4th Sunday of Advent, 1st Congregational UCC, Rock Springs, WY

Moving Toward the Future
By Rev Steven R Mitchell
Micah 5:2-5a; Hebrews 10:5-10; Luke 1:39-55
4th Sunday of Advent, Rock Springs, WY 12/20/09


As I was preparing for today’s reflection on our Lectionary texts I discovered some marvelous thoughts from the United Church of Christ’s website. So today, I would like to share with you some of the perspectives that I was blessed to read.
“We’ve just heard three weeks of preaching from Jesus and John the Baptist, those prophets out of the wilderness, about world-shaking events, part judgment, part exhortation to get our lives turned around in preparation for what is to come. In this week’s unique situation, we have, in a sense, four unlikely prophets gathered not in the wilderness but on the front step of Elizabeth’s home, two of them not even born yet, and still John (the unborn child Elizabeth is carrying) is already able to acknowledge the One who is greater. The other two prophets are women, women with names and stories, women with voices and something to say, or in Mary’s case, something to sing. Women and babies: we’re definitely not at “the top of the heap,” here, especially not when there’s an actual priest in the house, Zechariah, a professional, licensed and learned, knows-what-he’s-doing expert in matters of faith. [Just a short background, Zechariah is the husband of Elizabeth. As he was in the temple doing his priestly duties, he was visited by the angel Gabriel and was told that he and Elizabeth were going to have a child and he was to name this child John. Because of his and Elizabeth’s advanced age, he questioned Gabriel about their ability to have children. Because of his disbelieve, he was not able to speak until the time of John’s birth.] Ironically, though, Zechariah is the very one in this scene without a voice, literally, since he’s been struck speechless during his own angelic visit. The stage is set this week, then, for us to have the rare opportunity to hear from the women and children for a change. And what a change they dream of!
A recent book by Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, The First Christmas, provides an excellent lens through which we might read the familiar and beloved Nativity stories. Matthew and Luke each provide what the authors call an “overture” to their Gospel in which important themes in that Gospel are first heard. Borg and Crossan describe each evangelist’s “overture as microcosm to his gospel as macrocosm.” In Luke’s story, his Gospel’s emphasis on women, the marginalized, and the Holy Spirit are all evident in the birth narratives, including the one we read this week. In this short passage, the prophetic words of these two women, filled with the Holy Spirit, give voice to those who are lowly, like the shepherds to whom the angels later announce the birth of Jesus.
In his book, The Road to Daybreak: A Spiritual Journey, Henri Nouwen provides a thoughtful reflection on the encounter between Elizabeth and Mary. His meditation is worthy of the best feminist theology, which draws our attention to the easily missed things that are happening to and with the “little ones” in our Scripture texts. It may be true that the mighty are brought down, and the great promises of old are kept, but in the meantime, on the dusty road, on a well-swept doorstep, two women meet to share the ancient, womanly experience of being with child.
Advent is indeed a time of waiting, a time pregnant with hope. On this Fourth Sunday of Advent, Mary and Elizabeth could be seen as two ordinary, pregnant women in the most extraordinary time and circumstances, on the brink of greatness but first tending to their relationship with each other and with God. Motherhood is daunting to every woman, especially the first time around, and these two women have found themselves pregnant under most unusual and unexpected terms, one past the age to conceive, and the other a virgin. So, like women in every place and time, they spend time together, keeping each other company, learning and praying and perhaps laughing together, as they face first-time childbirth and motherhood.
The new life promised in Mary’s pregnancy, of course, is the focus of Luke’s story, as it fulfills promises to all humankind, but one wonders how these two humble women must have felt about what was happening in their own lives. Nouwen says, “Who could ever understand? Who could ever believe it? Who could ever let it happen? But Mary says, ‘Let it happen to me’, and she immediately realizes that only Elizabeth will be able to affirm her ‘yes’. For three months Mary and Elizabeth live together and encourage each other to truly accept the motherhood given to them.” As Nouwen reads this story, neither woman had to wait alone for the extraordinary events to unfold, slowly, as pregnancies do: “They could wait together and thus deepen in each other their faith in God, for whom nothing is impossible. Thus, God’s most radical intervention into history was listened to and received in community.”
In this Advent season, we in the church are keenly aware that we wait in community for the promises of God to unfold in our lives. Here, in community, we hold each other up when one of us needs encouragement or support. We help one another search for meaning, rejoice with one another, walk alongside each other. Just as Elizabeth must have listened to Mary, and helped her prepare for what was to come (at least, as much as such a marvelous thing might be prepared for), we help one another work things out. Sometimes, we just sit in the dark quiet and wait together, trusting in the promises of God, listening for a word from the Stillspeaking God. “In a way,” Timothy Mulder writes, “here is a preface for Emmanuel. We humans are not meant to go through the tough or the wonderful alone. Both need to be shared” (New Proclamation 2009) And in the midst of our waiting, as Paul, writing from prison, encouraged the Philippians; as Hannah and Mary sang God’s praise;[let me interject that Hannah was a woman who prayed to God to give her a son, whom we know as Samuel, she then gave his life back to God, recognizing that the only reason why she had Samuel was because of God’s favor; and out of this recognition sang a song of praise, from which much of Mary’s song comes. So in reality, Mary’s song was quoting from Hannah.] and as Elizabeth welcomed her beloved cousin and companion, Paul says: we rejoice, our hearts dancing within us.” That is the way that we move with Mary’s song.
I want to stop for a moment and reflect on this last paragraph. Look around you, see who is here in Worship this morning. Now, look around again and think about those who are not in Worship this morning. How many people can you think of who are members and friends of the church and were regularly attending worship 2 yrs ago, 3 yrs ago, maybe 4 yrs ago and are not here today?
When I was interviewed by the Transitional Ministers committee, one of the things that we discussed was “how to get those people back” or “should we even try? Possibly moving forward and not worry about them as it had been suggested by denominational leadership.” What I’m about to speak to, I say with the deepest love and concern for every person who is associated with this body of faith; to those who are here and to those who are painfully missing. One of the processes in healing, is to recognize when there has been an injury. One of the realities that we as a congregation need to face up to is that there have been many people who have been severely hurt by behavior that took place over the last few years. Many of those faces that you do not see here this morning are casualties and many of you who are here this morning are also still trying to heal.
As a transitional minister, one of my jobs is to help you as a faith community heal from the experience that you have come through. One of those ways is to listen; listen to the pain that is held within one’s heart especially after it’s been deeply wounded. Yet many times, my listening cannot provide the real healing ointment that needs to be applied to help that person let go of the hurt and anger and move forward with their spiritual life. One of the 12 steps in the work of AA in order to heal is to address the “wrongs” that one has done to others and seek forgiveness for those actions. That type of work has to be done one on one and by those whom it involves, it isn’t something that “a third party” such as a pastor can effectively do.
As I read just a couple of minutes ago: we in the church are keenly aware that we wait in community for the promises of God to unfold in our lives. Here, in community, we hold each other up when one of us needs encouragement or support. We help one another search for meaning, rejoice with one another, walk alongside each other. We humans are not meant to go through the tough or the wonderful alone. And as a congregation we need to do the same for those who are not here and hurting. The only real way for us as a congregation to heal is to examine our hearts and if we need to go to those who are not here and talk with them, to open the doors of communication in order to allow healing to start, then I pray that this work can start with this Advent season.
For one of lessons that we can hear when Elizabeth is praising Mary at her door step is that of Mary’s accepting the word spoken to her from God. The key point is “accepting” when the word of God comes to you! That is where and when the blessing and the joy starts to fill your heart. Mary’s song came not just from hearing God’s word, but by accepting God’s word, even when it meant that she would possibly be ridiculed, not only by her family or Joseph, but by the community, a community that had a law that, if imposed, could lead to her death by stoning for having sex outside of marriage. Is it an easy task to humble oneself to what God teaches and wishes to occur in our lives? No, it’s probably the hardest job anyone of us has; the job of letting go one’s ego! But it is the only way to prepare the way for God’s joy that is waiting to expand within our hearts.
We are knit together in a community of faith. When we are missing some of our family, we have a huge hole within our fabric. We are missing the blessings that they can bring into our midst. We are missing opportunities of growth when we just let them slip away. But more importantly, we are guilty of damaging a spirit that God has placed within our midst for support, encouragement, and to experience the good times in life together as well as the tough times.
From time to time people send me poems and cartoons and other items of interest by way of e-mail. As I close today’s lesson, I would like to share with you one of these e-mails that Liz Strannigan shared with me, which re-tells today’s reading of Mary’s Song; it is titled The Christmas Pageant.
My husband and I had been (most of the time) happily married for five years but hadn't been blessed with a baby.
I decided to do some serious praying. I promised God that if he would give us a child, I would be a perfect mother, love it with all my heart and raise it with His word as my guide.
God answered my prayers and blessed us with a son.
The next year he blessed us with another son.
The following year, He blessed us with yet another son.
The year after that we were blessed with a daughter.

My husband thought we'd been blessed right into poverty. We now had four children, and the oldest was only four years old.

I learned never to ask God for anything unless I meant it. As a minister once told me, "If you pray for rain, make sure you carry an umbrella."

I began reading a few verses of the Bible to the children each day as they lay in their cribs. I was off to a good start. God had entrusted me with four children and I didn't want to disappoint Him.

I tried to be patient the day the children smashed two dozen eggs on the kitchen floor searching for baby chicks.

I tried to be understanding... when they started a hotel for homeless frogs in the spare bedroom, although it took me nearly two hours to catch all twenty-three frogs.

When my daughter poured ketchup all over herself and rolled up in a blanket to see how it felt to be a hot dog, I tried to see the humor rather than the mess.

In spite of changing over twenty-five thousand diapers, never eating a hot meal, and never sleeping for more than thirty minutes at a time, I still thank God daily for my children.

While I couldn't keep my promise to be a perfect mother--I didn't even come close--I did keep my promise to raise them in the Word of God.

I knew I was missing the mark just a little when I told my daughter we were going to church to "worship" God, and she wanted to bring a bar of soap along to "wash up" Jesus, too.

Something was lost in the translation when I explained that God gave us everlasting life, and my son thought it was generous of God to give us his "last wife."

But my proudest moment came during the children's Christmas pageant:

My daughter was playing Mary, two of my sons were shepherds, and my youngest son was a wise man. This was their moment to shine.

My five-year-old shepherd had practiced his line, "We found the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes." But he was nervous and said, "The baby was wrapped in wrinkled clothes."

My four-year-old "Mary" said, "That's not 'wrinkled clothes,' silly. That's dirty, rotten clothes."

A wrestling match broke out between Mary and the shepherd and was stopped by an angel, who bent her halo and lost her left wing.

I slouched a little lower in my seat when Mary dropped the doll representing Baby Jesus, and it bounced down the aisle crying, "Mama-mama."

Mary grabbed the doll, wrapped it back up and held it tightly as the wise men arrived.

My other son stepped forward wearing a bathrobe and a paper crown, knelt at the manger and announced, "We are the three wise men and we are bringing gifts of gold, common sense and fur."

The congregation dissolved into laughter, and the pageant got a standing ovation.

"I've never enjoyed a Christmas program as much as this one," laughed the pastor, wiping tears from his eyes.
"For the rest of my life, I'll never hear the Christmas story without thinking of gold, common sense and fur."

"My children are my pride, my joy, and my greatest blessing," I said as I dug through my purse for an aspirin.

Jesus had no servants, yet they called Him Master.

Had no degree, yet they called Him Teacher.

Had no medicines, yet they called Him Healer.

Had no army, yet kings feared Him.

He won no military battles, yet He conquered the world.

He committed no crime, yet they crucified Him.

He was buried in a tomb, yet He lives today.

Feel honored to serve such a Leader who loves us.