December 22, 2002

Fourth Advent


Luke 1:26-38; 2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16; Romans 16:25-27

She had seen many a Christmas in her 80 plus years inevitably as we talked she remembered some. She told stories of childhood memories told of times with her children—and now the grand children. I had brought her communion—and she received it sitting in her wheel chair. Near her on a table was a simple aged nativity scene. We talked of Christmas coming to the church—and Christmases she remembered at the church. Then she paused and turned to the nativity scene. She looked for a long moment at the scene then with aged hands picked up the manger empty of any figure. “He’s not here yet,” she said more to herself then to me “He’s not here yet,” she repeated and then continued, “but he’s coming again you know” “Yes,” I said, “I know” “He comes every year now,” she announced confidently. “How do you suppose he will come this year?”

The years have passed and I have moved on to other ministries and parishes but each year at this time—as the fourth candle is lit—and the figures of the Christmas nativity scene are moved into position—I find myself haunted by that question. “How do you suppose he will come this year?” Part of the answer is of course to rephrase the question How would we have him come? Were we God to whom would we come—where would we choose to be born? What nation should host God’s arrival? What social class receive him? And how would God come today? In what form would God enter the world? The mystery and miracle of Christmas no longer holds the fascination that it once held for the world—any more then Santa Claus or reindeer can mystify us any longer. Thanks to the technology of morphing and computer enhanced graphics, it has become almost common in movies and television shows for human forms to be shaped and reshaped while all types of worldly creatures have done amazing things. Flying is commonplace for all sorts of creatures—we see it all the time—on film. Changing shapes and places—passing through small openings like even a chimney—No problem—in film. There are movie images of shapes and figures transformed before our eyes to places and sizes that no longer impress us except in so far as we ask -- “How did they do that?”

For God to move from divine to human—to empty himself into human form—even through the form of an unexpected birth to a young girl—is not so surprising once we have seen all sorts of special effects. We know that aliens can take on most any human form—there are no barriers to our imagination. We have become almost too familiar with images of Santa Claus morphed into homes through the smallest of openings. If the Claus can do that—surely God can become human. We probably have more in common with King David in our Old Testament lesson. A king blessed by God—confident in his place in the world and the power he exercises. One day David looks around and realizes that while he has been busy securing his place in history and the world he has not paid as much attention to God as he probably should have. He looks at the place God has in his kingdom. He sees an aging and very flimsy tent compared to the grand structures of David’s home—and David feels that he really should do something for God. He should give God a greater place in his life and kingdom. So David offers through the prophet Nathan to build a fine new home for God.

This happens regularly—sometimes it is the birth of a child—or the death of a parent —sometimes it is a close encounter with an illness —a national tragedy or a very personal moment of doubt. Whatever the motivation there come moments in life when we suddenly see the world differently and resolve that the future will be different. God will have a different place in our lives—we will see to that. If we could we probably would offer to build God a special place. Of course our offer is usually not a new building (although we try sometimes). More often our offer involves a change in our lives—like a decision to be more faithful in worship attendance or a decision to give more time Bible reading or prayer life. In our own way we resolve to build a better place for God in our lives—and sometimes we even begin to build. But what the Old Testament lesson would remind us of is that God does things on God’s terms. God is God—not our God or any one else’s God. The prophet Nathan who at first thought David had a good idea came back to him and said “No” you will not build a house for God but rather God will build a house for you.

When was the last time you heard God speak to you? To be able to honestly answer that question is one of the most terrifying moments that any human being can have. That was most certainly what Mary’s experience was Terrifying—frightening—confusing. Most often it is assumed that an encounter with God’s word is an encounter with the truth—we may not always like it or respond to it but we expect to hear God’s word as clear and simple truth. “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.” Pretty simple—God loves you and you are now pregnant with God’s son—that’s pretty straightforward except for the fact that Mary was a 14 year old virgin living in abject poverty in a backwater part of the middle-east in a culture that might very well stone her to death for the condition she now found herself in—and if Joseph turned her out she would have no way of raising the child or caring for herself. And she was favored by God?

Some would suggest that the real key to this story is the fact that it is an angel who brings Mary this word. We live in a time when angels have become a pretty common part of our entertainment diet—and usually the G and PG portion of that diet. A decade ago there were only 5 books published about angels. The latest publishers report identifies over 200 “angel” titles among the new publications. The problem with most of these “modern” books is that they generally make angels into some kind of adult version of Santa Claus—creatures who are in the business of fulfilling wishes and providing wonderful surprises to those who have hope or believe or for some reason have a redeeming social value. Morris Margolies notes that in Israel’s history belief in angels blossomed during those times of exile or foreign dominance when people felt that God had withdrawn from them—in those times angels became intermediaries to God. People still look for intermediaries—some evidence that God is involved in our lives. Angels some how seem to be more accessible to us. Maybe it’s because there is only one God but many angels and that means that we might each have our own personal angel—our own personal link to the divine. And if the angel doesn’t out right deliver us from trials, trouble or tribulation then the message that the angel at least brings is “Don’t worry, everything will turn out alright”.

There is no message from an angel in scripture that can be interpreted in such a way. When angels speak for God in the Bible—and Angels do speak for God—that is what the Hebrew and Greek words we translate as angel mean—a messenger. When the angels speak for God their announcements seldom bring comfort. Their words tend almost always to amaze—terrify—bewilder—confuse—and provoke to actions that had never been expected or planned on. I believe—in fact, I KNOW that angels still come to us today. The popular belief is that they come in the forms of deliverers from harms way. The survival of many to the events of September 11 are interpreted by many as proof of guardian angels. Others see angels involved as guides to lost or confused motorists and children. Some also believe Angels come in the forms of healers and protectors. Yet looking at scripture we discover that the real form in which the word comes into our world is far less comforting and comfortable. It is the word as honest as that spoken by Nathan to David or Gabriel to Mary. It is a word that we recognize as coming from God but find hard to accept or embrace because it is not in the form that we would have it take.

As stewards of God’s blessings we want to build our temples for God on our terms and in our ways. We want to decide how much of a commitment to make—and when—and how—because it is our money and resources that we worked hard for. And Nathan said to David, “Moreover, the Lord declares to you that the Lord will make you a house.” My house or God’s house—my bills—my expenses—my Christmas list—my gifts to others. Or God’s gift. And the angel said to her, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” God has blessed us—favored us. The challenge is in the building. And the angel said, “You will name him Jesus. He will be great...”—the awesome responsibility of naming the child—we call it baptism. When we all embrace each child as our responsibility then we are building God’s church or maybe more correctly we are recognizing God building among us. When we recognize our blessings as God’s first steps to building in us—then we have begun to understand how God has entered not just the world but our lives.

Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

What are your Christmas plans? Have you completed your Christmas list? We so try to control our days—define the places, ways, shapes and times when Christ may come. “He comes every year, you know,” she said “How do you suppose he will come this year?” The Sunday school Christmas program?—A moment at the PADS shelter?—In more than 400 gifts given to inner city children?—The recollected words to a Christmas carol heard in the background while shopping at the mall?—A moment at Christmas Eve worship when the manger is suddenly no longer empty? How DO you suppose he will come this year? Probably not in the form we would prefer or expect And probably not making us feel the most comfortable. But you know, he comes every year. 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.

Amen.