Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
December 22, 2013
4 Advent A
For some time now, my brother Bo has been working on our family genealogy, using websites like ancestry.com along with books, family stories, and social security records. He has been able to trace both sides of our family back many generations, and while at first glance the chart looks quite sterile, boring even, a closer look along with a little imagination tells a richer story and raises questions about those who came before us. For starters, our family is not very creative about names. On my dad’s side, there are generations of Charlottes, Sarahs, and Richards, the latter two being my siblings. My mother’s side is dominated by Franks, Emilys, and Anns. Don and I may seem to have broken with tradition when we named our children Slocomb and Caldwell, but the reality is that we just recycled last names rather than first names. When we dig deeper, we see families with lots of children and families with no children. Did those families decide to have lots of children or remain childless, or is that just the way life happened? We find people from the early 20th century who were born in New England but died in North Carolina. Why did they move? We found people who lost their lives serving their country in a variety of wars, people who lived to a ripe old age, those who died young, and those who were probably shot stealing horses. While all of this is still fairly generic-most family trees look similar in this regard- the tree does give us some clue where we came from and reminds us that we did not arrive at this point in history out of the blue. We are grounded in a history that goes back much farther than our own selves.
If our gospel lesson this morning began at the very beginning of Matthew’s gospel rather than starting with the story of Jesus’ birth, we would have heard an account of the genealogy of Jesus. Matthew takes pains to trace Jesus’ human lineage all the way back to Abraham, through David, the Babylonian exile, and to Joseph. Like most genealogies, this is not gripping reading. The last verse of the genealogy, the one immediately preceding our gospel lesson, is this: "So all the generations from Abraham to David are 14 generations; and from David to the deportation to Babylon, 14 generations, and for the deportation to Babylon to the Messiah, 14 generations." I think there is some funny math at work here, but the point is to use a few words to put Jesus in the context of the story of God’s people through out time.
So we come to the birth of the Messiah. The story of God’s people is the story of the longing of God’s people for a Messiah, as we heard in the reading from Isaiah, a reading that has captured the hopes and imaginations of God’s people for centuries. We hear of Mary’s unplanned pregnancy, we see Joseph wrestle with what to do, and we listen to the angel speak to Joseph and tell him that the child Mary carries is from the Holy Spirit. Then we hear the angel give Joseph the very words we heard from Isaiah this morning "Look. The virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel," which means "God with us."
The story of God’s people, from the time of Abraham until the present day, is the story of our longing to know God is with us. When the Israelites fled Egypt and wandered around in the wilderness looking for the Promised Land, they knew God was present with them through the pillar of fire that led them by night and the pillar of cloud that led them by day. When God’s people were exiled in Babylon, their great fear and heartbreak was that God had abandoned them. When the people were allowed to return to Jerusalem after 50 years in captivity, their first priority was to rebuild their temple so they could know God’s presence among them. The Messiah for whom they long, and for whose birth we await in just a few more days, the one who was conceived by the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary, is the most concrete expression possible of God’s abiding presence with us.
Later this morning/in a few minutes we have the joy of baptizing Logan, Blake, and Bryce. Our bishop likes to remind us that we baptize babies who cannot make promises for themselves to remind us that baptism is all God’s action. The promises we make in baptism are not made in order to get God to do something for us. The promises are not the price of admission into the Church or the Kingdom of God. Our promises are our response to God’s promise that God will always be with us. There is nothing about baptism or Christmas for that matter that promises that life will always be easy. The story of God’s people though out all generations from Abraham until now bears that out. The promise of baptism and the promise of the Messiah are one in the same: Emmanuel. God with us. That promise is summed up in the great words of the apostle Paul: "Neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything in all creation can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus." There is nothing we must do or face alone. The promise of baptism and the promise of Christmas are one and the same: Emmanuel. God with us.
Amen.
Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
December 15, 2013
3 Advent A
Yesterday, while listening to the news coming out of Arapahoe High School in Colorado, people all over the country and perhaps the world, marked the one year anniversary of the shootings in Newtown, Connecticut that left 20 first graders, 6 educators, the gunman and his mother all dead. I remember listening with horror as the media began to cover the shooting, numb to the reality that such a tragedy could happen again. We watched as the children and their teachers were laid to rest, and as a small community came to grips with deep grief and made decisions about how to move forward and live the new life they had been handed. And we hugged our own loved ones a little bit closer having learned, yet again, about the fragility of life. In the face of such overwhelming tragedy, so close to Christmas, the John the Baptist’s question to Jesus echoes in my ears and perhaps yours: "Are you the one who is to come, or shall we wait for another."
Six years ago, my dear friend and mentor of about 35 years was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Life expectancy for someone with that diagnosis is short. Peggy’s many friends all over the country prayed without ceasing for her healing in the face of really bad odds. Her husband kept a blog so that those of us who were far away could be part of the day to day roller coaster of medical treatments, emotions, hopes, and challenges. Some days there really seemed to be hope for a good long remission if not a cure. Most days, we could hardly imagine that our beloved friend might die. For 13 months, thousands of people, many of whom had never met, road this roller coaster together. But after 13 months, all medical options had been exhausted, the cancer had spread, and despite all our prayers and the belief that God could heal, our loved one died leaving behind a devastated congregation, husband and four children, and thousands of grief stricken friends. And we asked Jesus "Are you the one who is to come, or shall we wait for another?"
When John the Baptist sends his disciples to question Jesus, John is in prison for telling King Herod that Herod should not be taking his brothers’ wife as his own. Given that last week John the Baptist was calling the people " a brood of vipers" and telling them that they would burn with unquenchable fire, we can imagine that the conversation John the Baptist had with Herod was perhaps a little short on tact. Now John is held in prison without bail or much hope of being declared innocent.
John had firm convictions about the Messiah. John believed with all his heart that the Messiah would separate the wheat from the chaff and the chaff would be burned. John’s call was to prepare the way and he gave his life to that call, not just preaching repentance, but embodying a life of repentance as he lived in the wilderness wearing clothing of camel’s hair and eating locusts and wild honey. Now everything John believed and had staked his life on was being called into question. Where is that ax that will cut down the trees that do not bear good fruit? Where is that winnowing fork? Was John’s life’s effort for naught?
When John’s disciples find Jesus and ask "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another," Jesus reply is not yes, or no. Jesus sends John’s disciples to tell John what they see and hear. And what the disciples see and hear is that "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." These words echo the words we heard from Isaiah this morning that point to the coming of the Messiah. John should not believe that Jesus is the Messiah simply because random miracles are happening. John should believe that Jesus is the Messiah because the very prophecies John believed in were coming to fulfillment in Jesus. John’s work was not for naught. John is the messenger sent by God to prepare the way. John is the greatest of among those born of women, according to Jesus. But John was unsure about Jesus because John expected Jesus to be someone else. Several weeks ago, in another reading from Isaiah, we heard God say "Behold, I am about to do a new thing." Jesus is the new thing God is doing.
Like John the Baptist, we have expectations of the Messiah. We want Jesus to prevent tragedy, or bring healing, or reconcile relationships. We believe Jesus can do this, and when tragedy happens or loved ones die, our faith can be called into question just like John’s was. When we say to Jesus "Are you the one who is to come or shall we wait for another," Jesus does not give us a yes or no answer, either. Instead, Jesus says "Look."
I read an article about the Newtown tragedy online last week, and Jesus might as well have been saying to me "Look. In the face of great tragedy, lives are being rebuilt. Forgiveness is triumphing over hate. Life is overcoming death." The people of Newtown are clear that life is painful. A lot of healing still needs to happen, and that there are tensions in their community about how to honor the past and move into a new future. But the article also quoted a city official who said "We are emerging from that darkness with some skills and some confidence that is born of fire from that awful event." Organizations have been formed to help prevent future violence. Over 270,000 people have signed a pledge to "choose love, belief, and hope instead of anger." One father of a child who survived said that he "doesn’t want his child to go through life expecting to be handed teddy bears and complimentary tickets to sporting events. He wants to move on." If we look, we see signs of the work of the Messiah in the midst of deep grief and great loss.
Likewise, in the months after my friend’s death, when we asked Jesus "Are you the one who is to come or shall we wait for another," the answer was also "Look." Those months were filled with renewed relationships, the grace of a community that was spread all over the world but united in prayer, the gift of knowing a person with the strength to meet the challenges of a deadly disease with faith and patience, her ability to live fully in the face of death, and her deep knowledge that nothing can separate us from the love of God.
In both cases, Newtown and Peggy, we wanted a God who would prevent bad things from happening or at least heal the bad things that did happen. We believe God can do that. But when we, like John the Baptist, wonder if Jesus is really the Messiah or if we should look for someone else, Jesus says "Look. See what new, unexpected thing I am doing." Seeing what Jesus is doing is not always easy or obvious. Seeing what Jesus is doing does not take the pain away, nor does Jesus’ presence glorify the pain. But when we can look at see what God is doing in our midst, where there is life in the midst of death or hope in the midst of loss, we can see that Jesus is the one who is to come, and we can show others as well.
Amen.
Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
December 8, 2013
2 Advent A
My favorite Nelson Mandela quote is one I found when working on my sermon for the 10th anniversary of 9/11. The quote is "Resentment is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die." At the time, I was thinking about the horrible crime committed against this country on 9/11, remembering the shock and panic we felt, and how out of control life felt on a grand scale. Certainly, Jesus calls us to love those who hate us, turn the other cheek, and pray for our enemies. That’s how Jesus lived and that is how we are to live as followers of Jesus. But Mandela’s quote about drinking poison brought me up short and got my attention in a new way. We can hardly expect to experience healing ourselves when we drink the poison of resentment, nor can we expect to experience reconciliation while waiting for the other person to suffer. Nelson Mandela had every right to be resentful. For 27 years Mandela suffered the indignities of prison-27 years of his life and all the potential that life held were taken from him for taking a strong stand against injustice and oppression. He missed out on the things we value most-being part of his children’s childhoods, growing into maturity with his wife, what would seem to have been the prime years of his career and earning potential, and on and on. Surely resentment would be justified, just as we felt justified in our resentments and fears after 9/11. And yet Mandela refused to drink the poison.
Despite all that had happened to him and been taken from him, Mandela stood before us and spoke the truth about our lives as human beings. "Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die." This morning, we see John the Baptist stand before us and speak the truth about our lives as well. "Repent," says John the Baptist. "For the Kingdom of Heaven has come near." And "Bear fruit worthy of repentance." And "but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me." Unlike Nelson Mandela, however, whose wisdom we embrace and whose death the world mourns, John the Baptist tends to make me want to join the Pharisees and Sadducees and flee from the wrath to come. Why, on the Advent path to the Christ Child, as we await the one described in the beautiful words of Isaiah, must we be called a brood of vipers? John the Baptist does not seem to be delivering good or helpful news at all
And yet, if we listen carefully, John the Baptist does speak good news at the same time that he speaks the truth about our lives as human beings. First, John the Baptist says "Repent. For the Kingdom of Heaven has come near." We get caught up in the annoying, but necessary, call to repent and miss the reason for that repentance. The Kingdom of Heaven has come near. That is good news, and the call to repent is the call to turn from those things that keep us from knowing the Kingdom of Heaven in our midst. What prevents us from experiencing God in our midst? Resentment? Fear? Worry? The need to be in control? Repent, and know the Kingdom of Heaven in our midst.
Secondly, no one likes to be called a brood of vipers. If John the Baptist came from a good, Southern family, he would know at least 6 ways to say the exact same thing in a less offensive manner. But John does have our attention now. And if we listen, we hear John tell the vipers to bear fruit worthy of repentance. So, apparently, even vipers can repent and bear fruit worthy of that repentance. If vipers can do that, I imagine you and I can do that also. The Kingdom of Heaven is out of no one’s reach.
Thirdly, John is clear that he does not have the final word. John says "one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire." Next week, we will hear John’s perplexity about Jesus when John asks from prison "Are you the one who is to come, or shall we wait for another." Jesus isn’t quite who John thought he would be. Jesus was less about fire and brimstone, and more about giving sight to the blind, raising the dead, and healing the lame. John has the basic message right-the kingdom of heaven has come near and everyone has the opportunity to repent and draw near to that Kingdom. The Kingdom turns out to be bit more like Isaiah’s description and a bit less like John’s, but nonetheless, John stood before us and told the truth about our lives as human beings.
Advent is the season of joyful anticipation of the Christ Child. Our church is adorned in beautiful blue vestments and we sing hymns of hope and longing. But for even the most joyful events in our lives, we prepare. We prepare for baptisms and weddings, the birth of children, new jobs or homes or schools, joyful reunions with loved ones, birthdays or anniversaries. We prepare both our exterior lives with new clothes or school supplies or invitations or whatever is needed. And, when we are at our best, we prepare our interior lives by repairing relationships that have been damaged, or letting go of our resentments, or looking carefully at what skills we bring to the a new task and what we have yet to learn. During Advent, we prepare for the coming of the Christ Child, not just with cooking, shopping, decorating, and all the other activities associated with the season. We also prepare our hearts for the birth of the Christ Child in our midst by listening to the likes of John the Baptist, who speaks the truth about our lives as human beings so that we can know the joy of the Kingdom of Heaven and the wonder of the Christ Child. Amen.
Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
December 1, 2013
1 Advent A
When our sons, Slocomb and Caldwell, were little boys, they had Advent calendars given to them by my aunt. The calendars had small doors cut into them, one door for each day until Christmas, and behind each door was a small piece of chocolate. Each night in December, they got to open one of the doors and mark off one more day until Christmas by eating a piece of chocolate. So far as Slocomb and Caldwell were concerned, all time moved toward Christmas and the only time that mattered was the number of days left until Christmas. Advent was a season, not so much of waiting, as of marking time. How many days left until Christmas? The theology here is simple: when the chocolate is gone, Jesus is here.
While that theology of Advent is perhaps a bit shallow, I have to say that I like that version of Advent better than what I hear in the gospel lesson this morning. On this first Sunday of Advent, when we might hope to hear something about the coming birth of the Christ child, something that will inspire us for this time of waiting, instead we hear Jesus compare his return with high level security, the preparation, or lack thereof, for the Great Flood, and a woman being taken up from her work grinding wheat. Where is that Advent calendar with the little pieces of chocolate??? I have to say that neither the image of preparation for a flood, nor being taken up from my daily work, nor being in a state of lock-down to prevent a thief from breaking into my house make me long for the coming of the Son of Man. Besides, aren’t we supposed to welcome Jesus rather than lock him out? I much prefer Isaiah’s vision of people beating their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks, and nations not lifting up sword against nation, and no one learning war anymore. Isaiah calls us to wait for this day by walking in the light of the Lord. Jesus calls us to prepare for his return as if we were expecting a thief to break into our home.
Whose image of the coming of the Messiah is correct? Isaiah’s or Jesus’? In true Anglican fashion, the answer, of course, is "yes." While Isaiah gives us a vision of the world coming together in peaceful unity, Jesus reminds us that we have no calendar, chocolate or otherwise, to tell us when that will happen. Jesus’ message is not that his return will be a flood, a kidnaping or a theft, but that God will break in among us while we are going about our every day work, living our everyday lives, with no advance notice, so we need to be prepared. According to Jesus, just as there were no signs that the great flood was coming, just as two women will be about their daily work grinding meal when one will be taken, just as a thief breaks in without warning, so will Jesus come. There will be no 4 weeks of Advent to prepare. We will have to be ready because the call to the holy mountain, to gather in peace as God’s people, will come without warning.
How are we to be ready? I am reminded of the way that people and whole cities, states, and countries for that matter, prepare for hurricane season. Tremendous energy and resources are used to board up houses, fill sandbags, stock groceries, water and other necessities, and move to higher ground, because the people’s lives depend on being ready for the wind and rains to come. But is disaster preparedness really the metaphor we want when we think about being prepared for Jesus?
Preparation for anything involves practice. If we want to be prepared for a recital, we practice. If we want to be prepared to host a dinner party, we practice our recipes on our family. If we want to be prepared for the test, we practice. And, because Jesus himself talks about floods and kidnapings, if we want to be prepared for disaster, we practice. So, if we want to recognize the Christ child when he is born, we practice recognizing those places where he is born among us now. How do we practice that? The apostle Paul gives us some idea of how we practice in the letter to the Romans. In the passage just before our reading from Romans this morning, Paul tells us to love one another, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. This morning we hear Paul tell us to lay aside works of darkness and put on the armor of light. Practice being people of light. We are to practice living fully, fulfilling all the law simply by loving one another and living honorably, and doing this with all the intensity and energy we would put into preparing for a flood, kidnaping, or a theft.
Advent calls us to a season of practice by calling us to live as if the Christ child will be born in our midst this very minute to usher in the Reign of God. The irony is that, if we live as Paul and Jesus call us to, we will be doing our part to make the future peaceful kingdom that Isaiah describes a more present reality in this world in our lifetime. Jesus told us that no one knows the hour, the place, or the manner in which he will return, this is true. But Jesus also proclaimed that the Kingdom of God has arrived, and told us that the Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed, growing among us until sometime in the future when the Kingdom will appear in all its fullness. Jesus calls us to prepare for his coming by living as if that for which we wait has already arrived.
So we wait and we practice. Advent is so much more than just counting down the days until Christmas. Advent is the call to be prepared, not by stockpiling necessities or by locking all our doors, but by living in the light, looking for those places where the Christ Child is born in our midst now. And when we live into Advent, Isaiah’s vision of the peaceful city will come just a little bit closer.
Amen.
