Lessons and Carols Meditation

Christopher H. Edmonston – 12/10/2006

 

            Today we continue our Advent celebrations – we are not alone in this.  All throughout the world and the earth the Christian church stands with us as we wait to celebrate the birth of our Lord on Christmas morn.  And we sing along side them with one voice and with one Holy Spirit uniting us:

           

Prepare the Way O Zion, your Christ in drawing near!

 

Good Christian rejoice, with heart and soul and voice Now ye need not fear the grave Jesus Christ was born to save!  Christ was born to save!  Christ was born to save!

 

In the service of Lessons and Carols we do indeed continue our waiting, our Advent longing for light and joy and peace and hope in the midst of darkness.  The darkness of the world and its penchant for violence and pain.  The darkness of political confusion and uncertainty about the future of our nation and the identity of our people.  The darkness of personal sin and unavoidable tragedy.  The darkness of depression and psychological dysfunction. 

You must decide which one my next statement is, and I’ll let it stand on its own for you to decide:  I say to you in a voice and spirit of conviction that Jesus Christ was sent to overcome darkness and offer the very word of hope in the midst of hopelessness.  And when I do say this, I am either expressing a misguided, impossible fantasy; or, I am expressing the hope of Advent and the heart of Christian faith itself.  You must decide.  We all must each and every Advent, each and every Christmas if we dare to sing these hymns and read these words about darkness and light and the power of God to overcome all things – even death itself.

This is for all of us to decide – from those who never miss a service at their church or live a day without their Bibles and for those who only come at Christmas and who only sing hymns because they don’t want to break their mother’s heart.  Each one of us must decide this:  those who love Jesus and those who’d rather he’d just go away.  I think Flannery O’Connor was right when she wrote, both in fascination and frustration, “Jesus thrown everything off balance.”

When Jesus Christ is present we are called to hope even when hope seems lost.  When Jesus is near we look to the dawn of righteousness and restoration even when the darkness of misery and pain is so oppressive we can barely breathe. 

The service today, the readings, the hymns, which tell the story once more of God’s love and the birth of God’s son.  And they, for their part, and the 2,000 year old witness they represent have made their decision that this Advent hope is not a misguided fantasy or a child-like expression of a Pollyanna world-view.  No, this Advent hope is as real as the night and as bright as the day and we are called to look to it, and look to it, and look to it, and look to it again and again and again until we are gathered up in the communion of all the saints and ushered into our heavenly home.  This great hope, the hope of Christmas and the occasion for Advent, is the very heart of our faith, and if there is any truth in what we are about today, then this is truth for which we must live and tow which we must testify if we are to have any integrity at all as Christians and people of faith. 

 

Good Christian rejoice, with heart and soul and voice Now ye need not fear the grave Jesus Christ was born to save!  Christ was born to save!  Christ was born to save!

 

Christ brings God’s rule, O Zion, He comes from heaven above.  His rule is peace and freedom and justice peace and love.

 

One more thing before we start we start the service of lessons and carols this morning.  Advent has fallen out of vogue, I think in our culture.  It is all about waiting, and we are not too good at waiting.  Long lines make us break out in hives – just say the word waiting room and listen for the groans.

Tougher still, what we wait for in Advent is no easy Sunday morning, it is no simply solved riddle.  It is nothing less than the God incarnate, whose life and light will both save us and judge us at once – it is the paradox of a celestial God in human form; of a savior born to die and rise again and tell us that we might never die.  It is no easy story or “three step” spirituality.  Feel like you are waiting for an easy faith that will ask nothing of you and always be easily explained? – then you are, unfortunately, in the wrong waiting room.  One of favorite books of the last two years tells it like this:

There is a place for the encouraging word, and it is so sweet to trust in Jesus, but the biblical witness is a little muddier than the ‘spirituality’ market usually allows.  More than a book of doctrines or ‘thoughts for the day,’ the Bible is lamentation and longing and wondering (sometimes hopeful) about what God has in mind.  It broadens the doors of perception.  The witness is a blessed assurance certainly, but it doesn’t close the door to questions and plaintive expression.  The ‘How long?’ is in close proximity to the ‘Lord come quickly.’ And a determined trust in the Maker’s goodness makes room for the truthful, embarrassing testimony that we’re sometimes so lonesome we could die. (David Dark – The Gospel According to America)

That is what Advent is, I think.  The intersection of “how long” and “Lord, come quickly.”  That is what to listen for in these readings – the promise to Abraham, the prophecy of Isaiah and Micah, the faith and strength of Mary, the mystery of John.  Listen for that intersection, and wait for Lord.  Only don’t listen and don’t wait passively.  There is a difference, you know, between active and passive waiting.  Passive waiting is waiting for something you are not sure will show up.  Just in case it might be true, I will be there and I will wait.  Like a long lost uncle who may or may not come home for the holidays – if he shows up, wonderful.  If not, then nothing is lost.

And then there is active waiting.  Like children waiting for 4th of July fireworks to begin – if only it’ll get dark enough!  Or like those pictures that we see from Camp LeJune or Fort Bragg, of military families waiting, excruciatingly waiting for loved ones to return for the plane to land, almost dancing in place and bursting with deferred joy with unrelieved hope.  And the plane lands and they erupt with joy – the wait is over!

Advent, should be like that.  We should sing today, like that.  The wait, my friends is almost over.  As you listen once again to the story, I call us all, Christians near and far, to actively wait and trust in the Lord as we have never trusted before.