Sunday, December 3, 2017

BACK HERE AGAIN

December 3, 2017
Advent 1
(prayer)
Although I have been serving as this church’s minister for more than seventeen years, if you are new to St. David’s this fall, I may be an unfamiliar face.
The last time I was in this pulpit was more than four months ago.  Since then, I have enjoyed the gift of a time of sabbatical - relieved from my regular ministry duties - to give thought and spirit to renewal and learning. 
I highlighted some of what I have been up to in the most recent church newsletter that is available at the back and through a link on the church’s facebook page.
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As good as my sabbath time was (and it was), it is good to be back.
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I know that the calendar says that we are in the month of December.  I know that today is the first Sunday of Advent … the first day of a new liturgical year within the church: Christmas tree, lots of blue.
And yet, I must confess that…
I feel out of time.  It just doesn't feel like we are as late into the year as we actually are.
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Normally, when I have a few weeks in a row away from leading Sunday services, it is in the summer: I suspect that as long as I have school age kids, I will take my holiday time in July or August. 
Those rare times that I get to attend church somewhere else (simply as an attendee), it is usually the summer. 
During my sabbatical, most weeks, I was able to be a butt in a pew; I visited a number of other United Churches in our area over the past several months.  But, unless I forced myself to appreciate the truth of the fall calendar, those times felt like summer services… because that has been my experience most years.
In fact, on a Sunday in late October, I came to church here (Phyllis Greenslade was the worship leader).  During that service, the senior choir sang a lovely anthem: and I actually caught myself thinking: gee, I wonder why the choir is singing in the summer. What’s the special occasion?
My personal experience of temporal paradox probably was enhanced by the fact that I actually planned out the basics of this December 3rd service way back in July.
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Perhaps, it is a sign of a successful sabbatical that I got stuck in time for a while.
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But, no more.  There is no more avoiding the facts that
     a new church year has begun,
     the candle of hope is a-blaze, and (that)
     Christmas is only 22 days away (three little weeks as of tomorrow).
As followers of Jesus, we have come full circle.  We are back at the beginning… again.
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The two scripture readings that I chose for this first Sunday of Advent come from the suggested lessons for today as laid out in the Revised Common Lectionary.  The RCL offers a three year cycle of readings to cover the Sundays between Advent 1 and Reign of Christ Sunday.
It is quite possible that three and six and nine (and 3n) years ago, these same bible verses may have illuminated those first Sundays of Advent of the past.  I didn’t go back in the records to check, but I wouldn't be surprised.
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As I reflect on Isaiah 64 and Mark 13 this year, I see reminders to be mindful of the moment we are in - even as we think about where we have been … and to look forward to the future we hope for.
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The whole of Mark chapter 13 is a record of Jesus teaching his followers about the hope that (one day) God would re-create the world in to one where peace and righteous reigned.
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The discussion all began with these northern rural peasants gawking at the large buildings of Jerusalem.  Jesus took the opportunity to remind them that even those carefully crafted stones would not last forever: “[one day]”, Jesus said, “all [of these great buildings] will be thrown down”.  Naturally, the disciples wanted to know when this would happen, but - as we heard today - Jesus simply encouraged them to remain faithful and focused and watchful... in the moment they found themselves in.
Stay Awake! was Jesus’ advice.
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The final eleven chapters of the book of Isaiah come from a time (within the history of the Israelites) called The Post-Exile Restoration.
Around the turn of the 6th century BCE, the Babylonian Empire gained control of the lands of Judah.  Although, the fortified walls of Jerusalem held off the invaders for a time (while the countryside came under Empire control), eventually, even the city was overrun; its temple was looted and left in ruins; and a significant portion of the population (including political and religious leaders along with some ordinary citizens) were/was forced to relocate to refugee camps by the Rivers of Babylon. The Empire forced them into exile - quite an effective (if not extreme) population control technique.
The basic reality was… that the stability that the Judeans had known since the time of King David was over.
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About 70 years later, the shifting sands of empires saw the rise of the Persians (at the expense of the Babylonians) and new leadership allowed the Judeans to return.  After almost three-quarters of a century, the returnees were made up (mostly) of new generations, who had been born in exile).
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It is the voice of these post-exile judeans (the majority of whom who had never lived in - or even seen - Judah) that we hear in the words of Isaiah 64.
In the verses today, we hear the hard struggle of restoring a memory long gone. The prophet knows that restoring a nation, a community, a faith is long, hard, frustrating (even disappointing) work.
They might long for God to simply make it all better - to shake the ruins back to their former glory. 
They might long for a holy re-set. 
They want their global status back.  But…
their faith history reminds them that this is not how God works: the people are the vehicles of God’s action… the work of restoration will be done by the Judeans, with a faith that their God has made them (equipped them) for this task.
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“Restoration" might sound like the people were bringing their past into the present.  In reality, they are building something new.
The Judah that would (and did) emerge after the exile was a very different one than the nation that preceded the time in Babylon.
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Extrapolating that theme to our context today… although Advent comes around every year - always beginning four Sundays before December 25th - and although, following a lectionary can result in repeated bible readings every few years, this is a new advent that comes into our midst today.
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Therein lies the challenge before us: to avoid just repeating ourselves and  to approach this season with fresh hearts, minds and souls.
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Throughout my sabbatical, I was exploring ways to be workin in and with the church during times of transition.  While it is true that we are guardians of an old, old story, we are also disciples of the Living God.
Much of who we are now has been framed in the traditions and practices and proclamations of the past… and yet we do not exist (simply) as testaments to history, we are disciples of the Living God.
Advent does not lead us back to God’s incarnation that began with Mary’s child’s first breaths.
Advent guides us in the present... so that we can experience a sacredness - the presence of God - in this moment in time.
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I appreciate that this can be challenging.
Finding thin times and places (as the ancient celts, called them) - where the human and divine realms seem especially close - is not easy, given the busyness and complexity of the modern experience.
There is a lot to occupy our attention now a days:
     People’s calendars can fill up pretty fast, especially at this time of year.  We seem to place less value on empty time in today’s world.  There is a sense that if every moment isn't filled, opportunities have been lost.  Recently, I binge-watched both Netflix season’s of Stranger Things, which is set in 1983/84: no cell phones, no computers, no instant GPS tracking (parents needed their kids to find a landline line phone to check in with home).  But, we are living in 2017, not 1984.
     Although, in a throwback to cold war tensions of the early 80s, we have our own nuclear war worries with North Korean missile launches and Twitter name-calling and taunts by world leaders.  Diplomacy has become a lost art in some circles.
     Anger and hatred dominates the news.  We see it in violent rhetoric, wars, terrorist acts and mass shootings so often that the call to offer Thoughts and Prayers has become routine.
     Given all this, is it surprising that (in some communities, especially south of the border) people are escaping into ever-increasing addictive drugs?
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I know... that (in spite of the joy that this season is meant to engender) hope can be hard to come by.
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Hard.  But not beyond our best efforts.
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We need hope.
Our world needs hope.
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The story of Yeshua ben Yosef ve’Miriam (Jesus, son of Mary and Joseph: the Christ) - and the proclamations of his followers - is founded in hope and promise.
Writing to early Christians in Corinth, the Apostle Paul had these hopful words: “...The grace of God… has been given you in Christ Jesus. For, in every way, you have been enriched in him, in speech and knowledge of every kind — just as the testimony of Christ has been strengthened among you — so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ.” (1Cor1:4-7)
Finding hope in hard times is a gift… a spiritual gift.  And we are people touched by spirit.
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A challenge that we (as 2017 followers of Jesus) might want to take on is be intent on highlighting the new hope that is in our midst.
We can be intentional about noticing and promoting the goodness and mercy that is in our world and communities, even if this goodness tends to lose airtime to the purveyors of hate and anger.
Look hard for the good.
Notice it.
Appreciate it.
But noticing and promoting hope is not enough.
Just like thoughts and prayers can’t be the only response to violence.
We are to make hope real by living out the compassion and justice of Christ.
Notice the good.  Yes.
Appreciate it. Yes.
But more so… create it.
We are sufficiently gifted to create new goodness in this world.  We can be who our God knows we can be.
     To the lonely soul, we can be a companion.
     For the hungry, we can share the fruits of our table.
     In the face of bigotry, we can insist on equality.
     At the sound of insults, we can speak of a dignity for all.
     When we are told that it is smart to hide behind walls and to pre-emptively bring hurt to those who frighten us, we can proclaim a wisdom founded in reclamation, rehabilitation, and forgiveness.
     In our most self-reliant, I don't need anyone moment, we can be open to the generosity and compassion of others.
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Bit by bit - day by day - in the small ways that always accumulate into big changes - we can bring hope into the lives of neighbours and strangers alike.  We do this by moving beyond pondering and meditation.  Hope comes into our world through our lived out and active thought and prayers.
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Let us pray:
God of Hope, as we begin our annual pilgrimage to Bethlehem, may we discover how we can shine the love of Christ today. 
Amen.

****Offering****


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