Saturday, January 19, 2013

Expecting

( Scriptures: Micah 5:2-5a; Hebrews 10:5-10; Luke 1:39-55 )



 “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas……”  The Mayan calendar has ended, but we have not – and so Christmas day will soon be upon us.


I don’t know about you, but I always enjoy the last day or two before Christmas.  The days immediately following Thanksgiving are filled with crowded malls and office parties and cards to mail and such – much of which feels like chores to be done rather than blessings to be enjoyed, much of which leaves me exhausted rather than exhilarated.   But finally, at some point, the mall crowds and office parties are past, and any last minute cards likely won’t get to their destination in time anyway, so why bother….and so I can exhale…..and inhale….and take in something of the spirit of the season.

 
The lectionary feels a bit like that also, as the readings make a transition on this last Sunday in Advent.  During the past three weeks we’ve been pondering ominous prophecies about the 2nd coming of Christ and listening to annoying, demanding voices like those of John the Baptist.  But now things shift, the men are shoved offstage for the moment, and two women – two pregnant women – take center stage, Elizabeth and Mary.  Elizabeth, the wife of Zechariah the priest, living in the hill country of Judea, and her cousin Mary, living up to the north, way out in Galilee.  Both are expecting, and in both cases this is unexpected; in Elizabeth’s case, because she had been barren and was getting on in years, and in Mary’s case because she had not been intimate with a man.  We’re told that Mary set out with haste from Galilee to the hill country of Judea – quite a long journey – and Mary kept Elizabeth company during the last three months of her pregnancy.  What they must have talked about during those three months – yes, Elizabeth’s increasing discomfort as the time for her delivery approached, but also their questions – how did the two of us ever wind up in such a strange situation anyway? – and their hopes and dreams for the children growing within them.  And what dreams Mary had! – she sings that through the child within her, God has shown strength with his arm and has scattered the proud, brought down the powerful and lifted up the lowly, fed the hungry and sent the rich away empty.  Mary’s son isn’t even born yet, and she’s expecting that through this baby, God will somehow turn the world upside down – or maybe, to be more accurate, will somehow set our upside-down world right side up.  And she sings of all this as if it’s already happened, as if it’s already a done deal.

 
Over these four weeks of Advent, we’ve lit the candles on our Advent wreath.  Of course, we associate these candles with hope, peace, joy, and love…but perhaps we can also associate them with the words of the prologue of John’s Gospel, that “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”

 
Mary and Elizabeth lived in a world in which there was great darkness – looming behind every aspect of their lives was the Roman occupation, the heavy taxes that went to pay for Herod’s building projects, the harsh dealings with Rome’s army of occupation and with their tax collectors.  And yet God said nothing about somehow turning off the darkness, making the darkness go away, but rather shining a light in the darkness that the darkness could neither comprehend it nor overcome it.   The darkness was based largely in fear – Rome’s fear of threats from within and without, Herod’s fear of losing his throne, the peoples’ fear of incurring the wrath of Rome – and their fear of incurring God’s wrath if they failed to follow the dictates of the religious establishment of the day – and at least the Jerusalem temple religious establishment was working hand-in-glove with Rome.  But remember the words of the angels to Zechariah and to Mary – “Do not be afraid.”  Because perfect love casts out fear.  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

 
We also live in a time of great darkness.  We live in a country in which fear runs rampant – fear of being attacked by other countries, fear of being attacked by our neighbors, fear of not having enough, fear of losing what little we do have, fear of those who are different from us, who we consider “other” – and in America we’re very good at “othering” our neighbors - fear and regret over the past, fear and anxiety for the future.  Like the Roman empire into which Jesus was born, ours is a violent culture, and just as Rome did, in America we respond to our fear, among other ways, by arming ourselves to the teeth.  

 
The words of the angels to Zechariah and to Mary are the words of the angels to us – “Do not be afraid.  God is still in the process of bringing new life, and so our lives, and the life of this congregation, are expectant, pregnant with possibility.   And so we acknowledge the darkness – kind of hard not to, though many try – but we are not controlled by the darkness.   Instead, we let the light of Christ shine in us, and so our lives, and that of Emanuel Church, are like candles against the darkness…seemingly insignificant, seemingly always on the verge of being blown out by a stray gust of wind, but still there.  In this connection, I’d like to share a 2009 article, from the newspaper USA Today, of all places, about the power of candles in the darkness.

 

The church that helped bring down the Berlin Wall
 
Posted 11/5/2009 4:51 PM | Comment | Recommend
By Deborah Potter, Religion & Ethics NewsWeekly
LEIPZIG, Germany — St. Nikolai Evangelical Lutheran Church hasn't changed much since the 16th century. Bach once played the organ here and the music remains alluring, but it is the church's more recent history in the last days of the Cold War and its role in the fall of the Berlin Wall that draw tourists today.
The Rev. Christian Fuhrer became the pastor at St. Nikolai in 1980, when the world was divided by the Cold War between the Soviet Union and the United States. Germany itself was split in two, most visibly by the wall the East German government — the German Democratic Republic— built in Berlin in 1961 in an attempt to keep its people from fleeing to the West.
In the GDR, atheism was the norm. Churches like St. Nikolai were spied on but allowed to remain open.
"In the GDR, the church provided the only free space," Fuhrer said in an interview with Religion & Ethics NewsWeekly. "Everything that could not be discussed in public could be discussed in church, and in this way the church represented a unique spiritual and physical space in which people were free."
In the early 1980s, Fuhrer began holding weekly prayers for peace.
Every Monday, worshippers recited the Beatitudes from the Sermon on the Mount. Few came at first, but attendance grew as the Soviet Union began opening to the West.
The prayer service, Fuhrer said, "was something very special in East Germany. Here a critical mass grew under the roof of the church — young people, Christians and non-Christians, and later, those who wanted to leave (East Germany) joined us and sought refuge here."
As a college student in those years, Sylke Schumann was one of the hundreds, then thousands, who joined the vigils in the sanctuary at St. Nikolai and then marched in the streets holding candles and calling for change.
"Seeing all these people gather in this place ... from week to week and more and more people gathering, you had the feeling this time really the government had to listen to you," Schumann said.
In October 1989, on the 40th anniversary of the GDR, the government cracked down.
Protesters in Leipzig were beaten and arrested. Two days later, St. Nikolai Church was full to overflowing for the weekly vigil. When it was over, 70,000 people marched through the city as armed soldiers looked on, but did nothing.
"I remember it was a cold evening, but you didn't feel cold, not just because you saw all the lights, but also because you saw all these people, and it was, you know, it was really amazing to be a part of that, and you felt so full of energy and hope," Schumann said.
"For me, it still gives me the shivers thinking of that night. It was great."
"In church," Fuhrer said, "people had learned to turn fear into courage, to overcome the fear and to hope, to have strength. They came to church and then started walking, and since they did not do anything violent, the police were not allowed to take action.
"(East German officials) said, 'We were ready for anything, except for candles and prayer.'"
Jesus and the Sermon on the Mount were Fuhrer's primary motivations, but he also drew inspiration from German pastor and Nazi martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer as well as Gandhi and the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Fuhrer said King "prepared and executed this idea of nonviolence, peaceful resistance, in a wonderful way. Then it became our turn to apply the teachings of the Sermon on the Mount here in Leipzig."
Just a month after the massive demonstration, the wall between East and West Berlin came down. The church had sent a powerful message to the world: the East German government no longer controlled its people.
"If any even ever merited the description of 'miracle' that was it," Fuhrer said. "A revolution that succeeded, a revolution that grew out of the church. It is astonishing that God let us succeed with this revolution."
Fuhrer, who retired last year at 65, as required by the church, has written a book about those historic days. St. Nikolai itself has gone back to being a parish church, its congregations not much larger than before the demonstrations.
But Fuhrer said he and his fellow worshippers didn't do what they did back then to draw people to the church.
"We did it," he said, "because the church has to do it."

 

And let me close with these words from Howard Thurman, whom the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. counted as one of his spiritual mentors:

 

“I will light candles at Christmas

Candles of joy, despite all sadness,

Candles of hope where despair keeps watch.

Candles of courage for fears ever present,

Candles of peace for tempest-tossed days,

Candles of grace to ease heavy burdens,

Candles of love to inspire all my living,

Candles that will burn all the year long.”

 

Amen.

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