Sermon: 4 Advent (20 December 2009)
(Micah 5:2-5a/Luke 1:46b-55/Hebrews 10:5-10/Luke 1:39-45)
Details
Blessed be God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
And blessed be his kingdom, now and for ever. Amen.
Little details of the big story of Advent: that’s our focus today. Advent is such an epic tale, spanning centuries and nations, spanning eternity and heaven and earth, that little – yet rich and meaningful – details easily might go unnoticed or unmentioned unless we keep our eyes focused and our ears attuned to the small scale as well as to the large. So, today we look at the story writ small. It is sometimes said that the devil is in the details. But I think God is there.
In the Second Song of Isaiah we read these true words:
For my thoughts are not your thoughts, *
nor your ways my ways, says the Lord.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth, *
so are my ways higher than your ways,
and my thoughts than your thoughts (BCP 14).
If there is a unifying theme to these little details of Advent it is precisely this: that God’s thoughts are not our thoughts, nor God’s ways our ways.
St. Luke has been and is our guide for this Advent, which is a good thing since he is a keen observer of detail. He prides himself on it, as he make clear in the prologue to his two-volume history, the Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles.
Since many have undertaken to set down an orderly account of the events that have been fulfilled among us, 2just as they were handed on to us by those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and servants of the word, 3I too decided, after investigating everything carefully from the very first, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, 4so that you may know the truth concerning the things about which you have been instructed (Luke 1:1-5, NRSV).
We saw Luke’s attention to detail in the Gospel reading last Sunday when he introduced the ministry of St. John the Forerunner.
In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, 2during the high-priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness (Luke 3:1-2, NRSV).
Luke gives us a detailed accounting of time, after the fashion of his day; this is Luke the historian at work. A new ruler comes to power and the calendar resets and future events are measured from the beginning of his reign. Luke is thorough here; he mentions the powers-that-be at almost every level: Tiberius, ruler of the world; Pontius Pilate, his governor over Judea; Herod, the Idumean puppet-king of Galilee, and his co-regents Philip and Lysanias; Annas and Caiphas, the religious authorities in Jerusalem. Time and power are inseparable in this accounting. Time is a measure of power.
Now, let’s go back in the story of Advent some three decades to watch Luke address another measure of time. This time it’s not Luke the historian, but Luke the theologian.
In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, 27to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary (Luke 1:26-27, NRSV).
In the sixth month: that’s all Luke writes to specify time – nothing about Caesar, nothing about Herod, nothing at all about any of the powers-that-were at the time. In the sixth month. What does this mean: in the sixth month of what, or in the sixth month since what? Since you know the big story, you know this detail: in the sixth month since the angel Gabriel announced to Zechariah that his barren, old wife would conceive and bear a son and that her son would be the forerunner, the herald, of God’s messiah. Now this is a different way to measure time: not from the ascension of a new world power like Caesar, but from the exaltation of a faithful old couple and from the in-breaking of God into human history.
God’s sense of time is not like ours. We operate in chronos time – the ordinary sequence of events that marks the passing of our seconds and minutes and hours and days until our time runs out. God operates on kairos time – the right season, the fullness of the times, the sudden interruption of chronos with an advent, a coming, of God into our midst. Luke the historian marks time from the beginning of Caesar’s rule – the fifteenth year of Tiberius – marks time based on human power. Luke the theologian marks time from the appearance of an angel, from the answer of prayer – the sixth month – marks time based on human weakness and God’s power.
This detail of Advent – this difference in God’s way of marking time – is a challenge to us: find God’s time – kairos – in the midst of the pressing rush of world time – chronos. Do you sometimes feel powerless, sometimes old and barren? That’s just chronos ticking away, of no consequence whatsoever. Look for God’s moment, God’s season – look for in-breaking kairos – in the midst of this. Look for Advent. God still answers prayer. God still sends angels – of all sorts – with his good news. God still prepares the way for his coming – and he is always on the move, always coming to us. Tell time not as a historian, but as a theologian. Look for God in your seconds and minutes and hours and days and lives.
A demon disguised as an angel of light came to one of the desert monks. “I am Gabriel,” the demon greeted him, “and I have been sent to you by God.” The old monk scarcely interrupted his prayers as he replied, “You must have the wrong person. I’ve done nothing to deserve a visit from an angel.” Immediately the demon disappeared.
Now in the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. And having come in, the angel said to her, “Rejoice, highly favored one, the Lord is with you; blessed are you among women!”
But when she saw him, she was troubled at his saying, and considered what manner of greeting this was (Luke 1:26-26, NRSV).
These two stories aren’t so different, are they – except, of course, that it really was Gabriel who appeared to Mary? She is troubled by the angel’s greeting: highly favored one, blessed among women. Mary knows that, in the society of her day, she is ordinary, at best; she even describes her state as lowly, describes herself as a maidservant. And it would be difficult to imagine anyone apparently more powerless than Mary. But, a detail in the story changes all that. Unlike the desert monk Mary doesn’t say to Gabriel, “You must have the wrong person.” She says instead, “Behold the maidservant of the Lord! Let it be to me according to your word.” Then Gabriel departs, having received the assent, the faithful yes, of this ordinary woman who has become the most blessed among women. “Blessed is she who believed, for there will be a fulfillment of those things which were told her from the Lord,” Elizabeth tells her just a bit later.
This is the detail in the story, this one phrase: “Let it be to me according to your word.” When in God’s time – in kairos – it was time to step into history in the person of his only begotten son, when it was time to redeem the world, when it was time to put all things to rights again, God didn’t seek the help of the high and mighty or the rich and powerful. God sought only the “yes,” the faithfulness of one powerless young woman, the complete surrender of herself to the will of God. And that simple “yes” changed the world.
God’s sense of power is not like ours. I recently heard Barak Obama described as the most powerful man in the world. Really? By whose estimation and by what token? Was Caesar really the most powerful man in the world the day Gabriel appeared to Mary? Did he really hold in his hands the future of the world? Or was this lowly maidservant, this peasant woman more powerful in that moment than all the emperors Rome would ever know? The essence of human power lies in the simple, faithful yes to the will of God spoken by a lowly servant of God.
This detail of Advent – this difference in God’s sense of power – is a challenge to us: say yes to the will God. Though it may disrupt your plans, though a sword may pierce your heart, say yes to the will of God and release his incarnate power in your life and in the life of the world. True power lies in this small detail: in saying yes to God.
After she says yes, after she gives flesh to God, after she is hailed by Elizabeth as the mother of the Lord, Mary sings.
My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,
my spirit rejoices in God my Savior; *
for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed: *
the Almighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his Name.
He has mercy on those who fear him *
in every generation.
He has shown the strength of his arm, *
he has scattered the proud in their conceit.
He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, *
and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things, *
and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has come to the help of his servant Israel, *
for he has remembered his promise of mercy,
The promise he made to our fathers, *
to Abraham and his children for ever (BCP 19-20).
I’m neither an English teacher nor a Greek scholar – barely competent in only one of those languages, really – but I do find a striking detail of language in Mary’s Magnificat. It’s all there in the verb tense. Consider first the context of Mary’s song. Gabriel has spoken the word of God to Mary and Mary has conceived the Word of God in her womb. She hurries to see her kinswoman, Elizabeth, to make certainly all this is real; she needs to see the swelled belly of this old, barren woman. Upon her arrival Elizabeth greets her much as Gabriel had earlier: 42 Then she spoke out with a loud voice and said, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! 43 But why is this granted to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? 44 For indeed, as soon as the voice of your greeting sounded in my ears, the babe leaped in my womb for joy. 45 Blessed is she who believed, for there will be a fulfillment of those things which were told her from the Lord” (Luke 1:42-45). Then Mary is sure. Then Mary sings.
He has shown the strength of his arm, *
he has scattered the proud in their conceit.
He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, *
and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things, *
and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has come to the help of his servant Israel, *
for he has remembered his promise of mercy.
All these verbs show past action. Mary is singing about what God has already accomplished through the proclamation and fulfillment of the incarnation. Outwardly, nothing in Mary’s life has changed. The proud still disregard her lowly estate. The mighty – Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate, Herod, Annas and Caiaphas – still wield power. Dives still feasts while Lazarus begs. Israel is still in exile under Roman occupation. Or so it seems to everyone but Mary, for she has been shown the new reality that God has spoken into being – which brings us round again to the final words of Isaiah’s Second Song:
For as rain and snow fall from the heavens *
and return not again, but water the earth,
Bringing forth life and giving growth, *
seed for sowing and bread for eating,
So is my word that goes forth from my mouth; *
it will not return to me empty;
But it will accomplish that which I have purposed, *
and prosper in that for which I sent it (BCP 15).
The proud, the mighty, the rich, the oppressors: these do not create reality; God speaks reality into being. From the moment the words go forth from God’s mouth they are a fait accompli – a thing accomplished and irreversible. So what if our eyes do not yet see God’s reality; that is what faith is for. So what if our ears do not hear God’s new reality; that is what singing is for. So what if pride and might and wealth still seem to matter; that is what the incarnation is for. It’s all there in the details of the language – a new reality, a new creation, already spoken into existence by God Almighty, already “fleshed-out” in the incarnation.
This detail of Advent – this subtle use of language and the light it sheds upon reality – is a challenge to us: live by faith and not by sight. Confront every oppressive power in your life and in the life of the world with the good news that God has spoken a new reality into being, a new reality in which Jesus – the Word incarnate – is Lord, a new reality in which the Kingdom of God is among us even now and will one day be apparent to all.
These are just details of course, but what details.
Amen.
(Micah 5:2-5a/Luke 1:46b-55/Hebrews 10:5-10/Luke 1:39-45)
Details
Blessed be God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
And blessed be his kingdom, now and for ever. Amen.
Little details of the big story of Advent: that’s our focus today. Advent is such an epic tale, spanning centuries and nations, spanning eternity and heaven and earth, that little – yet rich and meaningful – details easily might go unnoticed or unmentioned unless we keep our eyes focused and our ears attuned to the small scale as well as to the large. So, today we look at the story writ small. It is sometimes said that the devil is in the details. But I think God is there.
In the Second Song of Isaiah we read these true words:
For my thoughts are not your thoughts, *
nor your ways my ways, says the Lord.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth, *
so are my ways higher than your ways,
and my thoughts than your thoughts (BCP 14).
If there is a unifying theme to these little details of Advent it is precisely this: that God’s thoughts are not our thoughts, nor God’s ways our ways.
St. Luke has been and is our guide for this Advent, which is a good thing since he is a keen observer of detail. He prides himself on it, as he make clear in the prologue to his two-volume history, the Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles.
Since many have undertaken to set down an orderly account of the events that have been fulfilled among us, 2just as they were handed on to us by those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and servants of the word, 3I too decided, after investigating everything carefully from the very first, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, 4so that you may know the truth concerning the things about which you have been instructed (Luke 1:1-5, NRSV).
We saw Luke’s attention to detail in the Gospel reading last Sunday when he introduced the ministry of St. John the Forerunner.
In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, 2during the high-priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness (Luke 3:1-2, NRSV).
Luke gives us a detailed accounting of time, after the fashion of his day; this is Luke the historian at work. A new ruler comes to power and the calendar resets and future events are measured from the beginning of his reign. Luke is thorough here; he mentions the powers-that-be at almost every level: Tiberius, ruler of the world; Pontius Pilate, his governor over Judea; Herod, the Idumean puppet-king of Galilee, and his co-regents Philip and Lysanias; Annas and Caiphas, the religious authorities in Jerusalem. Time and power are inseparable in this accounting. Time is a measure of power.
Now, let’s go back in the story of Advent some three decades to watch Luke address another measure of time. This time it’s not Luke the historian, but Luke the theologian.
In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, 27to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary (Luke 1:26-27, NRSV).
In the sixth month: that’s all Luke writes to specify time – nothing about Caesar, nothing about Herod, nothing at all about any of the powers-that-were at the time. In the sixth month. What does this mean: in the sixth month of what, or in the sixth month since what? Since you know the big story, you know this detail: in the sixth month since the angel Gabriel announced to Zechariah that his barren, old wife would conceive and bear a son and that her son would be the forerunner, the herald, of God’s messiah. Now this is a different way to measure time: not from the ascension of a new world power like Caesar, but from the exaltation of a faithful old couple and from the in-breaking of God into human history.
God’s sense of time is not like ours. We operate in chronos time – the ordinary sequence of events that marks the passing of our seconds and minutes and hours and days until our time runs out. God operates on kairos time – the right season, the fullness of the times, the sudden interruption of chronos with an advent, a coming, of God into our midst. Luke the historian marks time from the beginning of Caesar’s rule – the fifteenth year of Tiberius – marks time based on human power. Luke the theologian marks time from the appearance of an angel, from the answer of prayer – the sixth month – marks time based on human weakness and God’s power.
This detail of Advent – this difference in God’s way of marking time – is a challenge to us: find God’s time – kairos – in the midst of the pressing rush of world time – chronos. Do you sometimes feel powerless, sometimes old and barren? That’s just chronos ticking away, of no consequence whatsoever. Look for God’s moment, God’s season – look for in-breaking kairos – in the midst of this. Look for Advent. God still answers prayer. God still sends angels – of all sorts – with his good news. God still prepares the way for his coming – and he is always on the move, always coming to us. Tell time not as a historian, but as a theologian. Look for God in your seconds and minutes and hours and days and lives.
A demon disguised as an angel of light came to one of the desert monks. “I am Gabriel,” the demon greeted him, “and I have been sent to you by God.” The old monk scarcely interrupted his prayers as he replied, “You must have the wrong person. I’ve done nothing to deserve a visit from an angel.” Immediately the demon disappeared.
Now in the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. And having come in, the angel said to her, “Rejoice, highly favored one, the Lord is with you; blessed are you among women!”
But when she saw him, she was troubled at his saying, and considered what manner of greeting this was (Luke 1:26-26, NRSV).
These two stories aren’t so different, are they – except, of course, that it really was Gabriel who appeared to Mary? She is troubled by the angel’s greeting: highly favored one, blessed among women. Mary knows that, in the society of her day, she is ordinary, at best; she even describes her state as lowly, describes herself as a maidservant. And it would be difficult to imagine anyone apparently more powerless than Mary. But, a detail in the story changes all that. Unlike the desert monk Mary doesn’t say to Gabriel, “You must have the wrong person.” She says instead, “Behold the maidservant of the Lord! Let it be to me according to your word.” Then Gabriel departs, having received the assent, the faithful yes, of this ordinary woman who has become the most blessed among women. “Blessed is she who believed, for there will be a fulfillment of those things which were told her from the Lord,” Elizabeth tells her just a bit later.
This is the detail in the story, this one phrase: “Let it be to me according to your word.” When in God’s time – in kairos – it was time to step into history in the person of his only begotten son, when it was time to redeem the world, when it was time to put all things to rights again, God didn’t seek the help of the high and mighty or the rich and powerful. God sought only the “yes,” the faithfulness of one powerless young woman, the complete surrender of herself to the will of God. And that simple “yes” changed the world.
God’s sense of power is not like ours. I recently heard Barak Obama described as the most powerful man in the world. Really? By whose estimation and by what token? Was Caesar really the most powerful man in the world the day Gabriel appeared to Mary? Did he really hold in his hands the future of the world? Or was this lowly maidservant, this peasant woman more powerful in that moment than all the emperors Rome would ever know? The essence of human power lies in the simple, faithful yes to the will of God spoken by a lowly servant of God.
This detail of Advent – this difference in God’s sense of power – is a challenge to us: say yes to the will God. Though it may disrupt your plans, though a sword may pierce your heart, say yes to the will of God and release his incarnate power in your life and in the life of the world. True power lies in this small detail: in saying yes to God.
After she says yes, after she gives flesh to God, after she is hailed by Elizabeth as the mother of the Lord, Mary sings.
My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,
my spirit rejoices in God my Savior; *
for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed: *
the Almighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his Name.
He has mercy on those who fear him *
in every generation.
He has shown the strength of his arm, *
he has scattered the proud in their conceit.
He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, *
and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things, *
and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has come to the help of his servant Israel, *
for he has remembered his promise of mercy,
The promise he made to our fathers, *
to Abraham and his children for ever (BCP 19-20).
I’m neither an English teacher nor a Greek scholar – barely competent in only one of those languages, really – but I do find a striking detail of language in Mary’s Magnificat. It’s all there in the verb tense. Consider first the context of Mary’s song. Gabriel has spoken the word of God to Mary and Mary has conceived the Word of God in her womb. She hurries to see her kinswoman, Elizabeth, to make certainly all this is real; she needs to see the swelled belly of this old, barren woman. Upon her arrival Elizabeth greets her much as Gabriel had earlier: 42 Then she spoke out with a loud voice and said, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! 43 But why is this granted to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? 44 For indeed, as soon as the voice of your greeting sounded in my ears, the babe leaped in my womb for joy. 45 Blessed is she who believed, for there will be a fulfillment of those things which were told her from the Lord” (Luke 1:42-45). Then Mary is sure. Then Mary sings.
He has shown the strength of his arm, *
he has scattered the proud in their conceit.
He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, *
and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things, *
and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has come to the help of his servant Israel, *
for he has remembered his promise of mercy.
All these verbs show past action. Mary is singing about what God has already accomplished through the proclamation and fulfillment of the incarnation. Outwardly, nothing in Mary’s life has changed. The proud still disregard her lowly estate. The mighty – Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate, Herod, Annas and Caiaphas – still wield power. Dives still feasts while Lazarus begs. Israel is still in exile under Roman occupation. Or so it seems to everyone but Mary, for she has been shown the new reality that God has spoken into being – which brings us round again to the final words of Isaiah’s Second Song:
For as rain and snow fall from the heavens *
and return not again, but water the earth,
Bringing forth life and giving growth, *
seed for sowing and bread for eating,
So is my word that goes forth from my mouth; *
it will not return to me empty;
But it will accomplish that which I have purposed, *
and prosper in that for which I sent it (BCP 15).
The proud, the mighty, the rich, the oppressors: these do not create reality; God speaks reality into being. From the moment the words go forth from God’s mouth they are a fait accompli – a thing accomplished and irreversible. So what if our eyes do not yet see God’s reality; that is what faith is for. So what if our ears do not hear God’s new reality; that is what singing is for. So what if pride and might and wealth still seem to matter; that is what the incarnation is for. It’s all there in the details of the language – a new reality, a new creation, already spoken into existence by God Almighty, already “fleshed-out” in the incarnation.
This detail of Advent – this subtle use of language and the light it sheds upon reality – is a challenge to us: live by faith and not by sight. Confront every oppressive power in your life and in the life of the world with the good news that God has spoken a new reality into being, a new reality in which Jesus – the Word incarnate – is Lord, a new reality in which the Kingdom of God is among us even now and will one day be apparent to all.
These are just details of course, but what details.
Amen.
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