Sing with Joy

3 Advent, December 16, 2018

Cathedral Church of St. Paul, Burlington, Vermont

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Theologian in Residence

Zephaniah 3: 14-20

Canticle 9

Luke 3: 7-18

Let us pray: Clothe your ministers with righteousness; let your people sing with joy.        

Some of my favorite memories revolve around the Christmas season, perhaps most especially when I was a child. I’ll never forget the year when I peeked down the stairs a little too early and saw what I thought was a man with a bag on his back. Scared, I ran back to my bed! Later, I discovered that I hadn’t inadvertently caught Santa in the middle of his visit, but rather it was my Christmas gift. It was a bird cage on a pole, and the cover over the cage looked very much like Santa’s bag filled with toys.

            In the bird cage was a sleeping canary, who I named Christopher on that Christmas morning. He was a lovely, soft colored yellow bird and sang with a beautiful clear voice. He was easy to please and easy to feed. The only problem was that after a few short months, Christopher died. And so, in the Spring of that same year, I carefully buried him in our garden, with twigs for a cross. Christopher 2 soon replaced him and unfortunately met the same fate. Christopher 3 was no different. And so that Easter, I asked for a pony and got a rabbit instead. I named her Hoppy.

            We often assume that our childhood memories are filled with good things and fun memories; and yet, you and I know that isn’t always the case. Like the infancy narratives of Jesus, we tell the truth as we recall it, and yet it’s a story told by many people. The Advent season is traditionally marked with the colors of blue, purple, and pink, which are intended to remind us visually of a time for both penitence and joy. I find that joy is an odd combination of both happy and sad: a recognition that weeping may spend the night but joy comes in the morning.

            The prophet Zephaniah has only 3 chapters in his book in the Old Testament, and the first two chapters are full of doom and gloom. Jerusalem had been captured and defeated by the Babylonian empire and many of the Jews had been exiled to Babylon. Far away from their Temple, separated from their family and friends, and longing for the good old times, they could not sing in this foreign land. They hung up their harps and by the waters of Babylon, they sat down and wept, which is why some churches during Advent offer a liturgy called “Blue Christmas.” It is a time when we remember our losses and look forward to the future with hope.

On this 3rd Sunday in Advent, many churches, families, or individuals light a pink candle in their Advent wreaths to symbolize this hope and a lightening of the Spirit in the dark days of winter. Today is known as Gaudete (gow DEH eh) Sunday, named from the Latin word “rejoice.” St. Paul, in his letter to the Philippians, encouraged them to “rejoice in the Lord always; for the Lord is near!” Isaiah invited us to “Sing the praises of the Lord, for the Lord has done great things, and this is known in all the world.” Even God exults over us today, said the prophet Zephaniah, with loud singing as on a day of festival.

If there is any one thing that I have learned while I have been your theologian in residence for these past 6 weeks is that you are a community that loves music. Whether it’s in concerts or a choir, with voices or instruments, you are eager to sing, as well as listen to others. Boston is similar; and so I read with great interest a story in the Boston Globe this past week, about an 89 year old woman who loves music. She had attended a concert at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Brookline, Massachusetts, which was called the “Walk to Paradise Garden.”

After only three pieces, the co-director saw that this elderly woman had slumped into the man who was seated next to her. Halting the concert, the music director asked if there were any medical people in the church, and like here, four doctors immediately responded. After two very tense minutes, the 89 year old woman was resuscitated, and it was determined that her pacemaker had temporarily failed.

            An ambulance was called, and yet she protested. “For two minutes she kept saying, ‘But I don’t want to go to the hospital! I just want to stay at the concert! I just want to hear the music!’ Members in the audience later told the co-director that the concert “was something they’d never forget.” There were ghoulish jokes about the music being “heart -stoppingly beautiful” like it is here! But more importantly was the idea that if she had stayed at home that night, she would have died. Today, I’m glad that you’re here in this community, and I hope to see you later this evening at O Antiphons!
            Advent messages usually include images and songs about both death and birth, of judgment and salvation, of repentance and promise. In today’s gospel, John the Baptist continued his own prophetic warnings, using the vivid imagery of vipers, trees being cut down, and thrown into fires. With many exhortations, he told his followers to bear fruits worthy of repentance. Do not rely on the good deeds of others, or on what your Mommy or Daddy has done. Your faith is “on you”, John the Baptist declared; and so in a panic, his followers asked him what they should do. Share what you have, be satisfied with what you receive, and give to others. You never know when that ax will fall.

            Transitions are times of grief and loss, times of joy and sadness, times of hope and possibilities for new life. Your cathedral has been through multiple transitions over these many years and you will enter into a new kind of transition in January, when the Rev. Laura Bryant will join you as your long-term interim. Minnie Louise Haskins once offered this meditation, “I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year ‘Give me a light that I may go into the unknown. But he said ‘Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God. It shall be better than a light and safer than the known way.’”

 “Joy requires us to sidestep sentimentality and cynicism alike.” Debie Thomas wrote. “It requires that we hold onto two realities at once: the reality of the world's brokenness in one hand, and the reality of God's love in the other. Joy is what happens when we live into the belief that God can and will bridge the gap between the world we long for and the world we see before our eyes.” (Christian Century 10/13/17) Or as  theologians in residence will say, “God is now here, and God is not yet.”
            For those of us who have had the privilege of pregnancy and childbirth, we know that the transition of a baby through the birth canal is hard work and intense, a journey from darkness to light. My last story has particular meaning for me this year, and comes from the late Henri Nouwen, who lived with the L’Arche community in Canada, and comes from a book entitled, Our Greatest Gift. In the run-up to Christmas, I think it bears repeating, like some of our best Christmas hymns.

“Twins are speaking to one another in the womb. The sister said to her brother, ‘I believe there is life after birth.’ Her brother protested vehemently, ‘No, no, this is all there is. This is a dark and cozy place, and we have nothing else to do but cling to the cord that feeds us.’ The little girl insisted, ‘There must be something more than this dark place. There must be something else, a place with light where there is freedom to move.’ Still she could not convince her twin brother.”

“After some silence, the sister said hesitantly, ‘I have something else to say, and I’m afraid you won’t believe that either, but I think that there is a mother.’ Her brother became furious. ‘A mother!’, he shouted. ‘What are you talking about? I have never seen a mother, and neither have you. Who put that idea in your head? As I told you, this place is all we have. Why do you always want more? This is not such a bad place. After all, we have all we need, so let’s be content.’”

“The sister was quietly overwhelmed by her brother’s response, and for a while she didn’t dare to say anything more. But she couldn’t let go of her thoughts, and finally said, ‘Don’t you feel these squeezes once in a while? They’re quite unpleasant and sometimes even painful.’ ‘Yes, he answered. ‘What’s so special about that?’ ‘Well”, the sister said, ‘I think that these squeezes are there to get us ready for another place, much more beautiful than this, where we will see our mother face-to-face. Don’t you think that’s exciting?’”

Today, we rejoice as we prepare for the birth of Jesus, and remember his mother Mary. Some day, we too shall see them face to face, when we join that heavenly chorus, and move into the everlasting light of Christ. There is life after birth, and something new and exciting is in store for all of us next year. In preparation for Christmas, what then should we do? John the Baptist answered, “Share what you have, be satisfied with what you receive, and give to others.” And I say, even when the feathers get stuck in your throats, and tears are part of your silent nights, sing aloud; for not only is Santa Claus coming, but the Easter bunny is not far behind, and God is here with us right now.

Sing out, good people of St. Paul’s, ring out your joy to the world; for our greatest gift is coming, and the One who is more powerful than death, will come again. Amen.