Monthly Archives: December 2012

whisper words of wisdom

This was my first time preaching in the parish I grew up in as a teenager.  It was especially meaningful to see so many familiar faces, as many people are already home for Christmas.  It was also a perk to see my college New Testament professor on the front row, which reminded me that I once wrote an exegesis on this same passage for her class… and got a bad grade.  She challenged me to look for something more–and I am grateful!  Only downside was my lack of voice.  Despite being the first to bed Saturday night, cups and cups of tea, and lots of TLC… I could barely get out a whisper.  The Rev. Tom Crittenden could not have been a more gracious host, especially under the quiet circumstances.  I hope to come back–next time in “voz alta!”

Fourth Sunday of Advent, Preached at R. E. Lee Memorial Episcopal Church, Lexington, VA

Micah 5:2-5a   *  Hebrews 10:5-10  *  Luke 1:39-55

Oh Lord, uphold thou me that I may uplift thee.  Amen. 

Several weeks ago, when I peaked at the lectionary for the fourth Sunday of Advent to see what I might be preaching on in my childhood parish, I could not help but sing as I opened to Luke’s Gospel.  “My soul doth magnify the Lord…” You see, where I live and worship at seminary, this is a text we sing every evening in chapel.

Immediately, I started thinking of all the cool things I could say about Mary.  How Mary has been depicted in art—from the most grandiose of stained glass windows, to the simplest of roadside shrines.  How Mary has been depicted in music—from Bach’s Magnificat to The Beatle’s Let it be.  All the many ways we encounter Mary in our day-to-day life, and how or why that is.

But then I paused, and realized I was getting carried away.  For if we look at Mary’s words in Luke’s gospel today, we see that every note she sings points not to herself, but to God.  And if we consider that we are a mere two days away from celebrating the birth of Christ, and a mere nine days away from the bloodshed of innocent children and teachers in Sandy Hook—what then do the words in today’s scripture offer us in this moment, now.

We started this morning with words from Micah—a prophet before Jesus’ time.  He says of the coming ruler: “he shall stand and feed his flock in the strength of the Lord…and they shall live secure… and he shall be the one of peace.”  Is this not what we are longing for in this season of Advent and in this time of grief and bewilderment?  Do we not long to be fed, to be strengthened, to be secure—do we not long for peace?  Indeed I believe this to be the cry of our hearts, even as we have cried real tears this week.

And yet, do we believe in this “one of peace” that Micah promises?  We see the word “believe” a lot this time of year.  “Believe” is written across Christmas cards and even across the Macy’s building in New York City.  Depending on whom you ask, the word could be used to describe our desired relationship with Jesus, Santa or both.  Believe.

This is where Mary comes in.  This is where she speaks to us.  It is her response that teaches us how to respond to the events of our lives and to the coming Christ.

When Elizabeth greets Mary she exclaims, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.”  Elizabeth explains her proclamation a bit more when she says, “Blessed is she who believed.”

You all know the story that directly precedes this exchange.  There was young Mary, minding her own business, when the angel of the Lord, Gabriel, came to her and said, “Surprise!  You have found favor with the Lord, and you’re going to have a son, and you’re going to name him Jesus, and he’s going to be the Son of God.”

And blessed, lowly, young Mary responded: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

Wow.  Wow!  Blessed is she who believed indeed!  Here am I.  Let it be.  Quite possibly the bravest words ever spoken by a young girl.

You know my favorite thing about these words?  That they were spoken at all.  Mary is a self-proclaimed servant of the Lord.  The Greek word for servant used here is ἡ δούλη and can also be translated as handmaid or slave.  In other words, Mary didn’t have to say anything at all.  You could argue that she had no choice but to be obedient.  But Mary speaks!  She responds.  She asserts her own agency in the Christmas story.  Here I am, let it be.  Simple, yet powerful words.

Now that we’ve reviewed why it is that Elizabeth calls Mary blessed, let’s see what we can learn from Mary’s song that follows.

Mary exclaims, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.” The words used for soul and spirit, ψυχή and πνεῦμά are used interchangeably throughout the bible and both derive their meaning from the idea of moving air, like breathing. ψυχή and πνεῦμά are not used to connote different parts of our being, but the whole of our being. That which animates us and makes us ourselves is that which rejoices within Mary.

It is the same beingness in Mary that magnifies the Lord.  To magnify is to exult or make great. It is as if Mary’s soul, Mary’s being, is making God bigger. And indeed as Mary’s belly grows with the gestating Son of God, one cannot help but acknowledge the magnification.

While Mary realizes that all generations shall call her blessed, she immediately points to God as the cause of blessing: “for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name.” It is God’s might, God’s deeds, God’s mercy, and God’s strength that Mary exults.  This points to Mary’s humility, contrary to “the proud in the imagination of their hearts” that God scatters. If anyone could “imagine” herself proud, surely it would be the mother of God.  And yet Mary says, no, it is God who deserves the glory.

So how do Mary’s responses of “Here I am… Let it be… Glory to God…” how do they inform our response in this very strange and special moment we find ourselves in?

I think the “Here I am” calls us to be in the present.  It’s not a “Wait just a sec…” or “Were you saying something?” or “I’ll be right with you…” but I’m here.  Right here.  And I’m listening.

The “Let it be” may sound a bit passive, but it’s not.  It would be passive to say nothing at all.  The “Let it be” calls us to believe.  It calls us to acknowledge that which seems crazy and foolish and indescribable and unbelievable—to realize the absurdity of God making Godself a vulnerable, nursing child—to realize the absurdity of a maimed and broken King rising to victory over death—to realize the absurdity of God seeking out the lowly, seeking out us, to make God’s presence bigger and magnified in the world—to look at all of that together and say “Let it be…” I believe.

To believe is a tall order.  And it’s Mary’s “Glory to God” that shows us how to bridge the gap between knowledge and faith.  Mary looks on her own lowliness and seems to say, “I know it’s crazy… but look at God.  Look at all God has done and is doing.”

Did you notice all of Mary’s acclamations are in the past tense?  She’s already living into the promises—God has done great things, God has shown strength, God has scattered the proud and lifted up the lowly, God has fed the hungry.  Not “God will” but “God has.”  The God Mary points to is not far off in the distance, but right there with her.  Because Mary knows she needs God to be with her if she is to have the courage to believe, and we need the same.  Emmanuel.  God with us.

For nine days we have mourned the nonsense of lost little ones.  In two days we’ll celebrate the nonsense of God with skin on.  The vulnerability of these two moments is not lost on us.  And it’s hard to know how to respond.

But we look to Mary today, and we hear her response.  And it is my prayer that we will find in Mary’s song the courage to sing our own song of: Here I am… Let it be… Glory to God.

Amen.

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Empezando Con El Fin: Jesús Al Revés

Primer Domingo De Adviento, Iglesia de San Mateo & San Timoteo, Nueva York

Jeremías 33,14-16  *  Salmo 24  *  1 Tesalonicenses 3,12–4,2  *  San Lucas 21,25-28.34-36

¡Ya llegó!  ¡Ya llegó!  Finalmente ya está aquí.  La estación que esperamos, el tiempo de anhelo.  Aquí estamos en el primer domingo de Adviento, el comienzo de un año nuevo en la iglesia.  Quizás piensan que el evangelio que leemos hoy debería haber dicho algo como: ¡Estén listos—un niño viene quien va a cambiar el mundo!  En vez de eso, tenemos a Jesús hablando, como hombre, sobre el fin de tiempo.  ¿Por qué empezamos con el fin?  Es como leer la última página de un libro antes de mirar al capítulo uno.

Este es el punto de Adviento: Estamos preparando el camino del Señor.  Cantamos, “Oh ven, oh ven, Emanuel”  Miramos a nuestros calendarios de Adviento en expectativa del Cristo que viene (yo prefiero los calendarios con los chocolates para comer cada día).  Pero la manera mejor de prepararse para Cristo, ya sea la primera venida o la segunda, es estar presente.  Jesús nos dice en el evangelio de San Lucas: hay que vivir en el presente.  Y esas palabras son tan verdaderas cuando nos preparamos para la Navidad como cuando nos preparamos para el fin del tiempo también.

¿Qué, exactamente es esta idea del fin de los tiempos?  Cuando Jesús dice, “La gente se desmayará de miedo al pensar en lo que va a sucederle al mundo,” Jesús habla de un tipo específico del mundo.  No es el mundo en general—la palabra en el Griego es kosmos.  Pero la palabra en Griego que se usa aquí es ouikoumene, que se refiere específicamente al mundo económico y político.  Es casi como si Jesús estuviese aquí in este momento exacto, hablando a nosotros.  Jesús no está gritando, “!Es el fin del mundo!” Pero dice, “Es el fin del mundo como lo conocemos.”

En los tiempos de Jesús, Roma era el opresor del que todos querían ser libre.  Nuestra lección de Jeremías también indica los varios opresores de esa época en Jerusalén.  Y a nosotros, ¿Qué nos oprime?  ¿de que deseamos ser libre?  Quizás dificultades económicas y disturbios políticos como en el día de Jesús y Jeremías?  Claro.  ¿Qué más deseamos y esperamos?  ¿Igualdad y justicia social?  ¿Curación en nuestro mundo, nuestra iglesia y nuestros cuerpos?  ¿Restablecimiento de las relaciones y el amor?  ¿Quizás deseamos algo tan simple como una hora adicional de dormir, o bien tiempo para ponerse al día en el trabajo?

La cosa interesante del anhelo es que nunca nos deja.  Aún si obtenemos lo que deseamos, otra idea o persona o cosa captura nuestro anhelo otra vez.  Hace dos años, estaba predicando durante Adviento en mi iglesia, y mencioné como yo añoraba que mi novio pidiera mi mano en matrimonio.  Pues, él lo hizo.  Y yo fui desde ese deseo de ser comprometida al anhelo de estar casada.  Y ahora, como somos casados, deseo tener hijos.  Siempre hay algo,  ¿verdad?

No es fácil estar presente cuando hay tanto que anhelar.  Jesús lo entiende.

Adviento es el tiempo de anhelo.  Verdad.  Y empezamos este tiempo hoy con las palabras de Jesús: “Tengan cuidado y no dejen que sus corazones se hagan insensibles por los vicios, las borracheras y las preocupaciones de esta vida…Estén ustedes preparados.” Prepárense por la mañana prestando atención hoy.  No dejen que su anhelo por el regreso de Cristo interrumpa su mirada en la presencia de Cristo en este momento, ahora.

Jesús nos dice que la venida del Señor será obvia.  Que nadie necesita mostrárnosla, pero que la reconoceremos por nosotros mismos, casi como los brotes en los árboles que significan que el verano  viene, y las hojas que caen de los árboles que significan que el invierno viene.

Pues, ¿lo ves?  ¿Ves los signos de Cristo que están presente en tu vida?  ¿Ves el reino de Dios en tu mundo?  O quizás nuestro anhelo por lo que viene nos impide ver lo que ya ha llegado.

Eso es lo que Adviento significa.  Estamos preparándonos para el fin del tiempo a la misma vez que nos preparamos para el nacimiento de Cristo porque vivimos en el espacio entre las dos llegadas—vivimos en la tensión que abarca lo que ha sido y lo que está por venir.  Vivimos en el presente.  Y Jesús nos recuerda y nos enseña y nos invita a vivir en el presente para que no faltemos a lo que esperamos.

¿Quieres estar listo?  Pues, “amínense y levanten la cabeza,” dice Jesús, “porque muy pronto serán libertados.”  No se siente allí en sueño, anímense y levanten la cabeza.

Has visto algunos de los cruzados en nuestra ciudad, usualmente en las calles más anchas con los paseos de bicicletas, algunas tienen la palabra “LOOK”  “MIRA” pintado entre las rayas blancas.  Yo imagino que esas palabras existan para captar la atención de la gente que camina mirando a sus pies, ignorantes de con qué ellos podrían toparse o lo que podría toparse con ellos.  Pero para mí, la palabra “MIRA” pintado en la calle tiene el efecto opuesto.  Uno de esos cruzados está en frente del Hospital Bellevue donde yo trabajé este verano.  Más de una vez yo fui casi golpeada por un coche que da vuelta o por una ciclista porque la palabra “MIRA” captó mi atención, hasta que me olvidé mirar.

Jesús dice, “amínense y levanten la cabeza.”  Él dice, “pueden ver por si mismo.”  Él dice, “Estén preparados en cada momento.”

Jesús dice, “cuando vean que suceden estas cosas, sepan que el reino de Dios ya está cerca.”  El reino de Dios ya está cerca!  El reino de Dios estuvo presente cuando Dios se encarnó en el hombre de Jesús hace más de dos mil años pasado.  Y el reino de Dios reinará cuando el mundo como lo conocemos termina.  Pero el reino de Dios no solo existe en el pasado o en el futuro—¡el reino de Dios ya está cerca!  ¡Está aquí en el presente, con nosotros, atrapado entre lo que ha sido y lo que está por venir.

Sabemos el comienzo de la historia—conocemos el fin.  Nosotros vivimos en la tensión entre los dos, vivimos en el presente, vivimos en esperanza, vivimos en anhelo.  Amínense! Levanten la cabeza!  El reino de Dios ya está cerca.

[English Translation]

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Beginning at the End: Jesus in Reverse

First Sunday of Advent, Preached at St. Matthew & St. Timothy Church, New York City

Jeremiah 33:14-16  *  Psalm 25:1-10  *  1 Thessalonians 3:9-13  *  Luke 21:25-26

It’s here!  It’s here!  It’s finally here!  The season we’ve all been longing for—the season, in fact, of longing.  Here we are in the first Sunday of Advent, the start of a new church year.  You might think our Gospel reading would say something along the lines of: get ready—a baby is about to be born who is going to change the world!  Instead we have Jesus speaking, as a grown man, about the end of times.  Why are we starting at the end?  It’s like reading the last page of a book before even looking at Chapter 1.

Here’s the thing about Advent.  We are preparing the way of the Lord.  We are singing, Oh Come, Oh Come, Emmanuel.  We are checking our advent calendars in expectation of the coming of Christ (I prefer the kind with different chocolate shapes to eat each day).  But the best way to prepare for the coming of Christ, whether it’s the first coming or the second, is to be present.  Jesus tells us in Luke’s Gospel to live in the present—and those words ring just as true as we prepare for Christmas as they do in preparation for the end of time.

What exactly is this “end of times” notion?  When Jesus says, “People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world,” Jesus is speaking of a certain kind of world.  Not just the world in general—the Greek word for that is kosmos.  But the Greek word used here is ouikoumene, which refers more specifically to the economic and political world.  Gosh, you’d almost think that Jesus was right here in this room speaking to us today.  Jesus isn’t shouting, “It’s the end of the world!”  He’s saying, “It’s the end of the world as we know it.”

In Jesus’ time, Rome was the oppressor everyone longed to be free from.  Our reading from Jeremiah likewise points to the various powers of oppression that ruled over Jerusalem.  What is it that oppresses us?  What is it that we long to be freed from?  Is it economic hardship and political unrest, like in Jesus and Jeremiah’s day?  Sure.  What else do we long for?  Social justice and equality?  Healing in our world, church, and bodies?  Restored relationships and love?  Or do we long for something as simple as an extra hour of sleep or a few days to catch up on life and work?

The funny thing about longing is that it never goes away.  Even if we attain what it is we long for, another idea or person or thing soon captures our longing once again.  Two years ago I was preaching during Advent, and I mentioned how I was longing for my boyfriend at the time to ask my hand in marriage.  Well he did, and I went from longing to be engaged to longing to me married.  And now that we’re married I long to have kids.  It’s always something, isn’t it?

It’s hard to be present when there is so much to long for.  Jesus gets that.

Advent is a season of longing.  True.  And we start that season off today with Jesus’ words: “Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life… Be alert at all times.”  Prepare for tomorrow by paying attention today.  Don’t let your longing for the coming of Christ get in the way of you seeing Christ’s presence in the here and now.

Jesus tells us that the coming of the Lord will be plain as day.  That no one will have to point it out to us, but that we will recognize it for ourselves, just as surely as we know that the buds on the trees signify the coming summer, and the leaves falling off the trees signify the coming winter.

Well… do you? Do you see the signs of Christ present in your life?  Do you see glimpses of the kingdom of God in your every day world?  Or does our longing for what is to come keep us from seeing that which is already here?

That is what Advent is really about.  We are preparing for the end of times even as we prepare for the birth of Christ because we live in that space in between—we live in the tension that spans what has been and what is yet to come.  We live in the present.  And Jesus reminds us and teaches us and exhorts us to live in the present so that we do not miss that which we hope and long for.

You want to be ready?  Well then, “stand up and raise your heads,” Jesus says, “ because your redemption is drawing near.”  Don’t sit there and day dream—stand up and raise your heads.

Have you seen how some of the crosswalks in the city, usually ones on a wider street with a bike path, some of them have the word “LOOK” painted right there in the stripes as you’re stepping off the curb?  Well I imagine these words are meant to grab the attention of people looking down, perhaps texting on their phones as they walk, oblivious of what they might run into or what might run into them.  But I find that the word “LOOK” painted on the crosswalk has the opposite effect on me.  One such crosswalk happens to be on First Avenue, right out in front of Bellevue Hospital where I worked this summer.  On more than one occasion I was nearly hit by a turning car or a cyclist simply because the word “LOOK” grabbed my attention, so that I forgot to actually look up.

Jesus says, “stand up and raise your heads.”  He says,  “you can see for yourselves.”  He says, “be alert at all times.”

Jesus says, “when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near.”  The kingdom of God is near!  The kingdom of God was present when God became incarnate in the person of Jesus over 2000 years ago.  And the kingdom of God will reign when the world as we know it comes to an end—whenever that will be.  But the kingdom of God is not just way back there in the past or way up there in the future—the kingdom of God is near.  It is right here in the present, right here with us, caught between what has been and what is to come.

We know the beginning of the story—we know the end of the story.  We live in the tension in between, we live in the present, and we live in hope.  Stand up!  Raise your heads! The kingdom of God is near.

Amen.

[Spanish Translation]

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