Readings

FIRST LESSON

The first lesson is from “The Dangers of Advent,” an essay by J.B. Phillips in Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas

The particular danger which faces us as Christmas approaches is unlikely to be contempt for the sacred season, but nevertheless our familiarity with it may easily produce in us a kind of indifference. The true wonder and mystery may leave us unmoved; familiarity may easily blind us to the shining fact that lies at the heart of Christmastide. We are all aware of the commercialization of Christmas; we can hardly help being involved in the frantic business of buying and sending gifts and cards. We shall without doubt enjoy the carols, the decorations, the feasting and jollification, the presents, the parties, the dancing and the general atmosphere of goodwill that almost magically permeates the days of Christmas. But we may not always see clearly that so much decoration and celebration has been heaped upon the festival, the historic fact upon which all the rejoicing is founded has been almost smothered out of existence.

What we are in fact celebrating is the awe-inspiring humility of God, and no amount of familiarity with the trappings of Christmas should ever blind us to its quiet but explosive significance: the incarnation of God. Amid the sparkle and the color and music of the day’s celebration, we do well to remember that God’s participation with humanity was achieved with an almost frightening quietness and humility. There was no advertisement, no publicity, no special privilege; in fact God’s entry into the world was almost heartbreakingly humble. In sober fact there is little romance or beauty in the thought of a young woman looking desperately for a place where she could give birth to her first baby. I do not think for a moment that Mary complained, but it is a bitter commentary upon the world that no one would give up a bed for a pregnant woman—and that the child of God must be born in a stable.

That is why, behind all our fun and games at Christmastime, we should not try to escape a sense of awe, almost a sense of fright, at what God has done. We must never allow anything to blind us to the true significance of what happened at Bethlehem so long ago. Nothing can alter the fact that we live on a visited planet.
We shall be celebrating no beautiful myth, no lovely piece of traditional folklore, but a solemn fact—God has been here, and God will come again with the same silence and the same devastating humility into any ready and receptive human heart.

SECOND LESSON

The second lesson is from the Gospel of Luke, Chapter 21 verses 25 through 36

“There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see the Child of God in a cloud with power and great glory. Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

Then Jesus told them a parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the realm of God is near. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

“Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day does not catch you unexpectedly, like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Child of God.”

This Week's Sermon

Date: November 29, 2009

Title:Waiting for the Light: We Must Never Forget

Message Delivered By: Rev. Dr. Joe McMurray

Author Unknown:

Each December, I vowed to make Christmas a calm and peaceful experience. I’d cut back on nonessential obligations—extensive card writing, endless baking, decorating, even overspending. Yet still, I found myself exhausted, unable to appreciate the precious family moments, and of course, the true meaning of Christmas.

My son, Nicholas, was in kindergarten that year. It was an exciting season for a six year old. For weeks, he'd been memorizing songs for his school’s Winter Pageant. I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd be working the night of the production. Unwilling to miss his shining moment, I spoke with his
teacher who assured me there'd be a dress rehearsal the morning of the presentation.

All parents unable to attend that evening were welcome to witness the dress rehearsal. Fortunately, Nicholas seemed happy with the compromise. So, the morning of the dress rehearsal, I filed in ten minutes early, found a spot on the cafeteria floor and sat down. Around the room I saw several parents quietly scampering to their seats.

As I waited, the students were led into the room. Each class, accompanied by their teacher, sat cross-legged on the floor. Then, each group, one by one, rose to perform their song.

Because the public school system had long stopped referring to the holiday as "Christmas," I didn't expect anything other than fun, commercial entertainment songs of reindeer, Santa Claus, snowflakes and good cheer. So, when my son's class rose to sing, "Christmas Love," I was slightly taken aback by its bold title.

Nicholas was aglow, as were all of his classmates, adorned in fuzzy mittens, red sweaters, and bright snowcaps upon their heads. Those in the front row, center stage, held up large letters, one by one, to spell out the title of the song.

As the class would sing "C is for Christmas," a child would hold up the letter C. Then, "H is for Happy," and on and on until each child holding up his portion had presented the complete message, "Christmas Love."

The performance was going smoothly, until suddenly, we noticed a small, quiet, girl in the front row holding the letter "M"—totally unaware that her letter "M" appeared as the letter "W".

The audience of 1st through 6th graders snickered at this little mistake. But she had no idea they were laughing at her, as she stood tall, proudly holding her "W".

Although several teachers tried to shush the children, the laughter continued until the last letter was raised, and we all saw it together. A hush came over the audience and all eyes began to widen.

In that instant, we understood the reason we were there, why we celebrated the holiday in the first place, why even in the chaos, there was a purpose for our festivities.

For when the last letter was held high, the message read loud and clear:

"CHRIST WAS LOVE."

And, I believe. And Christ still is. And I am amazed in his presence and humbled by his love.
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Will you pray with me? God, as this time of Advent approaches, a time of new beginnings when we have an opportunity to rewrite our stories, we ask that you keep us alert and aware of the season. Help us focus on the true meaning of this Holy Season, the promise that fills each of us with hope, and the essence of your love, made abundant through the birth of the Christ Child. Though we may feel incomplete without all of our loved ones around us, we know that in spirit, we will remain connected through you always. And may my words and all of our thoughts be filled with honor and praise to you. Amen.
This is one of the most challenging Sundays for me to preach. I sometimes have difficulty with what I lovingly call the “collision” between the First Sunday of Advent, a season filled with hope and promise, and World AIDS Sunday, a day when we commemorate the huge suffering, sadness and loss over the past 30 years.

Though there is a much greater reason for hope about the diminishing impact of AIDS on certain populations in various parts of the world, we must also acknowledge that this is so not true for many other populations and communities all across the world.

World AIDS Sunday is a day that even the most hopeful among us must admit, with some sense of shame, that in these locations, the AIDS pandemic has not yet reached its peak, and will, no doubt, bring about even more suffering and tragic endings than the more than 25 million deaths it has already claimed.

World AIDS Sunday does have something in common with Advent, in that it, too, is also about hope. But it is most often a time for remembering, a time of promising that we will not go down this road again, and a time of profound anger that our government historically sat by and observed that marginalized subsections of humanity were being sacrificed on the altars of ignorance and inaction.

I always come away from World AIDS Sunday feeling as though remembering and commemorating are not nearly enough. I often picture with awe the overlapping of AIDS to this section of Luke’s gospel on the First Sunday of Advent, which warns against complacency in the face of challenge.

“There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken.”

Jesus says, “When these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

But Jesus also warns the disciples to be on guard, not to let the complexities of life to weigh them down and catch them unexpectedly. “Be alert at all times,” Jesus said, “and pray that you have the strength to escape” the negative things that will take place.

This attitude, this position, this posture will ensure survival to another day—a spiritual survival that defies the erosion of the physical body and relies, instead, on the endurance of the soul.

We have been tested, haven’t we? We’ve been tested every which way. When I say “tested,” of course, I don’t mean a test in the way that some think: that God sits on high and zaps us with electric charges of pain and suffering to see how we’ll weather the storm. I don’t believe that for a moment.

What we have experienced, the pain and suffering we have endured, has nothing to do with games—but it has everything to do with life.

Why must humankind suffer? Why must we experience tragedy and the inevitability of death? Why must parents watch their children die? Why must partners watch their spouses die? Why must war take innocent lives needlessly while life goes on half a world away as if nobody is paying attention?

These are among the great questions of the age. They have stumped humanity for centuries and will probably continue to do so for centuries more.

We are not an ignorant people. We know that death will come to every one of us. Some of us will face the pain that comes from AIDS, one way or another. Some of us will endure hardships from other diseases that will afflict us or our loved ones—cancers, heart disease, diabetes, nerve disorders, viruses and other maladies. But it is the measure of how we lived that will be our epitaph; not how we died.

And so how shall we live?

J.B. Phillips suggests that there are ominous signs for those who ignore the true meaning of Christmas. Phillips warns us that in all the holiday hubbub that engulfs us, we risk losing sight of the importance of Christ’s birth.
Why was Jesus born? What did Jesus’ birth mean to the world? Why did Jesus’ life become so life-changing for us?

Regardless of our theological leanings, no one can doubt the impact of Jesus on the world that we recognize, initially, by celebrating Jesus’ birth.

But Phillips says, “What we are in fact celebrating is the awe-inspiring humility of God” and the “explosive significance of the incarnation of God.” He goes on to say that God’s choice to interact with humanity through the birth of Jesus received no fanfare, but was, instead, a humble beginning.

Perhaps this is the key to our faith: the humility and fragility with which we enter time, as we know it, truly make us vulnerable beings. We are in our purest form when life begins.

And it is the impact of our culture and our time that, all too often, change us from being at one with God and at peace with the Universe to being in conflict with most all of life that we encounter. These learned behaviors that take us away from God’s greatest gift—a gift that Jesus never lost—wholeness, completeness, and the chance for flawlessness.

So this year, as we wait for the light of the Advent season to permeate our lives once again, we have the power to heal ourselves by returning to the ultimate meaning of every experience: that life can be short; that we must live each day to the fullest; that we must continue to forge deep relationships with one another to celebrate the lives we share; that diseases such as AIDS must bring us closer together instead of drive us further apart; and that we must never forget our origin, never forget our faith, never forget the meaning of the Christmas season and the coming of Christ in the world.

And may we continue to follow where God is leading. Amen.