star-child, her peace child, the one who is the Messiah, the Lord.

Through the exhaustion of having given birth, Mary absorbs the visit from these strange boys and stores it away with the bright light of the star above her, pondering what it all means.

Then as Jesus grows a bit and begins trying to toddle around, more strangers appear—this time from the East bringing gifts!  

But what could Mary have thought when these gifts came?  She knows that Jesus is special—and not just because he’s her precious child, but now these strangers from so far away are bringing gold and frankincense—so fragrant!  They may not be great for a toddler, but truly these are gifts for a king!  The third gift, though…it’s different.  Myrrh is used to anoint people for burial.  Why are they bringing him myrrh?

And then the memory comes back of an old man—Simeon was his name—blessing Jesus when they brought him to the Temple to be circumcised.  Simeon had blessed them all and then turned to Mary and said, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.” 

Twice now Mary has received hints at terrible pain to come—but what and when can it be?  Surely Jesus won’t die anytime soon!  But these strangers say that Herod knows of him and means to do him harm.  His life is in danger!

And so the holy family flees, heading to Egypt as refugees where Jesus begins to walk and talk, until it is safe to return.  And they decide to settle back in Nazareth, where Jesus grows into his own and Mary, watching him, sees the deep wisdom, compassion, and wonder in eyes too old for his young body.

Then when Jesus is 12, as they’ve done every year, they go to the Temple for Passover.  All seems normal—until they head home.  When Mary and Joseph realize Jesus is not with them, they race back to Jerusalem and the image of myrrh floats behind Mary’s eyes as Simeon’s words echo in her ears, “a sword will pierce your own soul too.”  Is this the time?  Will he be lost forever?  Will she finally have a use for the myrrh she has held onto all these years?

As they search frantically throughout the city, Mary’s anxiety builds.  After three days, a period of time that will come back to haunt Mary when she ponders Jesus’ life, three days, and he’s in the Temple.  In her exasperation and relief, Mary scolds Jesus, “Child, why have you treated us like this? Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety.”

Confused, Jesus asks, “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my father’s house?”—but what does he mean?  He’s always asking these questions, …but Joseph is his father…until the angel pops into Mary’s memory, proclaiming God’s favor, bringing her the choice of a baby.

And all of this, Mary continues to store away.  She holds all of these pieces; mixing the memories around, pondering deeply what meaning they hold.  Sitting with the memories, she puts them side by side, rearranges, and meditates on them, trying to make sense of a jumble of feelings and thoughts and memories all vying for attention, all trying to be the most important. 

As she looks at her child, so close to the age she was when she gave birth to him, she wonders, How do all of these things connect?  What sort of future is in store for her precious child?  All these people and things are so different; what do they mean?

As we come down off of our own sugar and food-induced comas of Christmas, we are left with this strange reality.  God comes to us—this boy king, star-child.  We know what is to come and yet we now have space, this first Sunday of Christmas and this week between holidays, to sit with Mary and ponder. 

The memories can get jumbled.  The phrases and theology we have come to know so well we no longer question it, collide, so we look at them one by one, deeply pondering the questions that come when we experience God with us. 

What does it mean?  How do we live now, with Jesus in the world?  Who is Jesus in this world?  Will our souls be pierced as well?  Have they been already?  From the start, Jesus is headed to the cross.  Where are we?  How do we fit in with it all?  This community of faith is the space—the space to sit with deep questions—knowing we don’t have all the answers.  What are your questions?  How do you ponder these mysteries of faith?  To whom do you ask your questions?

Do Not Be Afraid - Nativity of Our Lord

The holy gospel according to Luke (2:1-20)

¹In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus

     that all the world should be registered.

          ²This was the first registration

               and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria.

     ³All went to their own towns to be registered.

          ⁴Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea,

               to the city of David called Bethlehem,

                    because he was descended from the house and family of David.

          ⁵He went to be registered with Mary,

               to whom he was engaged

               and who was expecting a child.

          ⁶While they were there,

               the time came for her to deliver her child.

               ⁷And she gave birth to her firstborn son

                    and wrapped him in bands of cloth,

                    and laid him in a manger,

                         because there was no place for them in the inn.

 

⁸In that region there were shepherds living in the fields,

     keeping watch over their flock by night.

          ⁹Then an angel of the Lord stood before them,

               and the glory of the Lord shone around them,

                    and they were terrified.

          ¹⁰But the angel said to them,

               “Do not be afraid;

                    for see—

                         I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people:

                              ¹¹to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior,

                                   who is the Messiah,

                                        the Lord.

                    ¹²This will be a sign for you:

                         you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth

                              and lying in a manger.”

          ¹³And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host,

               praising God and saying,

                    ¹⁴“Glory to God in the highest heaven,

                    and on earth peace among those whom God favors!”

¹⁵When the angels had left them and gone into heaven,

     the shepherds said to one another,

          “Let us go now to Bethlehem

          and see this thing that has taken place,

               which the Lord has made known to us.”

     ¹⁶So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph,

          and the child lying in the manger.

               ¹⁷When they saw this,

                    they made known what had been told them about this child;

                         ¹⁸and all who heard it were amazed

                              at what the shepherds told them.

                         ¹⁹But Mary treasured all these words

                              and pondered them in her heart.

          ²⁰The shepherds returned,

               glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen,

                    as it had been told them.

The gospel of the lord.

-----

Luke’s account of the nativity is FULL of angels.  In fact, there might be more angelic visits in Luke’s first two chapters than anywhere else in the Bible!  The angel Gabriel first visits Zechariah to announce the gift of a child to this couple who was said to be barren.  Then a few months later Gabriel heads over to Mary, inviting her into participation with what God is up to in the world.  With her yes to participating with God, the stage is set for tonight’s visit from an angel to some shepherds living with the sheep in the fields, all of whom are then joined by a whole multitude!

In each visit, the reactions and angelic responses are pretty similar: the person or people are terrified, or in Mary’s case “perplexed” a deep confusion or troubling, and so the angel says, “do not be afraid.”  After that, responses tend to vary, but as I look into other angelic appearances in the bible, the angels always seem to lead off with “do not be afraid.”  Fear, apparently, is a very common reaction to God’s presence and to God’s work.

Really though, it reminds me of a StoryPeople quote that “Most people don't know there are angels whose only job is to make sure you don't get too comfortable & fall asleep & miss your life.”  A lot of the time we think of angels as friends or relatives who have died,            or magical beings that keep us safe from harm.  Biblically, however, angels seem to be the ones who open us up to risks and opportunities.

Each visit in Luke comes with a risk.  Zechariah and Elizabeth face the risk and challenge of pregnancy and raising a child after their childrearing years have passed, not to mention a child filled with the Holy Spirit, who will turn the people of Israel back to their God—a risky task in the face of the Roman government demanding their complete allegiance.

Mary faces the potential shame and rejection of being pregnant outside of marriage—Joseph could legally leave her—then she would be without resources as an unwed and pregnant child.  As it is, the family ends up homeless for the baby’s birth, fleeing to Egypt as refugees soon after.

And the shepherds’ livelihood depends on the well-being of the sheep in their care.  Journeying to Bethlehem will certainly add risk to the sheep, and therefore to them.  Not to mention the risk of going to meet an other, whom you don’t know, who could do you harm.

And yet,            in each case—maybe after a bit of prodding for Zechariah—those who have received angelic visits move out of comfort and into risk—choosing to follow God.  Choosing trust and hope over their initial fear and potential hate.  They choose the vulnerability of trusting God and opening themselves up to the unknown.

Maybe that is the true miracle of Christmas—that God comes to us            with opportunities for risk and vulnerability.  Like the opportunity to sing the angels’ “Gloria” in Spanish and English or Silent Night in any language you choose, risk and vulnerability can be scary.  They are spaces where we are honest with ourselves and others even with our struggles, so they are scary indeed.   

But they are also opportunities for growth—opportunities to love more deeply or welcome another more fully.  Whether the risk is being honest with loved ones, forgiving others who have hurt you, learning about others who are not like you, or visiting a baby, wrapped in scraps of cloth, lying in a feeding trough.

Following God into and through these opportunities for risk just might lead to Jesus, who tends to show up in surprising places anyway.  So in this season of Christmas, we remember the birth of a child who calls us to risk, who calls us to deeper love and wider welcome, who calls us to new life in Christ.

Thanks be to God.

advent is a young adult dystopia

in my last post (sermon), i mentioned that if john were an author, he would probably write young adult dystopias.  as i explored that concept, i also realized that if i were to categorize the season of advent as a literary genre, it would be young adult dystopias.  i promised some exploration of that, so here it is:

during the last few months, i read 3 or more young adult dystopia series (having read hunger games previously, i read the unwind, divergent, and legend series) and realized that young adult dystopias are my favorite genre. 

young adult dystopias affirm my despair about our country and the world.  they assure me that i am not the only one recognizing all that is going wrong in the world.  i am not the only one lamenting and despairing about the fear and hate being sown in the united states, about the militarism that seems to be taking over, the potentials for abuse of power, the rampant consumerism and materialism, obsessions with how we appear over who we are.  they affirm my caution and pessimism about the path we seem to be going down.

and i love it.  i am a pessimist at times and i have been despairing a lot and to not be alone in that means a lot to me.

BUT, the thing about young adult dystopias that i really love is that they always move to hope.  they start with the despair of how the world or the country is, but that is only ever the beginning.  there's always potential for redemption. usually there are many working against the dystopic system (totalitarian, fear-mongering, whatever type of power is at work controlling and dictating life).  they work by themselves or with just a few others in secret, trying to put cracks in the armor of the dystopia, similar to those who were forced to build bombs for germany during world war ii and made sure they wouldn't explode--even just a few bombs, saving even just a few lives.

then arises one or a few characters that usually have the burden hoisted upon them to redeem their country, their society, their world.  they are not superheroes.  yes, they have unique gifts or skills, usually, and they come from a variety of backgrounds (the posh, upper, military class, the "lowest" district, the poor sector, or just one of the kids to be "repurposed").  they could be any of us, really.

as i explored all of this, it led to my last sermon about john writing a young adult dystopia in last sunday's gospel.  then i continued to think about it and realized that it's kind of the whole season of advent.  especially if you do the 7-week version of advent, which includes the last 3 sundays of the church year, advent focuses on the end-times.  

now, many people who are theologically grounded will say that this is because advent focuses on waiting for jesus 1-to be born in bethlehem and 2-to come back.  this is true, but it also means that advent looks at all of the potential harm that we has humans can do until then.  it looks realistically at our toxic politics, our fear-based approach to neighbors, our theologies of scarcity that keep us from real generosity.  advent, unlike the "time before christmas" that stores sell, doesn't sugar-coat reality.  it tells it like it is, despair, confusion, hurt, and all.

BUT, like young adult dystopias, advent doesn't just leave us there.  it brings us through the despair, confusion, and hurt into the hope and redemption of christ who does reign and who will reign.  the prince of peace.  the young adult dystopia that is advent, doesn't leave me alone with my pessimism.  it sits with me and my pessimism for a time and then starts pointing out the stars in the deep blue of the night sky, the people running into scary situations to help, the ones who live out hope, peace, joy, and love.

and in the end, the true gift in young adult dystopias, for me at least, is that they're really good for moving me from potentially being overwhelmed with despair at the reality of our world and especially our country to recognition and trust in the hope for redemption, that there is always still time for God's redeeming work.  and that is advent for me.  and i love them both.

jesus is coming.

Advent 3C: Living John's Young Adult Dystopia - The Protagonist is Coming

The holy gospel according to Luke (3:7-18)

⁷John said to the crowds that came out to be baptized by him,

      “You brood of vipers!

            Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?

                  ⁸Bear fruits worthy of repentance.

            Do not begin to say to yourselves,

                  ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’;

                  for I tell you,

                        God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.

                              ⁹Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees;

                                    every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down

                                          and thrown into the fire.”

¹⁰And the crowds asked him,

      “What then should we do?”

¹¹In reply he said to them,

      “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none;

            and whoever has food must do likewise.”

¹²Even tax collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him,

      “Teacher, what should we do?”

¹³He said to them,

      “Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.”

¹⁴Soldiers also asked him,

      “And we, what should we do?”

He said to them,

      “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation,

            and be satisfied with your wages.”

¹⁵As the people were filled with expectation,

      and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John,

            whether he might be the Messiah,

      ¹⁶John answered all of them by saying,

            “I baptize you with water;

                  but one who is more powerful than I is coming;

                        I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals.

                  He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.

                        ¹⁷His winnowing fork is in his hand,

                              to clear his threshing floor

                              and to gather the wheat into his granary;

                                    but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

¹⁸So, with many other exhortations,

      he proclaimed the good news to the people.

The gospel of the lord.

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Over the last few months, I’ve discovered that my new favorite genre of literature is: Young Adult Dystopias.  It was a surprise to me at first, but then it started to make a lot of sense and as I read today’s gospel, I realized that if John were an author, he would write Young Adult Dystopias!

One of the things that draws me into dystopias is that they affirm my despair on the days that I think the world is falling apart or destroying itself—when I have no hope left for humanity.  John has this part down pat: “You brood of vipers!” he calls out.  Then he goes into the wrath to come—the trouble brewing and the sad state of the world. 

John knows the Romans are occupying his homeland of Palestine.  He knows that any rebellion against this oppression will be met with “deadly force.”  He also knows that his peers are colluding with the occupiers.  Tax collectors help Rome and use the bit of power Rome gives them to take a little extra for themselves. 

People are living a theology and life of scarcity, rather than trusting in God’s abundance.  There is never enough—food, water, clothing—so they hoard all that they have, afraid to give away any little bit of extra.  People are abusing power and withholding, when they’re given the opportunity to be generous with what they have.  And so John preaches about the wrath to come.

But that’s not all John has to say and that’s not where the dystopias end.  In fact, it’s only the beginning!  You see, the secret thing that I love about dystopias—even more than their support of my pessimism and despair—is that they are actually filled with hope. 

Once it’s established that the world is messed up, then the hope sneaks in and we start to learn about steps of resistance.  Then the characters who are resisting the totalitarian government, oppression, or occupation are introduced. 

So, John encounters the crowd—the everyday folks who can resist and live into the hope in their own lives through their generosity.  “What then should we do?” they ask and John calls on them, in the face of their own struggles, to share their food and clothing.  Small acts of generosity, or random acts of kindness, spread throughout the people are seeds planted. 

Like the bulbs we plant in the fall for spring growth, they undermine the desperation and hopelessness.  They are small signs of hope that the ending is not yet written.  There is still time, still another way—the Author is not yet done.

And then come the tax collectors and soldiers.  Tension mounts as even those with some authority and power recognize that things are not as they should be.  And the terrible, hopeless façade established at the beginning of this dystopia begins to crack.  The perception of this terrible reality is not the only piece of the story; there’s more going on behind the scenes.  People are not simply following the rules they’ve been told.  They’re resisting—they’re living into hope for a better life; choosing another way, another ending.

But it’s not over yet.  The tension continues to mount.  As we hear in Luke, “the people were filled with expectation.”  There is hope that the way things are is not the way things must or even ought to be.  And so John introduces: The Protagonist.  John is not actually the Protagonist, merely the storyteller—the one who sets the stage. 

The Protagonist is more powerful.  In true Young Adult Dystopic fashion, the Protagonist is downtrodden.  Like Katniss in The Hunger Games, Tris in Divergent, and Day in Legend, this Protagonist comes from a small town, his family was homeless for his arrival into the world and lived as refugees in Egypt when he was young, and now he calls Nazareth, of all places, home. 

But like Katniss’ brilliance with a bow, Tris’ ability to fit into multiple categories—to see things from multiple perspectives, and Day’s perfect score on the Test, the Protagonist of John’s story also has some unique power and talent.  The Protagonist has: the Holy Spirit and fire—not to mention his winnowing fork and some awesome healing abilities.

And so the dystopia really starts rolling as the Protagonist figures out how messed up the world is and joins with others to create a new way—new life and hope for something more—something other than what they have.  Hope for redemption.

And that is my not-so-secret favorite thing about Young Adult Dystopias.  Yes they indulge my pessimistic defeatism about the world; but only momentarily.  I am never left to dwell permanently in the hopelessness.  Hope and redemption always come in to triumph. 

The world may seem hopeless—or maybe just a bit overwhelming with to-do lists and the impending Christmas festivities—but we are also catching our glimpses of hope—diapers and quilts sewn for families in need, bread broken together, backpacks full of food and Meals on Wheels safely delivered. 

We are setting the stage, preparing the way for the Protagonist’s arrival on the scene.  Preparing for a baby and preparing for the return of this One who breaks into our lives, who comes into our midst, and who is coming again to right all that is wrong. 

Now I’ve given you the ending to the Young Adult Dystopias that I love, but John’s ending is not yet here.  Our Protagonist is coming into the world.  In just a little while we will celebrate his arrival as God with us—Emmanuel, but for now, we wait in the midst of John’s story.  Jesus, The Protagonist, is coming.  We know how the story ends, and so with eager anticipation, we wait, we hope, and we let the flame of joy kindle within and among us.                        

Amen

Advent 2C: God Keeps Coming to Us

The holy gospel according to Luke (3:1-6)

In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius,

      when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea,

            and Herod was ruler of Galilee,

                  and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis,

                        and Lysanias ruler of Abilene,

                              ²during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas,

      the word of God came to John

            son of Zechariah in the wilderness.

            ³He went into all the region around the Jordan,

                  proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins,

                        ⁴as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah,

                              “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:

                                    ‘Prepare the way of the Lord,

                                          make his paths straight.

                                          ⁵Every valley shall be filled,

                                          and every mountain and hill shall be made low,

                                          and the crooked shall be made straight,

                                          and the rough ways made smooth;

                                                ⁶and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.’”

The gospel of the Lord.

-----

In the sixth year of the rule of President Obama, when Mark Dayton was governor of Minnesota and Tim Walz representative for Minnesota’s first district and his colleague Amy Klobuchar senior senator for Minnesota and Al Franken junior senator for Minnestoa, during the term of Presiding Bishop Elizabeth Eaton and the term of Stated Clerk Gradye Parsons, the word of God came …   to you, member of Trinity and First in Rushford, Minnesota.

In spite of all the bigwigs and powerful people available, God chooses to come to John in the wilderness and to us here in Rushford.  This is what Advent is. 

Advent comes when there is big stuff all around.  The Christmas hubbub is all parties, presents, and Santa visits, yet the word of God comes in the lighting of these candles each week.  Candles—small flames of hope from last week, a flicker of peace this week, and joy and love soon to come. 

In the midst of the presidential race and caucusing to come, with all the many candidates looking for a mandate to rule, God whispers to us: you!  You are my beloved, my chosen child.  I choose you to prepare the way for Jesus.  I’m coming into the world.  I’m coming to you. 

This is the word of God—coming to the quiet places, the wildernesses, to the children of regular folk like Elizabeth and Zechariah, who were too old for kids.  This is the God who chooses you                        to love.

This God comes here to you and to me. 

Advent is this peculiar time, the beginning of the church year, when… we wait.                       We begin… with waiting.  It is so counter to the hustle and bustle of Christmas shopping and decorating that it can be hard to figure out how to even wait.  How do you set time aside to wait when there is so much to do?  I just bought a tree yesterday—and now it needs lights and ornaments and something for the top and I haven’t even had time for it yet!  Never mind waiting for… God?

How do you sit in the wilderness of time or place, away from the rulers of our “pre-Christmas” time?  Is your weekly or daily wilderness the pause to light the Advent candles on Sunday night?  Is it prayers before dinner?  Devotions in the morning or before bed?  A run or walk outside?  Is it fasting from TV and the internet for 15 minutes each day?  Volunteering with Meals on Wheels, or contacting an elected representative to advocate for the poor and oppressed, to advocate for peace and an end to violence?  I decided to let my tree sit undecorated in its stand for a bit.  It still smells like Christmas tree and so when I walk in my house and catch a whiff, I pause and breathe.  And there is waiting in that breathing.

But that waiting, those ways we find of sitting in the wilderness even during December and Advent don’t make the rest of the world stop or go away.  This week, as has become the pattern, was a tough week for news.  There were more mass shootings—more lives taken too soon.  It happens so frequently now, that I wonder if I’ve become numb to it all—if it no longer registers as the horror that it is.

In the midst of that, I wish this sermon could just be about God’s love for you—about Jesus coming into the world.  But you’ve seen the news as much as I have and that’s not all there is to life or this world we’re in.  Advent is the time of waiting and preparing for Jesus to come at Christmas.  It’s also the time of waiting and preparing for Jesus to come again and really set everything right.

As we wait we pray “come Lord Jesus.”  We pray “kyrie eleison—Lord have mercy.”  We pray and we pray and we cry and we cry for the lives lost, for the violence in the words we hear on TV, in the news, in the world.  We cry and we pray for our own helplessness, loneliness, and despair.

What I want is the answer.  What I want is assurance that there is nothing I can do.  What I want is God’s assurances that God will fix everything.  That is all I want.  And the answer I get, all I have today for this second Sunday in Advent is that God loves you and me and everyone.  God loves you and comes to you.  Jesus comes to you and gives his whole being that violence and death would be put to an end, that you might fully know God’s love for you.  Jesus gives himself—body and blood, bread and wine, for a new covenant—a new start. 

Maybe that’s why Advent begins the new church year—so that we begin with hopeful anticipation of a fresh start—a clean slate.  A new covenant where we haven’t messed up too much—individually or collectively—for God to still love us.  We begin the year with Advent, waiting for God to come to us in the Christ child.

But that’s the trick of it all, isn’t it?  That we need the restart—we need a new chance to feel worthy of God’s love, but God doesn’t.  God doesn’t need our past or our sins to be erased in order to love us.  God comes to Zechariah and even when he doesn’t believe that he and Elizabeth could have a child—even when he loses his ability to speak—God still chooses them.  Even when John is wandering, unknown and unimportant, in the wilderness, the word of God comes to him.  God still tells John, “I choose you.  Prepare the way.”

And even when we mess up.  Even when we feel hopeless and helpless in the face of yet another mass shooting, yet another tragedy in our lives or the world.  Even when we want more time to get ready, to be better, to do better, to be worthy, even just more time to decorate the tree. 

Even when we aren’t ready, God still comes to us.  In bread and wine, God says, “I choose you.  This is my body.  This is my blood.  I love you.  Let’s try again.  Follow me, wait for me, get ready for me.  Let’s love the world all over again.  And again.  And again.  I choose you.”

Thanks be to God.