Our reading today is from Paul’s letter to the Philippians chapter 1. Just a reminder that outside of the Gospels and the book of Acts, most of the rest of the Christian scriptures, the New Testament is one side of a conversation. We’re essentially reading Paul’s outgoing mail, and we don’t have the other side of the conversation. Although we can kind of sometimes piece it together from other clues from Scripture.

We may remember a few weeks ago we read from the book of Acts when Paul and Silas visited the town of Philippi in northern Greece, how they kind of encountered some trouble there and were jailed, and how even in the midst of being jailed they sang hymns and prayed and were attracting people to the faith, even their jailer. Paul established a community there and last week we read the beginning of his letter to the Philippians as he’s writing to them some years down the road after that visit.

This is a community, and this is not always the case with Paul, where he has great fondness for them and he really just wants to kind of encourage them along. Some other times he’s kind of addressing problems or dissatisfaction within the community in Philippians, by and large, Paul is just trying to encourage them along. They’re doing well. He wants them to continue to grow in love for one another and grow in faith and in service of others. And so we encounter this reading then from Philippians:

Philippians 2: 1-13

If, then, there is any comfort in Christ, any consolation from love, any partnership in the Spirit, any tender affection and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from selfish ambition or empty conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,

who, though he existed in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
as something to be grasped,
but emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
assuming human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a human,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death—
even death on a cross.

Therefore God exalted him even more highly
and gave him the name
that is above every other name,
so that at the name given to Jesus
every knee should bend,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue should confess
that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.

Therefore, my beloved, just as you have always obeyed me, not only in my presence but much more now in my absence, work on your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.

For the Word of God in scripture,
For the Word of God among us,
For the Word of God within us,
Thanks be to God.

***

So today on the National Mall in DC, the White House is sponsoring a nine-hour event called Rededicate 250. Thousands of Christians will gather to reclaim what they believe to be the Christian roots of our country and to rededicate our country as one nation under God.

Now, as a Christian pastor, you might think I would be in favor of such a thing.

But you would be wrong. And I will tell you why.

Now, to be completely transparent, many of my objections could be rightly categorized as political. I think you all know we certainly address politics here. I don’t know how to preach and not address politics, because politics is life, right? But the pulpit is not a place for partisan politics—except when they step into my territory. And I would say Rededicate 250 is firmly in my wheelhouse here.

So my objections are—even though I do have political ones—I’m going to try my best to put those aside and concentrate on the theological reasons, not of what it means to be an American, but what it means to be a Christian.

So to be clear, I think there are plenty of reasons to object to this as Americans, but I do want to claim something really important about what it means to be Presbyterian.

Because, see, as Presbyterians, we actually value a diversity of thought and opinion. We not only value it, we invite it, we expect it, okay? Just to give you a feeling for how important this is to who we are as Presbyterians: part of our Constitution as the Presbyterian Church (USA)—most of it can be amended, because we expect that rules and guidelines will change over time, that we can grow in wisdom, and that practices need to be relevant to the time.

There’s only a small part of our Constitution which cannot be amended. These are the things that we think are pretty timeless, are important, are kind of as close as we can get to universal truths, okay?

And one of them is captured in this phrase: that we fully expect people of good conscience to disagree. That’s an essential part of who we are as Presbyterians.

We expect people of good conscience to disagree.

So didn’t we just read from Paul about having the same mind? A full accord with one mind? What is that if not a like-minded community? And how can we then reconcile our Presbyterian value of diversity of thought with what Paul seemingly upholds here as like-mindedness?

Well, first of all, I would argue that what Paul calls us as Christians to be of one mind—what he really means might be better translated as like-hearted rather than like-minded.

I actually cut out a little piece there of what Paul said. He doesn’t just call us to be of the same mind, he calls us also to be what? Part of the same love.

And then he goes and reminds us of the example that Jesus gave us in his life.

The verses that follow are what scholars call the Christ hymn. And there are many who believe here—this is really interesting, perk up for a minute—there are those who believe that what Paul is quoting here is actually a very, very early Christian hymn.

In fact, this section that’s kind of formatted differently maybe in your pew Bibles is thought to be maybe one of the very earliest pieces of Christian writing: a piece of music. Makes sense, right? It makes sense to them that this hymn is something that would have been known and spread, and that Paul here is just quoting it because he knows the Philippians know it. And so he’s grounding them in what they already know.

But if that’s the case, that’s really interesting, because this little bit shows us a whole lot of what the earliest Christians thought about what it meant to follow Jesus.

Professor Catherine Shaner writes, “The Christ hymn is clear: domination, conquest, exploitation—exactly the patriotic images that the Roman Empire embraced—are antithetical to divine power. Jesus’ death and resurrection reject our human displays of power and violence precisely because we know the divine was present in the worst kinds of violence, fear, stigmatization, and brute force. Violence, fear, and death are not God’s plan.”

But wait a minute.

Isn’t part of this hymn that every knee should bend? On earth and under the earth, at the name that is above all names, Jesus Christ? That sounds a little bit forceful, doesn’t it?

Maybe. I would suggest that we read it that way because that’s our lens. We come out of this lens of thinking about power as domination. But what Paul is doing here is something different.

He’s not saying that every knee shall bend because they will be forced to against their will, but that the vision for all of creation—for all of creation, for all of humanity, for all of it—is that we will be so into the love of God that, in the end, we will all come to realize that that is the greatest power of them all, and not all of our other attempts to amass power and wealth for ourselves, to dominate others through violence and through force.

Now, it would seem to me—and actually not just seem to me, because the Christian nationalist leaders who are organizing and participating in today’s rededication have explicitly said this, and I have quoted them from this pulpit before—that it is their intention to force their brand of Christianity on everyone else.

Matthew Taylor, a religious scholar of the ICJS in Baltimore, has been studying the leaders of this movement for the past five years. You may remember he came here a couple years ago and gave a talk on his book, The Violent Take It By Force, which was his attempt to explain the Christian leaders who were involved in the January 6th insurrection.

About the event today, he writes, “Their goal is not merely Christian nationalism, the claim that the U.S. is especially Christian. It is Christian supremacy, privileging Christianity over other religious and nonreligious worldviews in policy, and offering premium citizenship to their kind of Christian.”

So while at first we may look at this passage and they can find their justification for “every knee shall bow,” look at the rest of the hymn. Look at the rest of the passage. Where is it saying that this will happen by force?

No. God does not work by force, but by attraction.

So what are we to do? How can we make a difference? Should we just moan and complain, wait patiently for the next vote, withdraw from what’s going on in the world and just tend to our own souls, our own like-minded communities? Or do Paul’s words here in Philippians have something more to offer us?

I’ll tell you what—it’s really amazing what happens when you just pay attention, when you just have that. So often, you know, we’re rushing from one thing to the next.

I always have this pause in my morning when I’m out in the car waiting for the kids to come out so I can take them to school. And this happened last week, actually, as I was thinking about this passage and this like-mindedness and this “every knee shall bow,” and I’m thinking, “How am I going to—what am I going to say?”

And two really interesting things happened.

So one was, for some reason—even though 99% of the time I pull into our driveway head first—for whatever reason, and I don’t even remember, it’s like a week ago, I don’t remember why, but I backed into the driveway. So I’m sitting there in the car waiting for a few minutes as the car kind of warms up, and I’m looking outward. Where I would normally be looking toward our backyard, I’m looking out toward the street.

Now, the other thing you need to know is that we live in a neighborhood that has a lot of walkers, a lot of dog walkers, people that walk for exercise, people that run and jog. And so they’re out all the time. And these people—I mean, you can set your watch to them. You know that if you leave at this time of day, I’m going to see this person walking, or I’m going to see this person walking their dog.

And I may know them by name, or I just may recognize them. I may see them every day of the week. That’s how much a part of my life they are. But I don’t really know them. So you get the idea, right?

So I’m there sitting in the driveway, facing out, and this couple walks by. Not unusual, except I don’t recognize them. Never seen them before in my life. So that strikes my curiosity. Who are they? What are these people doing in my neighborhood? No, not really. But, you know, that’s kind of why I paid attention. I’m like, huh.

A couple, I’m going to guess in their sixties. And the remarkable thing is they were walking so in sync. Now, they were walking at a pretty good clip, so I only had about twelve strides that I could see them as they were walking through my view. But this couple, who I assume had been together for a long time, they were walking exactly in sync.

And I’m not exaggerating to say it wasn’t just that the stride of their legs was in sync. I’m talking heel to toe, touching the ground precisely the same.

And I thought to myself—one, I thought, they’ve been together a long time.

And I thought of the long-term couples that I’ve known. I don’t know very many of them that are like-minded. Some that are more like-minded than others, but that’s not what gets them there.

And I realized from this couple that they were in sync in a different way. It wasn’t that they agree on everything, but they’re so used to walking together that, without even thinking about it, their strides just matched up.

And it just hit me. That’s what Paul means. That’s what he’s talking about. That as individuals and communities, our job is to walk with Jesus.

And when we start, we’re not going to be in sync. We’re going to be out of step. But together, the more we do it together, the more in sync we can be.

Not like-minded. Something closer to like-hearted.

As Christians, it is our job to walk in the way of Jesus, who, though he existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be grasped, but emptied himself, humbled himself.

And we walk this way not just as individuals, but as communities of faith. We support one another. We encourage one another. We do not force our way of living and our way of thinking on others.

How little faith in God does that take, to force our way on others? If we truly believe and have faith, force is not necessary.

I think what Paul is calling us to is submitting ourselves to love—God’s love for all people.

Together, we try to walk in sync with our Lord and Savior. As we Presbyterians say, as a sign to the world of what God intends for all humanity.

Friends, that’s what we can do. Not hold huge rallies and try to force other people into our way of thinking, but to be a sign here of what can be, to be a community where love and generosity and compassion rule, not power and force.

Walking step by step with Jesus, we can show the power of humility and the strength of love.

Like-hearted, not like-minded.

Amen.

The post Like-Hearted, Not Like-Minded appeared first on Roland Park Presbyterian Church.

We are returning now, after a brief hiatus, to the Narrative Lectionary, which is following God’s story from Genesis all the way through the Christian scriptures. We turn our attention now to the book commonly called Acts. The full title is Acts of the Apostles, which kind of is like almost a journal of the earliest apostles and their travels in sharing the good news of Jesus Christ. And this is one of the visits to a town called Philippi, which is in Greece, and it follows the journey of Paul and Silas and what they encounter there.

Acts 16: 16-40 

One day as we were going to the place of prayer, we met a female slave who had a spirit of divination and brought her owners a great deal of money by fortune-telling. While she followed Paul and us, she would cry out, “These men are slaves of the Most High God, who proclaim to you the way of salvation.” She kept doing this for many days. But Paul, very much annoyed, turned and said to the spirit, “I order you in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her.” And it came out that very hour. 

But when her owners saw that their hope of making money was gone, they seized Paul and Silas and dragged them into the marketplace before the authorities. When they had brought them before the magistrates, they said, “These men, these Jews, are disturbing our city and are advocating customs that are not lawful for us, being Romans, to adopt or observe.” The crowd joined in attacking them, and the magistrates had them stripped of their clothing and ordered them to be beaten with rods. After they had given them a severe flogging, they threw them into prison and ordered the jailer to keep them securely. Following these instructions, he put them in the innermost cell and fastened their feet in the stocks. 

About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them. Suddenly there was an earthquake so violent that the foundations of the prison were shaken, and immediately all the doors were opened and everyone’s chains were unfastened. When the jailer woke up and saw the prison doors wide open, he drew his sword and was about to kill himself, since he supposed that the prisoners had escaped. But Paul shouted in a loud voice, “Do not harm yourself, for we are all here.” The jailer called for lights, and rushing in, he fell down trembling before Paul and Silas. Then he brought them outside and said, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” They answered, “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household.” They spoke the word of the Lord to him and to all who were in his house. At the same hour of the night he took them and washed their wounds; then he and his entire family were baptized without delay. He brought them up into the house and set food before them, and he and his entire household rejoiced that he had become a believer in God. 

When morning came, the magistrates sent the police, saying, “Let those men go.” And the jailer reported the message to Paul, saying, “The magistrates sent word to let you go; therefore come out now and go in peace.” But Paul replied, “They have beaten us in public, uncondemned, men who are Romans, and have thrown us into prison, and now are they going to discharge us in secret? Certainly not! Let them come and take us out themselves.” The police reported these words to the magistrates, and they were afraid when they heard that they were Romans, so they came and apologized to them. And they took them out and asked them to leave the city. After leaving the prison they went to Lydia’s home, and when they had seen and encouraged the brothers and sisters there, they departed.

For the Word of God in scripture,
For the Word of God among us,
For the Word of God within us,
Thanks be to God.

***

Certainly there is no one who does more to promote the early spread of Christianity than the Apostle Paul. Paul would travel from town to town, region to region, to spread the good news of the gospel. He would often encounter both a warm welcome and resistance from the locals. Today, he’s with Silas in Philippi, a port city in Greece on the Mediterranean Sea. We know that Paul establishes a Christian community there because he would later write a letter which is included among the Christian scriptures.

Yet today’s passage also shows us why Paul is so maddeningly frustrating. On the one hand, we find the feisty and faithful Paul who, when arrested by the authorities, does not succumb to fear or anger, but instead, there in the darkest part of the prison, turns to prayer and song, which radiates out to the other prisoners, strengthening their souls to resist the oppression of the empire. When God intervenes to release the shackles, Paul does not flee for his life, but instead stays and ministers to his jailer, liberating him from a system of violence and intimidation that binds him.

But on the other hand, we encounter the impatient Paul, who is, in his annoyance, cast a spirit out of a young, enslaved girl, thoughtlessly depriving her of the spiritual gift that protects her from an even more unthinkable fate. “After this exorcism, the slave ceases to be of use to her masters or to the story,” writes the Rev. Dr. Barb Hedges-Goettl. There is no follow-through and no follow-up regarding this slave. We do not know if she thinks of herself as healed, if she becomes a follower of The Way, if her masters cast her out, if she is beaten, if she is sold, if she is starved, if she is forced into prostitution to make up for her lost income.

Paul and Silas certainly have their own problems to deal with. But we should stop and notice how easily they and the text move on from this woman without another thought. She’s forgotten.

And before we get all judgy about how women and girls were treated at that time, we should consider how often this same scenario is repeated in our world today. Women and girls are often overlooked, left out, told to pipe down, told that it is all in their head, and on and on. Heck, I admit I barely took notice of the slave girl in my reading until one of my female colleagues pointed it out to me. Then I was shocked that I could so easily overlook her, so easily dismiss her testimony.

For surely the gospel calls us to pay attention, not only to the main characters, but everyone along the way. No one is unimportant in God’s eyes. No one is overlooked. No one is unloved. We need to pay attention and make room in the narrative for these other stories, the ones we too often overlook.

“Making room for others can be hard work,” writes Hedges-Goettl. We forget that the story isn’t all about us. We act as if there are no other characters. We neglect the other plotlines. We refuse to permit any other narrators. But God’s story gives each of us a starring role. God follows all and each of the characters. God honors all of the plotlines. God lets each of us share in the narration.

In her book, Letter to My Daughter, Maya Angelou writes, “I’ve made many mistakes and no doubt will make many more before I die. When I have seen pain, when I have found that my ineptness has caused displeasure, I have learned to accept my responsibility and to forgive myself first, then to apologize to anyone injured by my misreckoning. Since I cannot unlive history and repentance is all I can offer God, I have hopes that my sincere apologies are accepted.”

“You may not control all the events that happen to you,” she writes, “but you can decide not to be reduced by them.” And then she says, “Try to be a rainbow in someone’s cloud.”

Friends, we don’t always get it right. And too often, we do look past others, and we put ourselves at the center of the narrative. But thankfully, God does not look at the world through our eyes. In fact, we are called to look at the world and each other through God’s.

To see each other as God sees us, precious and loved.

Friends, hear these words from the prophet Isaiah: “But now thus says the Lord, He who created you, O Jacob, He who formed you, O Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you. When you walk through fire, you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you, because you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you.”

Friends, the good news of the gospel is that there is not one single human being on this planet that God has not said these words to, including you, including me, and including everyone we meet.

And it’s not just that the world will be a better place if we treat each other as precious and loved children of God that we are. But we will hear parts of the story that we’ve too often overlooked, and our understanding of God’s love will only grow.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.

The post What Is Her Story? appeared first on Roland Park Presbyterian Church.

Discussion Questions: 

1. Paying Attention to the Overlooked
   o In Acts 16, the enslaved girl speaks the truth about Paul and Silas, yet her story quickly disappears from the narrative. What do you notice about her role in the passage?
   o Who are the people in our communities, churches, workplaces, or families whose stories are too easily overlooked?

2. Paul, Silas, and Imperfect Faithfulness
   o The sermon names both Paul’s faithfulness in prison and his failure to fully attend to the enslaved girl. How does this more complicated picture of Paul help you think about your own faith?
   o Why is it important to tell the truth about both the good and the harmful parts of our actions, even when our intentions are faithful?

3. Liberation and Responsibility
   o Paul and Silas are freed from prison, but they do not run away. Instead, they stay and care for the jailer. What does this teach us about liberation, compassion, and responsibility?
   o Where might God be calling you to stay present with someone who is afraid, ashamed, or trapped in a harmful system?

4. Seeing Others as God Sees Them
   o Pastor Mark reminds us that “no one is unimportant in God’s eyes. No one is overlooked. No one is unloved.” How does this challenge the way we see others?
   o Isaiah’s words, “You are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you,” are spoken over all people. What changes when we begin from that truth?

5. Applying the Sermon
   o This week, how can you make room for someone else’s story, especially someone whose voice is often dismissed or minimized?
   o As a church pursuing justice, practicing hospitality, and engaging curious faith, how can RPPC better notice, honor, and protect those who are too often pushed to the margins?

The post Sermon Discussion Guide: What Is Her Story? appeared first on Roland Park Presbyterian Church.

Luke 1:26-56

In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son, and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.” Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.

 In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.” 

And Mary said,

“My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked with favor on the lowly state of his servant.
Surely from now on all generations will call me blessed,
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name;
indeed, his mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones
and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things
and sent the rich away empty.
He has come to the aid of his child Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

And Mary remained with her about three months and then returned to her home.

For the Word of God in scripture,
For the Word of God among us,
For the Word of God within us,
Thanks be to God.

***

So last month in our adult education forum, we discussed protest songs. We listened to jazz, blues, country, rock and roll, rap, pop, and more. Artists such as Marvin Gaye, Sam Cooke, Bob Dylan, Peter Tosh, Pete Seeger, Cat Stevens, U2, Tracy Chapman, Suzanne Vega, Public Enemy, The Chicks, Taylor Swift, Beyoncé with Kendrick Lamar—protesting things such as war, racism, sexism, greed, commercialism, and more.

Some of these songs are very controversial. They’ve been banned. Some of the older ones, which were banned once upon a time, seem relatively tame by today’s standards. But some are still surprisingly edgy.

Debie Thomas suggests that Mary’s song from Luke could easily take its place among all of these. She writes, “Mary’s song is so subversive in its cultural, socioeconomic, and political implications, it has been banned many times in modern history.”

I didn’t know this—did you?  She writes, “When the British ruled India, the Magnificat was prohibited from being sung in churches. And similarly, during the Dirty War in Argentina, after the mothers of the disappeared children postered the capitol with the words of the Magnificat, the military banned all public displays of the Magnificat. Too much hope, they decided, is a dangerous thing.”

This Advent, we’ve been paying attention to the particular voices of Advent—voices such as John the Baptist and Zechariah. And next week, Special Music Sunday, we’ll put a nice capstone on all of these as we review all the voices that we’ve heard—and add in those angels. I’m not just talking about the choir.

This Sunday, though, we listen to one of the most important voices of them all: Mary’s, the mother of Jesus.

We know remarkably little about Mary. She was a young woman, engaged to be married to Joseph. In Mark and Matthew, she’s not given a voice and really is actually barely mentioned. In John’s gospel, John only refers to her as “the mother of Jesus.” But Luke’s version not only features her, but her cousin Elizabeth.

Judith Jones points out that “women—so often overlooked or ignored in both society at large and in biblical narratives—have the only speaking roles in this vignette.” Remember, Zechariah was mute, right? It’s Elizabeth and Mary going back and forth. Zechariah’s not allowed to talk. And Joseph… just doesn’t.

But you see, the thing, though, is this isn’t new. This isn’t a fresh approach on God’s part. God’s been working this way for a long, long time. We get that sense when we notice that Mary’s song echoes that of Hannah, who we heard earlier in the fall.

Matthew Skinner writes, “Mary’s song invites us to consider how Jesus’ coming reiterates God’s commitment to seek justice, to sustain the world. She’s clear that God is the one who is going to make it happen. The arrival of Christ means change—but it’s change that God has been talking about and working toward already for a very long time.”

God didn’t just wake up one morning and decide to care about justice. From Hannah to Ruth to Michal to Elizabeth and Mary, God has been using the voices of those on the fringes to call to account the rest of us—to remember who God has created us to be: people of justice and joy.

Diana Butler Bass writes, “Why had I never known Advent was a season of justice and joy?” She continues, “You see, justice is not vindictiveness or revenge. In general, justice just means uprightness, equity, fairness. In the Bible, justice refers to the making right of all things. It’s a relational term about living rightly with others and with creation.”

Perhaps we find it too hard to believe that the God of the universe would use a young unwed woman to carry not only the message of salvation but the very life that would make it possible. Why would God choose that particular time and place? Not a king or queen. Not a president or prime minister. Just an ordinary couple in a backwards, forgotten corner of the world. No prestige. No platform. No wealth. Very little power.

But you see, that—according to Luke—is precisely the point. Because God’s coming isn’t once and done. It started long before Mary and Joseph, and it continues to this day.

Notice all the verb tenses in Mary’s song. They’re all in the past tense. And not just the past tense, but it’s a deep past tense that conveys that it’s not just that it has happened but has been happening for a very long time.

Skinner writes, “The story of Jesus’ birth remains a story of divine initiative, but Mary’s consent reminds us that human contributions also play a part.”

You see, this isn’t a story about human accomplishment, nor is it a story of divine takeover because we’ve messed it up so badly. It’s the story of God’s initiative—and our response. God telling us once again how God intends us to live, and reminding us how much we are loved and valued.

But we keep looking to the wrong people, wrong places, for salvation. We keep looking to celebrities and politicians to fix our world, to fix our country, to fix ourselves. We look to the palaces and the halls of power.

Meanwhile, in a small village in Central America, someone just shared their dinner with their neighbor. Or a nurse who just worked a ten-hour shift goes straight home to care for his ailing spouse. Or the young, unwed, pregnant woman checking herself in to the hospital while her fiancé parks the car.

I don’t think that it’s a coincidence that Mary delivers a song and not a speech.

It is Paul, who would come along a few years later, who would write to the church in Corinth: “Each and every one of you has a song.”

There’s Mary’s song, Elizabeth’s song, Zechariah’s and Joseph’s, Hannah’s, yours, and mine.

“So find your voice,” writes Debie Thomas, “and sing your song. And share it with the world.”

What does your Magnificat sound like?
How is God glorified through your own unique perspective and vision?
And what words have you found to express the radical, revolutionary hope of the Messiah you carry?

Friends, we need voices—voices of justice and joy. Voices of Advent. Voices of hope. Audacious hope. Too much hope—the kind of hope that gets you banned.

So what do you say?
Will you share your voice with me?
Will you sing with me?

Not a Christmas carol just yet.
But an Advent tune—the kind that you sing when you begin to sense that God is up to something new…

And has been, for a very long time.

Amen.

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Mark 1:1-8

The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ.

As it is written in the prophet Isaiah, 

“See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you,
who will prepare your way,
the voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
‘Prepare the way of the Lord;
make his paths straight,’ ”

 so John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And the whole Judean region and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him and were baptized by him in the River Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the strap of his sandals. I have baptized you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

For the Word of God in scripture,
For the Word of God among us,
For the Word of God within us,
Thanks be to God.

***

With Thanksgiving and the start of Advent being back-to-back this year, it occurred to me that Advent is like the morning before the big Thanksgiving meal: you don’t just go about your normal routine, it is all about how you prepare yourself. In his book Voices of Advent, Matthew Skinner reminds us that Christian holidays are also called “feast days” in the church. He writes, “Feasts usually need to be preceded by an extended period of fasting…For one…, it takes work to prepare a feast and moderation to save the food you need for a supersized party. That was especially true for people in medieval Europe, because food was relatively scarce in December. Another reason is less practical and more spiritual: Abstaining from food—either entirely or in moderation—is considered by many an exercise in religious devotion meant to deepen a person’s sense of reliance on God alone. Fasting was not viewed as punishment but as something that can benefit your spiritual vitality and help prepare you for all that Christmas declares about God’s reliability and generosity.”

In Advent we prepare for Christmas. Not preparation as in shopping, decorating and cooking, but as in anticipation, longing and introspection—deepening our sense of reliance on God alone. The call of Advent is to pay attention to where it hurts, where the world is not right, and where we need healing, even dare we say, saving. Because before we celebrate the birth of our savior, it’s important to remember that we need one.

Which is why one of the first voices we hear during Advent is that of John the Baptist. Skinner calls John “one of the most peculiar figures in the Bible, and that’s saying something.” He appears in all four Gospels, as a herald and precursor for Jesus. We read Mark’s version today, which is the simplest. Luke gives us the fullest account. Matthew and John are somewhere in between but add their own unique flare.

Mark’s “Gospel gets right to the point,” writes Skinner, “beginning the whole story of Jesus with a short description of John…drawing from the Old Testament to give us a sense of [his] significance…John’s voice in Mark, along with John’s wardrobe and location, declares that a time of disruption is coming. John characterizes the public arrival of Jesus as an occasion marked by a divine intrusion and expression of God’s power.”

“Since we now live in a society—and a world—that is fitfully drifting toward fascism, the breaking of silence is altogether urgent,” writes Walter Brueggeman. “In the institutional life of the church, moreover, the breaking of silence by the testimony of the gospel often means breaking the silence among those who have a determined stake in maintaining the status quo.” In other words, those who have a voice have a responsibility to use it. But too often we stay silent!

“We need John’s voice in Advent,” writes Skinner. “As the Gospels tell their stories, John is also vital for setting Jesus in the context of agitation and protest. John expresses dissatisfaction with the current state of affairs. He’s eager for God to inject new life and forgotten convictions into the world. John leads us to reflect on our own expectations and frustrations. John urges us to get ready.”

The getting ready of Advent, the fasting before the feast, is removal of all the ways we deny, pretend, or otherwise ignore the state of affairs around us and within us. Before German pastor and theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer was martyred by the Nazi regime, he wrote, “The coming of God is truly not only a joyous message, but is, first, frightful news for anyone who has a conscience … God comes in the midst of evil, in the midst of death, and judges the evil in us and in the world.”

***

              A friend of mine is going through some things. The specifics don’t matter, because we’ve all been there. There are just times in life that are like that. It isn’t a matter of blame or guilt. Whether you are in control of the circumstances or not isn’t really important either. All that matters is that things aren’t right.

Of course, this is the very same time that everyone asks, “Are you alright?” or simply states, “Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.” To the first, you want to say “No, of course I am not alright.” To the second, you want to shout, “You don’t know that everything will be okay.”

Advent is the Christian calendars way of saying, “It’s okay not to be okay.” To my friend going through some things I said, “Of course you are not alright right now. No one would be in your circumstances.” Sometimes all we can do is acknowledge that things are not alright at the moment and might not be for some time. As Christians we can do this, without losing hope in God’s future and God’s promises. Rather Advent reminds us just how deep our hope runs.

The Right Rev. Maryanne Budde, the bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of DC, who famously pleaded with President Trump in her homily at his inauguration, recently traveled to Europe. The trip was part personal, to take her mother’s remains to be buried with her parents and part professional; she was giving a book talk in Sweden.

About her time oversees she writes, “The people I met in Europe wanted to talk about life in the United States, and I was moved by the depth of their concern. The question I was most frequently asked was some variation of “What is life like for you in America now?” While I didn’t presume to speak for all Americans, I tried to describe the fullness of our life, alongside the sober realities that make international headlines…The second most frequent question I was asked in Europe was “Where do you find your hope?” That was easier to answer. My hope is in Jesus, crucified and risen. No matter how I feel on a given day, Jesus has given me a path to walk and his light to see by. It is the way of love.” Then she wrote this, “When I falter and lose hope, others walking the path beside me become my hope bearers. I look to the example of those wondrous human beings across our world whose sacrificial love is like light shining in darkness.”

That’s it! Advent calls us to be hope bearers. To use our voice to tell the truth. We are not okay. Our world is broken and so are we. We have not loved God with our whole heart. We have not loved one another as God has loved us. We have done that which we should not and left undone that which we should have done. But we do not lose hope because God is not done with us yet! Before every feast, there’s a famine. So we pray, may the full feast of God’s justice come and come soon. While we wait Lord, come. Amen.

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