Always Christmas
Lessons:
Canticle 15:
The Magnificat
Micah 5: 2-5a
Hebrews 10:5-10
Luke 1:39-45
The Collect:
Purify our
conscience, Almighty God, by your daily visitation, that your Son Jesus Christ,
at his coming, may find in us a mansion prepared for himself; who lives and
reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.
Amen.
Well, we have once again averted apocalypse. Maybe we should keep a
record of every time this happens; having such a tally might help us to
maintain perspective. At this time of year, when the scripture lessons point to
the end of time and the Second Coming of Christ, the added element of the
ominous Mayan calendar prediction of world’s end could make anyone a bit jumpy.
I’m not sure what it is in human nature that causes so many of us to
be fascinated by the idea of Armageddon, but it does appear that we greatly
prefer the thought of collective annihilation to any reflection on our
own personal removal from this earthly realm, a fate that will come to each of
us in due time. Our preparation in
Advent for both the birth and the Second Coming of Jesus Christ may have that
very purpose—to turn our thoughts to an honest appraisal of our lives, of their
meaning, and of their ultimate end. Christ’s glorious birth, his brief but
world-changing ministry, and his violent death at a young age are components of
a larger story—a story fulfilled by his resurrection and the promise it holds
for us that there will be life after this life.
So, once again, I ask the question—why do some of us spend so much time and energy thinking
about Armageddon? Why do we worry about the end of time? A prophecy like that
of the Mayan calendar disrupts our usual idea of apocalypse as something that
could only happen in the far-distant future. We prefer to keep it there. Yet,
every generation faces its own apocalypse. All of the people of the generation
that founded Graves Chapel, for example, are no longer with us. While they were
here, they lived from day to day, just as we do, enjoying their blessings and
enduring their hardships. Stepping
out in faith, they kept this little church going, bequeathing it to succeeding
generations. They knew, as we do, that a life lived in Christ contains much
more than time’s calendar can measure. That is the message and the hope of
Advent. Even though we look forward to celebrating the joyous birth of an
innocent baby, Advent reminds us of the rest of Christ’s story and all that it
means.
When Mary goes to visit her older cousin Elizabeth, who is finally
expecting a child, we imagine Mary seeks wisdom and nurturing advice. After
all, Mary has just been visited by the angel Gabriel and finds herself
surprisingly pregnant. The encounter between the two women, recorded in Luke 1,
reveals that each of them recognized the significance of the child she bore.
Yes, there is the joy and fearful anticipation all expectant mothers feel, but
there is also an understanding that their sons’ lives will follow an uncommon,
difficult trajectory.
Elizabeth reports that the child in her womb, who would grow up to
become John the Baptist, leapt at the sound of Mary’s voice. Elizabeth
exclaims, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.
And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me?” This is the blessing and affirmation
Mary needs from her cousin; at this point in Mary’s story it seems likely she
has not confided in anyone that she is pregnant. Now, before she has a chance to tell Elizabeth, not only
does the older woman know, but the great-prophet-to-be Elizabeth carries also
knows. They know that the infant in Mary’s womb is the long-expected Lord and
Savior.
Mary’s eloquent response, so aptly called the Magnificat, is filled with hope and exultation for all of the
things this Son of hers will mean for her people—for the poor and oppressed,
the downtrodden children of Israel, who have wandered for too long in a
spiritual wilderness, waiting for a sign from God. “He has mercy on those who
fear him in every generation,” Mary says. In this speech, a very young woman
speaks about the passage and the fullness of time, as if the baby she carries
has already accomplished all the things expected of him. God, in choosing her
as the vessel for the savior’s birth, “has cast down the mighty from
their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good
things, and the rich he has sent away empty.” Yes, she is speaking of the
history of God’s relationship with the people of Israel. But she is also
speaking of the future, when the child she carries will change the world. As we now know, that change was not
something Jesus would live to see. Nor did Mary. However, the world has now
existed through two millennia with the message of Jesus Christ, a message of
peace and brotherly love, still holding sway in the hearts of many.
As
the collect for today states, it is not just the words of Jesus that live on in
the hearts of contemporary Christians. We believe that Christ himself, through
the Holy Spirit, is ever with us and within us. Advent asks us to remember our
eternal guest, to keep our souls ready and open to receive Him. “Purify our
conscience, Almighty God, by your daily visitation,” the collect says. Mindful
that Christ comes to us at any time we turn our hearts toward him, we are
called to cleanse our interior space so “that, at his coming, He may find in us
a mansion prepared for himself.” The child born in the town of Bethlehem, in a place reserved
for the beasts, deserves nothing less from us than the best lodging we have to
offer.
Time’s
calendar and the church’s calendar bring us full circle during this season of
the year. Our preparations for
Christ’s birth and for the ringing in of a new year signal opportunities for
new beginnings. That we revisit these same festivals and bring out the same old
ornaments and recipes every December suggests the human need for new
beginnings. As the collect for
Christmas says, “O
God, you make us glad by the yearly festival of the birth of your only Son
Jesus Christ: Grant that we, who joyfully receive him as our Redeemer, may with
sure confidence behold him when he comes to be our Judge.” Past, present and
future, Christ’s and our own, are tied together in our celebrations. In the
fullness of time, time itself is redeemed for us. What a great blessing!
My
little granddaughter, Lillian Grace, celebrated her 4th birthday on
Thursday, December 20th. One of the presents I gave her is a book I
bought during the Advent of her birth year, when I was waiting in great joy and
anticipation for the birth of my first grandchild. The beautiful picture book
is called Little One, We Knew You’d Come. This is the way it begins: “We hoped. We dreamed. We watched for
you. We counted the days till you were due. We waited. How we longed for you
and the day that you were born.”
These are the thoughts of every expectant parent or grandparent. They
also must have been Mary’s thoughts. In fact, the gorgeous illustrations for
the book are scenes from the story of Jesus’s birth. In the first pages, Mary is riding a donkey led by Joseph.
Then, we see them in the stable. The book says, “It was late at night. The time
had come. The time for you to come, my love. You’ll be here soon. We’re ready
for you and the day that you were born. Little one, we knew you’d come.” Notice the intermingling of past,
present, and future in those words. It WAS late at night. You WILL be here soon.
We ARE ready. The day that you
WERE born. Our celebrations of
this season exist in that timeless way. So does the Lord, about whom we say He
was, is, and ever shall be.
In
the next section of Little One, We Knew
You’d Come, the baby is born. “By silver stars, and golden moon, at break
of dawn, you came.” The shepherds
gathered by night on the hillside and the star that leads the wise men to the
stable—we have always believed the baby Jesus arrived in the night. This sweet
story suggests it could have been toward the break of dawn, appropriate for the
world’s new beginning. Finally, the story ends with these words: “And every
year, we remember you, our miracle child, our dreams come true. Oh, how we
thank heaven for you! And the day that you were born!”
Are
these not the words that any parent (or grandparent) could speak on the birthday
of a beloved child? Have we not all been such a child at some time in the past,
and doesn’t that child, like the Christ child, still live on within us? As we look forward to the celebration
of the birth of Christ, let us never forget that the true way to honor that
birth is to love each and every child of God we encounter.
I
pray that we may we make the mansions in our hearts big enough to hold all
God’s children.
Amen.
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