December 9, 2007
The Second Sunday of Advent (Year A)
Isaiah 11:1-10; Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19; Romans 15:4-13; Matthew 3:1-12
I start this reflection on Second Advent with a bit of a confession. For the longest time, I didn't really like Advent all that much. The beginning of Advent always seemed like the inevitable beginning of a very short home stretch, when I had very limited time to get a lot of things done. The time for wondering and planning and looking ahead was over, and the time was now to get busy: to cook, to shop, to decorate and wrap presents, to select and write and mail cards, maybe to travel and all the preparation that takes, each task embedded with time consuming and often expensive chores necessary to complete before the BIG DAY. And then, there’s the inevitable letdown that follows such a high, even after some pretty magical moments, with friends and family, at services with familiar yet amazing stories, lights and music – now what? I saw around me people working so hard to make this day special. At the time, I knew but didn't really understand the love that went into all these preparations. I didn't quite appreciate what a gift of love for God these birthday celebrations represented. I do now, but I didn't then. After a while I dealt with my discontent by volunteering to work every Christmas. That might seem altruistic, but actually it can be sort of fun to work Christmas at a children's hospital, that sense of collegiality and common purpose that comes from making this day magical for children at an otherwise unimaginably tough time in their lives. But getting ready for it was not much fun.
That all changed for me a few years ago, when I felt an urgency of a different kind. It had been a particularly difficult year, and I was really letting things get to me. I was overwhelmed with too many things to do and too many obligations; and some people at work were really driving me nuts! So I stepped back and I soon realized what I really couldn't stand was myself. I was being oversensitive, overreacting, being grouchy and making myself and probably more than a few others miserable. I was exhausted! And I realized that I had to let some things go, that I had to stop obsessing about things I couldn't change. I realized that the only thing I can really change is my own behavior. I know, we've all heard that a million times before, but for some reason, this time I really heard it. It finally sunk in. And so I made some resolutions. I was too miserable to wait until the New Year, so I embraced the new church year as a time of starting over, of letting go. And a funny thing happened. I started to see Advent differently.
We all know that the traditional way to understand Advent is as a time of preparation and of course it is. But in our ever more secular world, maybe we focus on the wrong preparations. After all, this gospel lesson today is not a feel good scripture, it's a warning, a warning to not take for granted our heritage as God's chosen, to not be overly confident that the outward trappings of our faith are what is important to God. It's a warning to not rest too comfortably in our sense of our own goodness, but to look deeply into our hearts, to see all that resides there, and to repent, to get ready for the coming of Christ.
Every year in this season of preparation, we hear the stories of John the Baptist. Throngs of people come to him in the wilderness to learn what it is this readiness entails, to repent of their sins and to be baptized. How does this relate to us? Most of us try to live good lives. We're honest; we work hard; we try to do what's right. We're busy doing all that so what have we to repent, to renounce, to be sorry for? But this message of John's is important, and it's not just for the “others.” We can all identify in our lives, our own modern day versions of the Pharisees and Sadducees. This call to repentance and baptism is for all of us. If we listen closely to the questions asked of us at every baptism, and in every opportunity we are offered to renew that covenant, we see that we are asked to turn away from the powers of evil, those things that distract and corrupt us, and to turn toward God, trusting in His wisdom, his abiding love and grace for us always.
As John admonishes the crowds and us to repent, it's a warning, but it's also an invitation, an invitation to have a change of heart, to rid our lives of all those things that take up space and waste our energy, to be sorry, to repent, but to also be confident in God's steadfast mercy and forgiveness and to move on. It's an invitation to leave behind all the junk: the regrets, the missed opportunities, and to declutter our minds, our hearts and our lives of all those things that keep getting in the way of our being and becoming who we are meant to be, before we become captive to them.
John tells us that we must get ready for the coming of the Messiah, who will come with an ever more powerful baptism, to purify, to clean out our hearts of the busyness and the cobwebs, the grudges and resentments that interfere with our full engagement in the coming, once again, of our Lord and Savior. Again and again through the words of Scripture we are offered the opportunity for a new beginning, and it's not about rules or ritual, it's about faithfulness and courage and the longing to know we are beloved. It's about making room for God to purify our hearts from within. What other precious gift is there that is ours, just for the wanting?
And if we can do that, then Advent changes. As we prepare for the coming of Christ, it becomes again a time of wonder, a time of emptying and rapt listening. We may still need to accomplish a lot of tasks in our getting ready, but with purified hearts, Advent becomes for us a season of hope, a time to ponder the miracle of birth, and to be filled with the mind-blowing awe of incarnation. We, beloved individuals and a sacred community of deep faith, are re-energized, recommitted and ready for creation to begin again, healed, restored and bursting with possibilities. We are called forth in faith into God's future.
“May the God of hope fill you with joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
Amen.
The Rev. Maggie Geller
Church of the Good Shepherd