December
11,
2005
The Third Sunday of Advent
Gospel:
John 1: 6-8, 19-28
Old
Testament Reading: Isaiah
61:1-4, 8-11
(This
sermon is also available in audio)
Two
weeks ago, at the beginning of children’s chapel,
we went to the Great Hall to put the first figures
into the beautiful new creche. As different children
placed
the figures, I told them about Advent and how we are
to watch, and listen, and wait for Jesus to come. I
thought things were going pretty well and that I was
getting
the message across, when suddenly a six-year-old girl
named Christina raised her hand and asked, “Is
Jesus going to be born again?”
I
thought it was an amazing question and told her so. “Well,
yes!” I said. “And it is wonderful. Year
after year, Jesus is born in us, and for us. And each
time is different. Jesus comes to us in a new way each
year.” Thanks
to Christina’s curiosity, I thought back on Advents
past and realized how different and varied they have
been. Some years, I await Christmas eagerly, full of
joy and wonder, like a child. Some years, I feel hollow
and brittle and on the verge of tears most of the time. One
year was particularly sad for me, but that was the year
I found a small wall hanging with a quote from Albert
Camus written on it. The quote was, The
harshest winter finds in us an invincible spring. I
hung it in my bedroom and memorized it. By the grace
of God, I learned that Camus is right. The harshest winter
does find in us an invincible spring. What
I hear in today’s Scripture readings is the same
thing: through the grace of God, the deepest darkness
finds in us an invincible light. Listen to the first
part of the gospel: “There was a man sent from
God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify
to the light, so that all might believe through him.
He himself was not the light, but he came to testify
to the light.” What
the gospel writer tells us so eloquently is that God’s
holy and life-giving light comes into our world, and
that God sends messengers, people like John the Baptist,
to tell us about the light, to point us toward it. In
the gospel of John, there is no mention of John the Baptist’s
clothing or his diet of locusts and wild honey. Those
details come from Matthew, Mark and Luke, but in this
gospel all we know is that John was sent from God and
that he came as a witness to the light. The
second part of today’s gospel reads like a courtroom
trial, with the religious leaders as interrogators and
John as a witness. They ask, “Who are you? By what
authority do you baptize?” John answers, “I
am not the Messiah, I am not Elijah, I am not the prophet.” And
he points away from himself to the One who is coming.
John knows that he is not the Light, but he knows the
Light exists and that it is coming into the world. The
people who came to hear John and be baptized by him were
oppressed by the Roman Empire, crushed by economic and
social injustice, and longed for that light. Five
hundred years earlier, the people who listened to the
prophet Isaiah’s words, in today’s Old Testament
reading, had returned to Jerusalem from exile in Babylon
and faced the critical and difficult task of rebuilding
their community. They were free, yes, but also they were
in the dark about how to rebuild their lives.
Isaiah’s
words are like lightning bolts: The spirit of the Lord
God is upon me, he begins, and then he proclaims the
good news – his gospel – to the oppressed,
the brokenhearted, captives and prisoners. They are to
receive garlands instead of ashes, oil of gladness instead
of mourning, and mantles of praise instead of a faint
spirits. Imagine
hearing this when you are down and out, struggling in
the dark. No wonder that, according to Luke’s gospel,
this was the text for Jesus’ first sermon in a
Nazareth synagogue. John
the Baptist and Isaiah’s anointed one were both
sent from God to point people who were in all sorts and
conditions of darkness toward God’s holy, healing
light, to let them know that in the deepest darkness
there is the invincible light of God. I have had some
Johns and Isaiahs in my life. Maybe my list will remind
you of people who pointed you toward the light: There
was a man sent from God whose name was Bob, a
priest who sat with me one Sunday afternoon outside
a hospital in Memphis where my father, inside, was
not expected to live through the day. Bob stayed there
for hours, talking to me about what could happen and
what decisions I might have to make. My father recovered,
but what I remember most about that day was how Bob
enlightened and comforted me. There
was a woman sent from God whose name was Janie. She’s
about ten years older than I, and for years her practical
wisdom has been for me like ballast on a ship. Once,
in that dark and sad Advent years ago, Janie came over
to bring Christmas tree ornaments for my children.
She stayed a while, and when she left she said something
I’ve never forgotten: “I know things are
going to be better for you than you can even imagine.” I
probably went, “Sure!” But she fixed her
eyes on me, said, “I really mean it,” and
went away, taking with her some of the darkness that
had begun to overwhelm me, and leaving me much lighter
in spirit. Of
course, God sends light-bearers into our community life
as well as our personal lives: There
was a man sent from God whose name was Scott. He
came among us asking, “What can be done to give
the working poor good health care?” And he lit
a bonfire of hopeful light that became the Church Health
Center. There
were some people sent from God whose names were John
T. and Annabelle and Frank, to name just a few.
In 1968, at a dark time in our city, they came together
with others who shared their passion for spreading
the light of justice and compassion into other people’s
lives. Gathering a diverse group, they asked, “What
can be done to bring people in Memphis together to
deliver services to those who need them?” And
MIFA was born. There
were some folks sent from God whose names are Elizabeth
and Jimmy and Matthew and Meg. Along with several
others, they drove to the Gulf Coast in early November,
bringing hope and help to people whose lives have been
turned upside down. Since I these men and women, I
can say with assurance that they brought the light
of Christ right into that devastation. And many of
YOU are going today to do the same. God bless you,
every one. Every
now and then, God sends us great preachers. There
was a man sent from God whose name was John – John
Claypool, the preacher many of us knew and loved. John
Claypool lived through the deepest darkness and despair
when his young daughter died. But he turned that darkness
into a light of hope and healing for others as he wrote
and preached that “all life is gift, pure and
simple, something we neither earned nor deserved nor
had a right to, and that the appropriate response to
a gift is gratitude.” Speaking
of gifts, there was a child sent from God whose name
is Miriam, my three-year-old granddaughter. As most
of you know, we spend a lot of time together. One
evening at our kitchen table, I looked out the window
and said, “Look! The moon is out.” She turned
her head away and said “NO, Gigi! I no like the
moon. Close de curtains.” I could tell she was
really afraid, so I began to tell her that the moon helps
us, that it lights our way in the dark, that it is a
good thing, like the nightlight in her bedroom. She listened
carefully and I thought we’d made some progress,
but when it was time to go home, she put on her heart-shaped
sunglasses, held up her arms, and said, “Pick up
me, Gigi.” I
held her close and asked her if she was afraid to go
out into the dark, and she whispered yes. “Is it
the moon you are afraid of?” I asked. “Yes,” she
said. “What about the moon scares you?” I
asked. She was very still and finally said, “I
am afraid it will fall.”
What
I told her may not be scientifically accurate, but I
know it is true. “Miriam,” I said, “the
moon is a special gift from God, a light that comes to
us in the darkness. The moon will never fall because
that kind of light is forever, I promise you.” She
relaxed a bit, so we got into my car and drove through
the dark to her house. When I saw the moon, I didn’t
say anything to Miriam, but I noticed that it was brighter
and stronger than I had ever seen it.
Copyright ©2005
Calvary Episcopal Church
Gospel
Reading: John
1:6-8, 19-28
There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to
testify to the light, so that all might believe
through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify
to the light. (John
1) This
is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests
and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, "Who are
you?" He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, "I
am not the Messiah." And they asked him, "What
then? Are you Elijah?" He said, "I am not." "Are
you the prophet?" He answered, "No." Then
they said to him, "Who are you? Let us have an answer
for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?" He
said, "I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness,
'Make straight the way of the Lord,'" as the prophet
Isaiah said. Now they had been sent from the Pharisees.
They asked him, "Why then are you baptizing if you
are neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?" John
answered them, "I baptize with water. Among you
stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming
after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal." This
took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was
baptizing.
NRSV
(New Revised Standard Version)
(Return to Top) Old
Testament Reading: Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11
The spirit of the Lord God is upon me,
because the Lord has anointed me;
he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,
to bind up the broken-hearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
and release to the prisoners;
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour,
and the day of vengeance of our God;
to comfort all who mourn;
to provide for those who mourn in Zion—
to give them a garland instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the Lord, to display his glory.
They shall build up the ancient ruins,
they shall raise up the former devastations;
they shall repair the ruined cities,
the devastations of many generations.
For I the Lord love justice,
I hate robbery and wrongdoing;
I will faithfully give them their recompense,
and I will make an everlasting covenant with them.
Their descendants shall be known among the nations,
and their offspring among the peoples;
all who see them shall acknowledge
that they are a people whom the Lord has blessed.
I will greatly rejoice in the Lord,
my whole being shall exult in my God;
for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation,
he has covered me with the robe of righteousness,
as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland,
and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.
For as the earth brings forth its shoots,
and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up,
so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise
to spring up before all the nations.
NRSV
(New Revised Standard Version) |
