Readings

FIRST LESSON

The first lesson is from “Waiting for God,” an essay by Henri Nouwen from Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas

Waiting is not a very popular attitude. Waiting is not something that people think about with great sympathy. In fact, most people consider waiting a waste of time. Perhaps this is because the culture in which we live is basically saying, “Get going! Do something! Show you are able to make a difference! Don’t just sit there and wait!” For many people, waiting is an awful desert between where they are and where they want to go. And people do not like such a place. They want to get out of it by doing something.

In our particular historical situation, waiting is even more difficult because we are so fearful. One of the most pervasive emotions in the atmosphere around us is fear. People are afraid—afraid of inner feelings, afraid of other people, and also afraid of the future. Fearful people have a hard time waiting, because when we are afraid we want to get away from where we are. But if we cannot flee, we may fight instead. Many of our destructive acts come from the fear that something harmful will be done to us. And if we take a broader perspective—that not only individuals but whole communities and nations might be afraid of being harmed—we can understand how hard it is to wait and how tempting it is to act. People who live in a world of fear are more likely to make aggressive, hostile, destructive responses than people who are not so frightened. The more afraid we are, the harder waiting becomes. That is why waiting is such an unpopular attitude for many people.

Waiting, as we see it in the people on the first pages of the Gospel, is waiting with a sense of promise. “Zechariah, … your wife Elizabeth is to bear you a son.” “Mary, … Listen! You are to conceive and bear a son.” People who wait have received a promise that allows them to wait. They have received something that is at work in them, like a seed that has started to grow. This is very important. We can only really wait if what we are waiting for has already begun for us. So waiting is never a movement from nothing to something. It is always a movement from something to something more.

SECOND LESSON

The second lesson is from the Gospel of Luke, Chapter 3 verses 7 through 18

John 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? Bear 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. Even now the axe 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.”

And the crowds asked him, “What then should we do?” In reply he said to them, “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.” Even tax-collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him, “Teacher, what should we do?” He said to them, “Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.” Soldiers 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.”

As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, John 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. His 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.”

So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people.

This Week's Sermon

Date: December 6, 2009

Title:Waiting for the Light: What Shall We Do While We Wait?

Message Delivered By: Rev. Dr. Joe McMurray

A ship was wrecked during a storm at sea and though the lifeboats had been successfully deployed, two of the passengers, lifelong friends, could not locate the boats in the chaos, and both desperately clung to a large piece of board that floated nearby. Eventually, they were able to swim to a small island. The survivors, not knowing what else to do, agreed that they had no other recourse but to pray to God first—for thanksgiving for their lives, and then—for help in their dire situation.

For many weeks, they shared the island, searching for food and for any means of survival while they awaited rescue. They disagreed on which one of them should be in charge. And so in the midst of their arguing, the first survivor decided they should split apart—one to stay on the east side of the island, and the other to remain isolated on the west side. The second pleaded, saying, “Surely we will have a much greater chance for survival if we remain together.” But the first survivor refused, stubbornly saying, “You are no longer a friend of mine.”

As night fell, each survivor got down on their knees and prayed to God. The first survivor on the east side of the island prayed for food, and the next morning, discovered a grove of fruit trees and bushes with many varieties of berries. Meanwhile, the second survivor, on the west side of the island found no food.

After a week, the first survivor again went to pray, this time for a warm spot to sleep at night. The next day, a warm cave and shelter from the wind and the rain was found. The second survivor found no shelter from the cold.

As time passed, along with the other prayers that were spoken, the first survivor also prayed to be rescued. Finally, after about six months, a distant ship was spotted approaching in the distance. The first survivor lit a bonfire and found that the ship was headed toward the island. Once more, prayers were about to be answered.

As a small inflatable boat came ashore to carry the first survivor to the ship, a thought came to mind: the second survivor on the other side of the island might also be rescued.

But they had not seen or spoken to one another for months. There were still hard feelings between them. Perhaps the second survivor was bad luck. Every blessing had been awarded to the first survivor, while the second survivor received nothing. Perhaps the second survivor was unworthy of God’s grace.

So instead of notifying the captain about his former friend, the first survivor climbed into the rescue boat and paddles over to the larger ship. And as the ship pulled anchor and was about to leave, the first survivor heard a voice from heaven boom-out, "Why are you leaving your companion on the island?"

"My blessings are mine alone since I was the one who prayed for them," the first survivor answered. "The prayers of the one who used to be my friend went unanswered, and therefore, rescue is undeserved."

"You are mistaken!" the voice rebuked the first survivor. "Your friend had only one prayer, which is the only prayer I answered. If not for that prayer, you would have received no blessing."

"Tell me," the first survivor asked, "what was prayed for that I should be grateful?"

The voice replied, "Your friend prayed that all of your prayers would be answered."

This story offers an important lesson of which we should always be mindful: what do we pray for when we pray?
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Will you pray with me? God, as this time of Advent approaches, a time of new beginnings and fresh starts, we have an opportunity to rewrite our stories, to right the wrongdoings of the past, and to prepare ourselves for the coming of the Christ child in our minds and hears. We ask that you melt away our selfishness. Make us caring and loving beings in all our encounters and in all our actions. Give us the kind of compassion for one another as you have for us. And may my words and all of our thoughts be filled with honor and praise to you. Amen.

These are hardly heartening words in the Scripture: “‘His 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.’ So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people.”

Good news? If that’s good news, I can’t wait to hear the bad!

Some scholars teach that these words attributed to John the Baptist actually describe what will happen on the last days, when the good people will be separated from the bad. The good will be rewarded, and the bad punished. The good will receive eternal life, the bad—eternal damnation in a hellish sort of place.

What most scholars fail to mention is that the wheat and the chaff are all part of the same plant. Until they are separated, they grow together. They do not come apart until we separate them. Until this process takes place, they’re part of the same entity.

So it is with people—our strengths and weaknesses make us who we are: we are neither all good nor all bad; we’re unlikely to find the good without at least a splash of bad lurking in the background. Our dispositions are a mix of multiple things; our humanity continually shows our imperfection. And our imperfection gives us something to strive for while we wait for life to evolve.

Henri Nouwen has a lot to say about waiting, given that the Advent Season is traditionally a time of spiritual waiting in the Christian church.

Nouwen understands how difficult a concept waiting is. He says most of us consider waiting a waste of time because of our impatience in that uncomfortable place between where we are and where we want to go. Waiting, he says, complicates matters because of our fear of feelings, of other people, and of the future. The more fearful we are, the harder waiting becomes.

During my days living in New York City, waiting (also known to New Yorkers as wasting time) was one of the most dreaded pastimes in existence. In a large metropolitan city like New York, however, it was impossible to avoid waiting.

Most of those who live in the heart of the big city use public transportation, avoiding the traffic jams that pile up on the interstate highways that surround the city. In fact, the city folk make fun of people who sit in traffic jams on the outskirts of town.

Meanwhile, the people who live in the suburbs and outskirts make fun of people who live in the city and stand in lines for buses and subways, especially in wet or cold weather.

And absolutely everybody has to wait at the post office, regardless of where you live. Even here in tiny Key West, the post office is the last place you want to go when you have other places you’ve got to be. It seems you can’t get away from waiting, no matter where you live.

Culturally, we put so much stock in actual events, we don’t seem to enjoy the process leading up to the events themselves or relish the result.

Perhaps it’s just how we think about waiting—and what we feel we lose when we do it—that gets us in trouble emotionally and spiritually.

Henri Nouwen reminds us about the sacred essence of waiting. He refers to the story of Zechariah and Elizabeth, whom God blesses with a child after so many years of waiting.

He reminds us of the expectancy of Mary, whose very expectancy becomes ours as we await the birth of the Christ Child every Christmas season.

What is the expectancy in us? What are we waiting for? And what shall we do while we wait for it? What is the “something more” that awaits us? And how shall we prepare for it? How shall we receive it?

The crowds asked John the Baptist, impatient for the coming of the promised one whom John taught about, “What shall we do?” And John replied: to simply wait is not enough. It’s not enough to be still.

It is in our response to the world, the intervention of God in the business of humanity that occurs through us, it is what we do while we wait that matters. And it is how we wait.

It is never enough just to have the journey—for it is the preparation for the journey and the experience that comes after it that fill most of the time of our lives.

So, too, it is not enough to await the arrival of the transformative event in our lives. It is the anticipation of it, the preparation for it, and what comes after it that should occupy our time and fill our hearts.

John the Baptist made it clear how the passage of time must be spent, how the preparation must be engaged, and what the value of our time was worth: “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.”

John exhorted the tax-collectors and the soldiers to be honest and forthright and respectful, in anticipation that what they were waiting for was sacred and profound and must be treated with respect and reverence.

And for us, when we grow up spiritually, we come to understand that waiting is just a part of life. But an even deeper truth is that the time we feel we waste in long lines, taking long rides, or just waiting at the post office, can also be time filled with promise and possibility. It is up to us as to how we spend that waiting time.

Some of us read; some observe; some make lists of other things to do, and other ways to wait; some of us create while we wait; some of us plan solutions to problems; others of us create new problems to worry about.

Some of us think about why we’re on this earth and what we might do to make the world a better place. And some of us pray for the person everyone is waiting for—like the second survivor in our story did—that all their prayers are answered.

During the Advent Season, let us honor all of the time we have; fill our time with worthwhile things. Cherish the moments of waiting and expectancy so that no thought, no word, no deed, no thing is wasted. And let us, at the end of the day, be able to call that time “sacred” time—time we’ve spend with God in preparation for that thing that happens to our hearts every Christmas.

An old proverb says: good things come to those who wait. May we wait in good faith, and continue to follow where God is leading. Amen.