Wandering Through Advent, Part Three

Advent 3C; Zephaniah 3:14-20; Isa. 12:2-6; Phil. 4:4-7; Luke 3:7-18

St. Paul’s, Smithfield, NC; 12/13/2015

Jim Melnyk: “Wandering Through Advent, Part 3”

This Advent we are using the image of labyrinth walking as a metaphor for our Advent journey.   As we move through week three of our Advent labyrinth journey we may find ourselves surprised.  In the third quarter of the labyrinth we make a tight turn and then find ourselves on a long, wide, curve that reaches almost completely around the circle.  In fact, one might be tempted to close one’s eyes and try to walk the curve without looking – well I’ve tried it, anyway.  I find the long curve a welcome break from the many turns experienced toward the end of week two.  Perhaps the break is fitting on this Sunday in Advent which we call Gaudete Sunday – the Sunday of Advent Joy.  The pink candle we light breaks us from our more serious consideration and brightens the day. 

In our first lesson for the Third Sunday in Advent the prophet Zephaniah tells Judah who is in exile to shout out with joy!  “Rejoice and exult with all your heart!”  The prophet speaks of Israel’s – and by extension our – consolation: God’s promise of Judah’s return from exile, and God’s promise to be in her midst.  The prophet Isaiah echoes Zephaniah’s command to cry out in joy – promising Judah that she will “draw water with rejoicing from the springs of salvation.”

Paul, someone trained in the Pharisaic tradition, was probably familiar with both Isaiah’s and Zephaniah’s proclamations.  Whether he had either of the prophets’ words in mind or not, we’ll never know.  But Paul commands the church in Philippi to “rejoice in the Lord always!”  Paul then commends the church for their gentleness – and commands them – commands us – to let our gentleness be made known as the Lord draws near.  No fear here.  No acting good to avoid getting smacked upside the head by a vengeful God.  Let your gentleness be made known as a way of letting others understand that Christ is near.  In the midst of a troubling time in a less than tolerant culture, Paul promises that “the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, [and which] will guard [our] hearts and [our] minds in Christ Jesus.”  He reminds us to rejoice in our new-found faith in God through Christ Jesus.

But then as the wide arc comes to a conclusion, only a couple of feet away from where it began, we suddenly find ourselves in a series of tight, spinning turns – sending us this way and that along the path.  Once again the tight turns remind us of God’s call to repentance – God’s call to turn and return to the One who creates us, who loves us, and who lives within us.  Our last few steps in week three bring us directly toward the center of the labyrinth – we turn and walk alongside that sacred center space, seemingly sure that we’re about to step within its boundaries. And then just as suddenly another series of tight turns sends us away from the center – catching us by surprise the first few times we walk the path.  We are not yet ready to enter that sacred place of meeting. 

Perhaps in the midst of the turns and the turning away we can hear the wild-eyed Baptist shouting out across the centuries: “You brood of vipers!  Who warned you to flee the wrath that is to come?”  Nobody likes being called a snake.  I don’t imagine anyone – or any group of people – would like being called a “brood – [or a nest] – of vipers” either.  It’s just not nice.  But John the Baptist isn’t all about the niceties of life.

I don’t know about you, but I just want to get up and walk away from his rant.  Why would I, why would anybody, want to be the subject of his wild finger pointing, or listen to his rants about axes put to the root, and sinners thrown to the fires?  It sounds so much like our dysfunctional twenty-first century, doesn’t it – with all the finger pointing and the name calling?  But despite all that I feel compelled to stay – John is so mesmerizing – and his message begs my attention.

But why should we pay attention to this proclamation about axes and fires?  We’re Episcopalians – we don’t do much of that fire and brimstone stuff much anymore.  Sure, we talk a little about sin – especially around Lent or the times we baptize someone or renew our Baptismal Covenant – or find ourselves talking about John the Baptist – but really – axes and fires?  The wrath to come?  Fruit worthy of repentance?  Me, repent? I’m not that bad!  Now we’re starting to sound a bit in the face and judgmental, aren’t we?  What about the love of God?  What about sweet baby Jesus, meek and mild lying in the manger?  We don’t get that sweetness and love from the Baptist – we get what folks used to call “tough love” – the kind of love that says “For God’s sake, stop what you’re doing and make some changes in your life.” 

Remember from last week that the word of God comes to John – this wild-eyed prophet in the wilderness – wearing camel hair and eating locusts and wild honey.  The word of God doesn’t come to Pilate, or the High Priests, or Herod – the word of God comes to John, who tells his listeners – and tells us across the ages – your power won’t save you – your position in life won’t save you – even your Godly pedigree won’t save you.  John is what one homiletics professor calls “lunatic-on-the-corner-crazy” – so who in their right mind would listen to him? (Jason Byassee, Sojourners On Line: Preaching the Word, 12/13/2015)

It seems obvious from Luke that the ones who listen to John – the ones who listen and hear his message – seem to be the ones who need the consolation of God the most in their lives – those who are down-trodden and hurt – those who have been coerced into lives of violence by the powerful.

Perhaps they listen because, as homiletics professor Jason Byassee writes, “John’s altar call is remarkably gentle. What do we do?” [John’s audience asks, and] John gives tepid requirements indeed – share with those who have no coat or food, don’t collect too much tax or extort money, be satisfied with your wages. Really? That’s it? That’s it, John says. Share. Don’t coerce. Be content. Small as they may seem, these are… priorities that would indeed turn the world upside down—John’s and ours.

Try them,” writes Byassee.  “Go ahead. And you’ll soon find yourself rejoicing and sorrowing, with enemies as powerful as John’s and friends as powerful as God and God’s beloved poor. Rejoice! For the king of the world is a poor infant, and before him the idols fall and shatter” (ibid).

We might wonder where in the world Jesus comes up with preaching as comforting and as staggeringly challenging as what we call the Beatitudes and we may have found part of the source right here in John’s preaching.  Jesus will come preaching the love-filled extravagance of the kingdom of God – and all the challenges that come with making that kingdom a reality in our present day – “Thy kingdom come,” O Lord.  “Thy kingdom come!”  Those words should both terrify us and fill us with expectation and hope!

Walking the labyrinth in Advent reminds us that this period of anticipation and preparation is not simply a time of passive reflection – though reflection certainly plays a part.  Advent is a time of mixed emotions – of rejoicing and repenting – of hoping and longing – of waiting and acting – a time of being and becoming what God has created and called us to be in this world: the image of God in us alive to each other and the world –

our becoming more and more like Christ, which is Christ’s greatest desire for each of us. 

Walking the labyrinth in Advent is gentle and quiet enough to allow us time to consider what it means for God to be breaking not only into the world, but into our very hearts and souls.  But at the same time we are moving forward – we are facing the twists and turns of our lives and realizing Advent is a time of seeking as well – of asking, “What then should we do?”

And our hearts beat in rhythm with each step we take along the way, gently telling us, “Become Christ.  Become Christ.  Become Christ.”

Wandering Through Advent, Part 2

Advent 2C; Baruch 5:1-9; Luke 3:1-6; St. Paul’s, 12/6/2015

Jim Melnyk: “Wandering Through Advent, Part 2”

The word of God comes to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.  God’s word comes to John – whom we call The Baptist – God’s word comes to John at a very specific time in the life of the world: “In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas” (Luke 3:1).  I think it was February 26 at about 10:15 in the morning.  It was partly cloudy and mild for February… just kidding.

The word of God comes to John – the word of God comes to John in a specific place at a specific time.  Perhaps that’s part of what’s behind Luke’s detailed account – a desire to set the incarnation in time.  Theologian and priest Barbara Cawthorne Crafton suggests that there might be something more behind Luke’s introduction.  The word of God comes to John – not to the big boys in palaces or in temples [or to the top dogs at the head of Board Room tables] – but rather the word of God comes to an everyday person whom the world does not equate with status or authority (The Geranium Farm, 12/4/2015). 

John came proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins – for all of us – for all who find themselves in broken places – for all who long for God’s peace to find a home in our world.  Channeling the words of ancient prophets of faith – Isaiah in this instance – John announces the advent of God’s salvation for the world.   And whereas Isaiah spoke of a promise that those held long in Babylonian exile would soon return home to Jerusalem, John begins to prepare the way for the coming of Jesus, who will lead humanity out of our personal and corporate captivity to sin – out of the brokenness and loss of our personal exiles, whatever and however they may look.

Once again our Advent lessons, set in difficult times and places, offer the anticipation of a great hope – the hope that in the midst of our exile – in the midst of our brokenness – whatever that might look like – in the midst of the uncertainties of life – God will once again come among us and once again claim us as God’s own beloved.

Our first lesson, attributed to Jeremiah’s scribe Baruch, also speaks of consolation.  Set during the time of the Babylonian exile, it was probably written centuries later when Jerusalem was occupied by the armies of Antiochus Epiphanes, who was descended from one of the generals of Alexander the Great.  The Jerusalem temple, rebuilt after the Babylonian exile, has been desecrated and the people once again in exile – this time exiled in their own land.  Yet Baruch speaks a word of peace – speaks a word of promise and hope: “Take off the garment of your sorrow and affliction, O Jerusalem, and put on forever the beauty of the glory from God” (5:1). 

But Baruch’s promise also includes a charge to God’s people: “Put on the robe of the righteousness that comes from God….” (5:2a), and God will gather you together and “will lead Israel with joy” (5:9a).  Even the weight of occupying armies cannot quench the power and the love of God for God’s people.  As crooked and rough as the pathway before us may lie, God can and will always prevail.

As we heard earlier, John’s proclamation recalls Isaiah’s words spoken long ago to a people living in exile under Babylonian rule.  Their holy city, Jerusalem, is in shambles.  The temple has been torn down.  The Davidic line of kingship has seemingly ended.  And yet – and yet – the prophet proclaims a highway in the desert for God’s people – a way through the wilderness that we are challenged to make straight – a highway built by God with and for God’s people – and the promise of the peace that comes when we turn our hearts to God.

We hear John’s call to prepare a place in the wilderness make God’s path straight, and that call sounds paradoxical in the light of our use of the labyrinth as our Advent metaphor.  How does one make straight a path that is intentionally curved?  We think of the tight, one hundred eighty degree turns that we come upon so often in the labyrinth and “make his paths straight” seems counterintuitive.  But the call to repentance is a call to turn around – a call to turn back toward God – and the tight turns of the labyrinth stand as reminders of John’s message to us across the ages. 

The Rev. Lorraine Ljunggren, Rector of St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Raleigh reminds us that “there is a cost to changing directions – repentance in its many forms calls us to do some serious spiritual work.  But, exercising our spiritual muscles strengthens us for the journey of faith as well as the journey of life.  It takes strong spirits to stand up to, and [stand] in the midst of, the pain and suffering of a broken world – [especially when repentance calls us – and calls others – into a place of change].  It takes strong spirits to stand up to, and [stand] in the midst of, the pain and suffering in our own lives.”  “But,” she asks us, “isn’t that what God needs [each of] us to do so, so very much? And, isn’t that what God’s people sitting next to us, or living with or next to us, or living half a world away, need us so very much to do?”

We’re beginning our second week of Advent, and so looking at our journey to the center of the labyrinth we now find ourselves in the quadrant of the circle furthest away from our entry point.  The Baptist comes on the scene reminding us that all too often we drift far from one another and far from the love of God – and when we look at all the violence in the world – including the violence in our own nation – we understand that John is making a valid point.  How easy it is for us to drift away from the center – how easy it is for us to drift away from our fellow human beings and from God.  How easy it is to offer prayers of condolence for the brokenness of this world without ever taking action to help bring about change.   

But like the labyrinth that persistently draws us toward its center, God constantly calls us back into relationship with one another and with God.  And like the peacefulness we can experience as we center ourselves in the midst of walking the labyrinth, God constantly reminds us throughout Advent that we will always have a home in God.  Rarely as we walk the labyrinth is the center or the end point directly in front of us, but the center place of rest and of meeting God is always there.

“Once [a local Rabbi] surprised a group of learned men by asking, ‘where is the dwelling place of God?’

‘What a thing to ask!’ they laughed at him. ‘Is not the whole world full of God's glory?’

 But the [Rabbi] said, ‘God dwells wherever people let him in’” (Martin Buber, quoted in Synthesis Today, 12/3/2015).

As we walk through the labyrinth – as we walk through the season of Advent – as we walk through our lives – we are called to remember that God in Christ – the one we call “Emmanuel” – the one we call God with us – we are called to remember this Advent and always that this God walks with us. 

 

Wandering Through Advent

Advent 1C; Jeremiah 33:14-16; Luke 21:25-36; St. Paul’s Smithfield, NC 11/29/2015 

Over the past few days I’ve been wondering what it might be like to use the labyrinth as a metaphor for the season of Advent.  In fact, my hope for the four Sundays in Advent is that those who wish to do so will use a weekly Advent liturgy for labyrinth walking created by Anglican Priest Sally Welch.  I will be using it on Sunday mornings with the Youth Class at 10:00, and adults are welcome to join in with us. 

Advent reminds us that we are an eternal people in the midst of a mystifying journey, all the while living in a temporal world that is passing away.   In a book on labyrinth walking, author  Lauren Artress suggests that as we walk the labyrinth, we come to understand that we “are not human beings on a spiritual path, but spiritual beings on a human path” (Walking a Sacred Path).  Or, as C.S. Lewis reportedly said, “You don’t have a soul, you are a soul.  You have a body.”

Advent is a time to slow down a bit and pay attention to the journey – a hard thing to do in the midst of the cacophony of sound, and the busyness of the world around us – the busyness of our own hearts.

Advent is meant to be a time of listening for God – a time for preparing to receive the presence of God in our lives.  And I will admit that at times I make the mistake of talking when I should be listening.  Perhaps that happens to you as well.  The first Sunday of Advent rolls around and we’re so busy with the holidays – or so busy with work – or so busy trying to figure out family stuff that so often comes to a head this time of year – we get so busy we forget to listen to one another, we forget to listen to God, and we even forget to listen to our own hearts.  For me, that’s where our labyrinth can come in to play. 

Walking the labyrinth in the quiet of each morning before I sit down at my desk, get on the computer or phone, or meet with someone, gives me the time to pause – to listen – and to reflect.  It’s a time of holiness and a time of wholeness for me.  It might be something God is calling at least some of you to trying during the season.  So, in a nutshell, here’s how I see labyrinth walking as a way of participating in the weekly, and perhaps for some of us daily, rhythm of Advent.

The first week of Advent talks about things that supposedly will happen in the distant future.  The stories of our faith speak of tumultuous times when the Day of the Lord – or the return of Christ will come upon us.  Depending on what liturgical year we are in, we have different visions of cataclysmic endings of the world and of end times.  Year C – the liturgical year we are beginning this morning – has visions in the Gospel of confusion and distress – and visions of Christ returning in great glory. 

But the overall picture we get in Jeremiah, First Thessalonians, and Luke are images of promise even in the midst of the turmoil. 

“The days are surely coming, says the LORD, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah. In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety” (Jeremiah 33:14-15).  Paul prays, “may the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all, just as we abound in love for you. And may he so strengthen your hearts in holiness that you may be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints” (1 Thess. 3:13).  Jesus speaks of our redemption, and tells his disciples that even if heaven and earth were to pass away, his word will not pass away” (Luke 21:28,33), and in that promise we have hope as well.

Whenever we walk the labyrinth we find ourselves at first walking long wide curves out in the distant the edge of the labyrinth.  We know we are headed toward the center – our resting place along the labyrinthian journey.  But the center is still far off, and the end of the journey even further.  The long, wide curves remind us of the journey that will unfold before us.  There will be a time when the turns come more often and each one is a tight turn, bringing with it a complete reversal of direction.  But for now, the journey stretches out before us without haste.  Can we begin our Advent journeys without haste?  Can we begin our journeys without the weight of the world on our shoulders and the busyness of life crashing down upon us?  Are we willing to live with some uncertainty and expectation in our lives – not knowing what comes next, but trusting God to journey with us this Advent?

The journey into the labyrinth is a process of letting go.  This First Sunday of Advent we are invited and challenged to let go of the noisiness and busyness of this world and look to the promise of a new creation centered in our love for God and our love for neighbor.

The second week of Advent John the Baptist will come on the scene and he will call us to make some sharper turns, some 360 degree turns which will quite possibly remind us of what it means to repent – to turn around – to turn back toward God.  We can walk the labyrinth and let go of the brokenness of our world and make a commitment to work for a change to the structures that so often objectify the people of this world.

During the third week of Advent we will move closer to the center circle and the turnings are just as sharp but maybe they feel even sharper because the circle is smaller and we will be reminded of how important it is to find our home in God.  Just as it looks like we’re ready to step into the center of the labyrinth we’re suddenly moving away again.  On this third Sunday we may quite well bristle at hearing John shout out, “You brood of Vipers!  Who warned you to flee the wrath of God?” Hey John, are you talking to me?  He can’t be talking about me, can he? 

He better not be talking about me!  We walk the labyrinth and seek to let go of our own brokenness that separates us from each other and from the love of God in our lives.

Finally the fourth Sunday in Advent will come upon us – this is the Magnificat Sunday, when Mary proclaims her understanding of God's vision for the world – what will one day be called by many “the beatitude Kingdom” – and her son, Jesus, will usher in that kingdom as its king.   We will walk the labyrinth on the fourth Sunday as one way to ready ourselves, a way to ready our souls and bodies, for the coming of the Christ child.  We journey with Mary on that final stage to Bethlehem that we might, with angels and with all the saints of heaven and earth, celebrate the promise of hope in Jesus that we call Christmas.

Advent is meant to remind us that we are eternal people walking a temporal path in a world that is passing away.  We are spiritual beings journeying on a human path.  “You don’t have a soul, you are a soul.”Advent is our opportunity to take time to listen – not just for the angel’s song of good tidings – but take time to listen to God – take time to listen to one another with open hearts – take time to listen to our neighbor with open hearts – and perhaps most importantly, as followers of Jesus, take time to listen with open hearts to those who despair of ever being listened to or heard by anybody.

We are an Advent people – we come to this season with anticipation of a great joy which will be for all people – the advent of Jesus, our Lord and Savior – the advent of our Christmas hearts.