Sermon

Dec. 11, 2005

A Sermon Preached at St. Stephen’s on Dec. 11, 2005, by the Rev. Cork Tarplee

Today I want to talk to you about the unexpected. That’s what this season of Advent is all about after all. The closest relative to the word “Advent” in the English language is the word “adventure.” The two words share the same basic meaning and the same sense of the unexpected coming our way. G. K. Chesterton said that “an adventure is, by its nature, a thing that comes to us. It is a thing that chooses us, not a thing that we choose.” This is a time of getting ready, to be sure, but it is a time of getting ready by leaving room for the unexpected. Last week in a meeting with some high-school students about a conference that included a dance, I was surprised to hear one of the kids mention that old parochial school dictum about “leaving room for the Holy Spirit” when you dance. That’s just the right message for Advent, it seems to me. We prepare best for the coming of Christ when we “leave room for the Holy Spirit.”

The message of the Nativity has always been about the unexpected. Today we have twice recited Mary’s hymn about her pregnancy, the Magnificat as it is known in Latin. It is the first reminder among many in the Nativity narratives that the first birth of Christ came as a reversal of the expected social order. In choosing an unmarried peasant girl to bear the Messiah, says the song, God has cast down the proud, the mighty and the rich, and has lifted up those who are lowly and hungry. This is a reversal of the way of the world, and Mary greets it with joy. Not so, the rest of the world. In a part of Nativity narrative that is rarely read we are told about King Herod who was so fiercely determined to have the future unfold the way he wanted it that he killed all the newborn babies of Israel to try to keep God’s new King from the throne. Determined to force into being the future he chose instead of the future that was choosing him, Herod did a lot of damage and caused himself untold distress.

We do a lot of that ourselves in life, especially when we are anxious about the future. Even when the future we want to call into being is a pleasant celebration, like the Christmas of our dreams, we can work so hard at getting what we want that there is no room for the unexpected—and the unexpected may be the best part. It takes a lot of faith when you have a lot to do and when you are really invested in the outcome to “leave room for the Holy Spirit.” It takes a lot of faith to trust that the perfect Christmas dinner may come together in some imperfect ways—ingredients improvised, unexpected offers of help accepted, major pieces left undone--and still turn out better than you imagined it.

Jim Taylor tells about a precise and controlling friend that ordered a drink in a restaurant and was so particular about specifying that it was to contain “just a little” cranberry juice that somehow the order came back garbled. What she got was cranberry juice with a little Kahlua in it. Normally the woman would have sent the drink back in a rage, but the concoction was so bizarre that her friends insisted on a sip first. Turned out it was delicious and they all included the new drink in their holiday repertoire.

What we all need in order to leave room for the Holy Spirit in our lives is the faith that God’s plans for us are greater than we can possibly imagine. Our Bible readings remind us that this is so. Through the prophet Isaiah, God says to us, “Be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating…new heavens and a new earth!” To the Thessalonians, St. Paul says, “be at peace…and rejoice always…because the one who calls you is faithful.” John the Baptist, recognizing that his own ministry has been superceded by Jesus’ ministry, says “my joy has been fulfilled.” The pages of the Bible are full of these reminders of the inevitability of God’s plan to bring good things into the world—usually in unexpected ways.

So this is a season for us all to remember what we have been taught: to prepare for the coming of Christ into the world, but not to think that it all depends on us. The hope that God will fulfill what is important for us is still the most important thing to believe in. From preacher Tom Long, I first heard the story of Rabbi Hugo Grynn who was sent to Auschwitz as a child. Surrounded by the horrors of death and degradation, Grynn recalls, it was important to hold onto every shred of hope that faith could give. One cold December night, Hugo’s father gathered the family in their barracks to welcome in the first night of Chanukah. The boy watched dumbstruck as his father took the family’s last bit of butter and formed it into a candle with a bit of string. As his father started to light the Chanukah candle, little Hugo cried, “Father, no! The butter is our last bit of food! How will we survive!” His father replied, “We can live for many days without food. We cannot live for a single minute without hope. This is the fire of hope. Never let it go out. Not here. Not anywhere.”

God’s promise is this: God wills peace and joy in your life and mine. That peace and joy will come as surely as spring will come to a frozen land. It is important that we live our lives with that expectation. It will keep us from hurting ourselves and others in our anxiety. It will help us leave room for the Holy Spirit. It will help us recognize God’s unexpected gifts when they come. As we light our Advent wreathes this year, remember that this is the fire of hope. Never let it go out. Not here. Not anywhere. AMEN