Readings

FIRST LESSON

The first lesson is from God is in the Manger: Reflections on Advent and Christmas by Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Jesus stands at the door knocking. In total reality, he comes in the form of the beggar, of the dissolute human child in ragged clothes, asking for help. He confronts you in every person that you meet. As long as there are people, Christ will walk the earth as your neighbor, as the one through whom God calls you, speaks to you, makes demands on you. That is the great seriousness and the great blessedness of the Advent message. Christ is standing at the door; he lives in the form of a human being among us. Do you want to close the door or open it?

   It may strike us as strange to see Christ in such a near face, but he said it, and those who withdraw from the serious reality of the Advent message cannot talk of the coming of Christ in their heart, either . .

   Christ is knocking. It’s still not Christmas, but it’s also still not the great last Advent, the last coming of Christ. Through all the Advents of our life that we celebrate funs the longing for the last Advent, when the word will be: “See, I am making all things new.”

SECOND LESSON

The second lesson is from the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 24, verses 36 through 44

“But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Child of God, only God. For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Child of God. For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Child of God. Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left. Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day the Child of God is coming. But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore you also must be ready, for the Child of God is coming at an unexpected hour.”

This Week's Sermon

Date: November 28, 2010

Title: Tell Me Again Exactly What We're Waiting For?

Message Delivered By: Rev. Dr. Joe McMurray

A country pastor had long ago put off the task of painting the exterior of his church. But ultimately, the all-white façade was peeling away, and the church was fast becoming an eyesore.

So one Sunday after services, the pastor scoured the newspaper and found a sale on paint. He was a very frugal pastor, and wanted to find the best bargain. The very next day, he went into town and bought a few gallons of white paint. Then he went back out to the church and began the job.

The pastor spent several hours on finishing the backside of the church. When he finally finished, he got down from the ladder, and walked a few paces away so he could admire his work. Though he was not a terribly proud man, he had to admin that the church looked great.

Upon further scrutiny, however, the pastor noticed he had already used half of the paint on only one-quarter of the area he needed to paint. He did not want to spend more money, and went back to the shed to think about what his options were.

It was then that he saw several gallons of paint thinner. Being the creative person that he was, he thinned the paint, more than doubling the amount that was left. His plan worked wonderfully. He finished the remaining three sides with the last amount of paint.

Late that night, it began to rain, and it rained very hard. The next morning, when the pastor stepped outside of the parsonage to admire his work, he saw that though the back side of the church still looked great, the paint on the other three sides had all but washed away.

The pastor was disappointed and frustrated. He considered all the work he put into the job and the money he’d spent on the paint. Ultimately, he could contain his anguish no longer and fell to his knees. He looked up to the sky and cried out, "Oh God, oh God, now what shall I do?"

Just then, a voice came back from the heavens saying, "My son, you have thinned! Go, repaint, and thin no more!"

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Will all thinners, please pray with me: God, as we begin this season of Advent, let us remember the reason we gather in hope, the reason we remember the names, and the meaning behind the incarnation—the spirit of God given as a gift to all humankind. Let us follow the example of the one born in Bethlehem and become your face of compassion and love in the world. And may my words and all of our thoughts be filled with honor and praise to you. Amen.
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Well, here it is again. The season of Advent is upon us. The season of anticipation—as we await the birth of the Christ child. The season of expectation—as we wait with bated breath for the changes that come upon us during the high holy days of Advent.

The season of hope has arrived—hope that God’s blessings will fall upon us in a special and long-lasting way. The season of peace—as we open our arms and plead with the rest of the world to wave olive branches instead of weapons.

This is the season of stillness—we maintain a posture of openness as we invite God into our midst, and more deeply into our lives. The season of caring—as we reach beyond our means, just this once, to give beyond measure to those who cry out for our help. The season of joy—as we give and receive in the spirit of God.

This is the season of waiting. So, tell me again exactly what we’re waiting for …

Are we waiting for miracles—for an end to all suffering and disease? Are we waiting for the Messiah to swoop down and solve all our problems for us? Are we waiting for the Christ Child to be born again into our hearts in December only to forget about him by January?

Are we waiting for that “day” of the Parousia to come—the end times spoken about in the Book of Revelation—the Apocalypse—the Rapture when all will finally be well, when the good sheep will be separated from the bad, when justice will reign over all?

And as we commemorate World AIDS Sunday, it’s also worth asking if we’re just sitting here waiting for a cure?

I’ve already admitted to you that I’m not very good at waiting. Those of us who hate waiting, are really just individuals who are impatient with the flow of life. This is, after all, the life we’ve been given—and the life we’ve created. We make lots of choices that put us in various life situations. And those life situations, encompassing all the people we know and love, often provide moments that are alive and brimming with wonder and opportunity—but for those of us who are of the impatient class, we see them as moments of torture, wasted moments that interrupt the momentum of our own agenda—moments that could always be better spent if we were in control. If we were in control.

Instead, we waste time—precious time that could be spent reflecting, thinking, praying—time we could use to solve the deep problems of the world, if only we could let go of our agenda and let God’s take its rightful place.

We always lament that we don’t have enough time, and that we don’t want to spend our time waiting. But what if we used this time in a different way. Perhaps it’s what we could do while we were waiting that could transform the world. To look at this another way, perhaps we are supposed to be proactive in our time of waiting. That would mean that what is supposed to happen in life is actually something we’re supposed to bring about ourselves.

You may have seen the article in the paper last week about our anniversary, which opened with a quotation that went something like this: “Some days, I want to get down on my knees and ask God why there is such suffering in the world. I want to ask why God allows hunger, starvation, poverty and homelessness. I want to ask why God allows war to take precious life and why there is still no cure for disease. I want to ask God all these things because I know God could stop them. But I don’t ask, because I’m afraid God will ask me the same thing.”

Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a 39 year old German Lutheran pastor, theologian, and martyr. He participated in the German Resistance movement against Nazism and was a founding member of the Confessing Church. He was involved and implicated in plans by members of an underground group to assassinate Adolf Hitler. This resulted in his arrest in April 1943. He was subsequently executed by hanging in April 1945, twenty-three days before the Nazis' surrender and several weeks before Hitler’s death.

I could stand here and speak about absolutes—that under no circumstances is it appropriate to take another human life—even if that life risked the lives of millions of others. But just as there is not one “truth” so too, there are no such things as “absolutes.”

For example, Bonhoeffer knew that what he was doing was wrong. He advocated Hitler's assassination and knew about various plots against Hitler and did not speak out against them. Before he participated in this underground movement, before he found himself involved in the assassination plot against one of the most heinous butchers in all history, Bonhoeffer wrote: “The ultimate question for a responsible man to ask is not how he is to extricate himself heroically from the affair, but how the coming generation shall continue to live." He returned to ignore what was happening in the present—and continued to worry about the lives of the future that may not even be able to come into existence.

In the face of Nazi atrocities, Bonhoeffer did not justify his action but accepted his guilt as he wrote "when a man takes guilt upon himself in responsibility, he imputes his guilt to himself and no one else. He answers for it. Before other men he is justified by dire necessity; before himself he is acquitted by his conscience, but before God he hopes only for grace." In a 1932 sermon, he said: “The blood of martyrs might once again be demanded, but this blood, if we really have the courage and loyalty to shed it, will not be innocent, shining like that of the first witnesses for the faith. On our blood lies heavy guilt, the guilt of the unprofitable servant who is cast into outer darkness.”

Bonhoeffer wrote, “Jesus stands knocking at the door. In total reality, he comes in the form of the beggar, of the dissolute human child in ragged clothes, asking for help. He confronts you in every person that you meet. As long as there are people, Christ will walk the earth as your neighbor, as the one through whom God calls you, speaks to you, makes demands on you. That is the great seriousness and the great blessedness of the Advent message. Christ is standing at the door; he lives in the form of a human being among us. Do you want to close the door or open it?”

Matthew’s gospel, through Jesus’ words, admonishes us to be ready in our time of waiting. He doesn’t say, “Just stand there.” He says, “Use your time to get ready. Be proactive. Now is not the time to sit still; it’s time to get up and dance.”

I invite you after the service today to spend time with the Quilt. I had the pleasure of sitting here with Derrick Traylor when he delivered these Quilt panels on Friday afternoon. We had some deep conversation that would never have taken place had this inspiring memorial not been here. I can safely say it changed both our lives and we left here different than before he came.

The writing on this wall before us is a memorial. It is a reminder and an honoring of the names of just a few of our loved ones who were, in their own way, unwitting martyrs for a cause: the names here today include Bert, Derrick, Scott, John, Larry, Daniel, Keith and Mark.

But it is not just the memory. It’s not just the names. I told Derrick as we sat here on Sunday, that I could feel the arms of these individuals reaching out from the Quilt—reaching out as if to implore, “Have you really done enough? What are you waiting for? Why are you just sitting there? Don’t grieve over me; don’t spend your time praying for me—but pray for the living and do for them; do what needs to be done; don’t sit and mourn, but take up the mantle of the memory of all of us and do something more to make life worth living for everyone. Don’t just sit and wait. Do something. Demand that a cure be found. Don’t wait to accept the next level of medicines so that pharmaceutical profiteers can continue business as usual on the backs of our dead …”

I don’t know all the answers. I don’t have the solution to bring peace to the world. I don’t have the means to end hunger and poverty and homelessness. I don’t wield the power that can stop hatred and division at every level of culture and society. I don’t have the resources to change our national language to love. And even if I had the strength and the courage and the talents to make such changes, I could not do it all by myself.

Perhaps you’ll help me. Perhaps while we’re all waiting for something to come along to change life for us, we can create together the transformation God calls us to. Perhaps together we can make a difference—a real difference.
And perhaps, then, with God’s help, we’ll know exactly what we’re waiting for.