Steven Earl Gordon, RIP

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newtown, Connecticut

April 9, 2022

The Rev. Nancy E., Gossling

If there are worse times in our earthly lives, I can't imagine them being much worse than what you, the family members of Earl Gordon, have endured this week. Shock is like an arctic chill blowing unexpectedly on a warm summer day. It’s like a volcano erupting, and sending hot lava down upon your village. It’s like dust descending from a nuclear bomb, reminding us how fragile our human lives really are. Such is the season of Lent when we remember that we are dust and to dust we shall return.

After his son died, Belden C. Lane wrote, “There are times when the soul needs a canyon. A wide empty space unoffended by rage, un-insulted by tears. What are canyons, anyway, but absences, losses, vast places for pouring out our grief.”  (Christian Century, 3/9/22 , p20)

Having suffered the recent loss of your beloved husband, Laurie, and your loving father, Greg and Zach, and to all the extended family members and friends wherever you are, you may feel at times that this tragic death is almost too much to bear. Earl was too young. It was too soon. He was too good of a human being to suddenly disappear from our lives. 

In a Grief Observed, C.S. Lewis describes such a loss to be like a person who has lost a leg. Crutches and prosthetics may help us initially, and surely they will in the days to come, but the absence of a body part will always remain. And Earl was a member of the body of Christ, and a beloved member of his family. So how do you mend a broken heart? Or replace a piece of our Body that seems to be gone forever?

During this initial time of mourning, we will all cope with feelings of sadness, guilt, anger, yearning, confusion, and fear. In her book A Time to Grieve, the author writes that “the death of a loved one is, for most of us, the most profound emotional experience we will ever have to endure.” (Intro) There is no set schedule for grief. No right or wrong way to do it. It is our individual journeys that we take into that vast and deep canyon, sometimes accompanied by others, and more often, usually at 3 o’clock in the morning, when we walk alone. Our cries of grief will echo in that canyon.

“Canyons, in the end, have their way,” wrote Belden Lane. “They require our acceptance of emptiness. To encounter a canyon, we have to resist the temptation to fill what needs to be left open. Only love can fill the deepest void of the human heart. And all God needs is a hole that’s left open” to let the light shine in and to mend our broken hearts. 

This past week, when traveling in my car, I would listen to the radio station called The Message. I needed some blessed assurance, some renewal of my faith, and the song entitled Scars in Heaven helped me to cope. Casting Crowns sang, “There's a wound in my heart where something is missing. And they tell me that it's gonna heal with time.” So now is the acceptable time, I tell my Lord.

Distracted by my thoughts, I am guilty of driving too fast, perhaps even recklessly, and so I ask you, who drives carefully at 55 mph these days except Earl? Unfortunately, being careful doesn’t always protect us from accidents and heartbreaks. And so, after the dust has settled, and the merciful numbness of our shock wears off, we can begin our process of healing, recognizing the fullness of our emotions, and the deep love that we have for Earl. 

We may be afraid of that deep canyon that looms before us. Our words may catch in our throats, our voices will crack and our chins will quiver, and we will seek relief in a variety of ways. Our minds will get stuck in endless loops, repeating those groundhog day questions, like the arm of a record player stuck on the groove of an old vinyl LP. Angry, we may cover our deep sorrow, by shaking our fists at God and snapping at others. With eyes overflowing with tears, we will wonder if our pain will ever subside. And some of us will ask God to fill the void and heal the devastation that we feel in our hearts.

Earl was a man full of grace and truth, a kind man full of compassion and mercy, a little man with a big heart, and a good man we were privileged to know and to love. In this sacred space, in this community of faith, and in this sanctuary, which is a safe haven for all people, Earl served as an usher for others in their times of sorrow. He was a willing servant to this church community and to this town; and he made a difference in people’s lives throughout our world. Reserved in his words, his twinkling eyes and his generous smile clearly communicated love. 

Earl was a beloved child of God, who shared his life and his love in his own gifted and unique ways for over 66 years. He was a great cook, an accomplished businessman, and a generous host.  Earl had an adventurous spirit: riding his bicycle in China, taking railways and airplanes to explore different cities, driving around islands in a Jeep with Laurie, and hiking or skiing on the trails in the Adirondacks. Earl was Craig’s back up man for our snowmobile adventures, preparing us for our rides, and digging us out of the deep snow when we got stuck. 

We all have special memories of Earl and I hope you will continue to share them with others over the days to come. I remember the deep love that Earl had for his family, and the gratitude he had for his friends and his work. He was my dinner partner at our last supper together, with his good ear on my left side. We sipped red wine together as we ate the feast of food that lay before us. Before the meals that he and Laurie prepared for our community of 12, Earl would say grace. His prayers were always thoughtful, faithful, and heartfelt. Still waters run deep even in these empty canyons of our lives.

Times like these raise questions about heaven and earth; and we may wonder if there is a Resurrection from the dead, and a life in the world to come. If there is any truth to our faith, we may wonder occasionally, what’s up with Earl now? Is he at peace? Does he know our pain? Is he free from his own? And does he feel our endless love? 

When a little girl woke up in the middle of the night during a violent thunderstorm, her father tried to comfort her by assuring her that God was always there. In response, with tears running down her face, the little girl cried out, “Yes, but I want God with skin on Her.” 

In our journeys from birth to death, we need each other to help us, to care and protect us, the way Earl did for so many people, most especially his family. We need people with skin on them to offer us words of comfort, food for the soul, and strength for our journeys. As you enter into your own canyons of emptiness, talk to God. Talk to Earl. And talk to those whom you love and trust.

In our salvation story, God promises that God will never forsake nor abandon us, nor will God ever leave us comfortless. After his own death, Jesus promised that he would send God’s Holy Spirit to be with us, wiping away our tears, offering us hope, and giving us a peace that passes all understanding. Despite our incomprehensible grief, Jesus reminds us “not to let our hearts be troubled but to trust in God. Believe in God, believe also in me,” he said.  (Jn 14.10)

In God’s house there are many dwelling places, and there is room in the inn for us all. There is a feast of food and well-aged wines ready and waiting on the table. When we arrive there someday, perhaps Earl will usher us into God’s kingdom, pull out a chair for us like the gentleman that he was, and then he will say grace. Then, and only then, will our hearts be fully healed and God’s mission of reconciliation will be complete.

At his own last supper, Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, you will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born, she forgets the anguish. Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy. And on that day,” Jesus told his disciples, “you will no longer ask me anything.’ (Jn 16:20-23) 

So, today is our time for both grief and for the celebration of a life well-lived and a man well-loved.

I hope you can hear us now, dear Earl, and feel the overwhelming love that we all have for you. Rest in peace, dear friend. We thank God for the light of Christ that shines in our darkness, and for the love of God that is poured into our broken hearts. We thank God for you, Earl, and that the only scars in heaven are on the hands that hold you now. 

Suffering

3 Lent, Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Let us pray,

            BCP, p 815, For Peace

Eternal God, whose perfect kingdom no sword is drawn but the sword of righteousness, no strength known but the strength of love: So mightily spread abroad your Spirit, that all peoples may be gathered under the banner of the prince of Peace, as children of one Father; to whom be dominion and glory, now and forever. Amen,

 “Then the Lord said, ‘I have observed the misery of my people. I have heard their cry. I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them.’”

Distraught by the loss of his son to a crippling disease, Rabbi Harold Kushner wrote the familiar book When Bad Things Happen to Good People. He wanted to share what he had learned from his own personal tragedy and to help others find their way through loss and suffering. Suffering is a big word. It’s a deep word. And it is a word that is both personal and communal. 

Bad things are happening to good people in Ukraine, and people all around the world are watching them suffer. And yet, we know that suffering can be found everywhere, perhaps even today in your own life. Oftentimes we are distantly sympathetic until the suffering comes knocking on our door. Cancer strikes. Addiction surfaces. Dementia appears. Refugees cross our borders. We lose our jobs, suffer a divorce, and grieve for people we love. Suffering affects our bodies, our minds, our hearts, and our souls. Personally and communally.

 “In September, the Pew Research Center asked adults in the United States about their views on why suffering exists: 44 percent of the people said that ‘sometimes bad things just happen’, 22 percent explained that ‘suffering is mostly a consequence of people’s own actions,’ 19 percent said that suffering is a result of the way society is structured’, and another 19 percent claimed that suffering ‘provides an opportunity for people to come out stronger.’” 

Sometimes, as the saying goes, “Bleep happens!” A car slides on black ice and hits your car. A brick falls off the roof and smashes your head. A tornado or hurricane or earthquake destroys people and property in your community, and so it goes. Who's to blame when these random acts of violence happen to us personally or communally and cause us to suffer?

Now you and I know that the war in Ukraine didn't just happen, although it stinks to high heaven. It was a matter of choice, and there is plenty of blame to go around. This suffering is clearly a consequence of human behavior and not just a random event; it is described as pure evil. Which is why 22% of adults say that ‘suffering is mostly a consequence of people’s own actions.” Which begs a question: Are some people worse sinners and offenders than others?

Not really, Jesus said, referring to the massacre of the Galileans in the temple of Jerusalem and the collapse of the tower of Siloam. He tells his followers that “whether it is a man-made tragedy (Pilate’s slaughter of the Galileans) or a random catastrophe (the fall of the tower of Siloam) there are no worse sinners nor worse offenders in either case. Look at yourself, he said. Unless you repent, you too will perish. Or as St. Paul warns the Corinthians, and President Zelensky warns the Europeans, “If you think you are standing, watch out that you do not fall.”

There is a great deal of focus on our world leaders these days, and what they have done and left undone. Now Pontius Pilate was considered a weak-willed leader, often succumbing to the pressure of others. Described as an evil person, and known for his brutal reprisals and disdain for religious practices, he not only slaughtered the Galileans in their temple but he also killed Jesus in order to prevent an uprising among the people. He was a friend of Herod Antipas, who governed the northern region of Galilee; and their relationship was described as an “unholy collusion.” Who is the worst offender or sinner? Pontius Pilate or Vladimir Putin? Herod Antipas or Adolph Hitler?

Historically, Jesus had become the voice of the people of his country, who felt vulnerable, powerless, and oppressed by foreign invaders and governed by ruthless and corrupt leaders. The Galileans were farmers, fishermen, carpenters, and faithful Jews, just like Jesus. They only wanted to live and work in peace, while providing for their families, and building their local communities.

 The Pew Research results said that 19 % of respondents claim that suffering is “mostly a result of the way society is structured.” In his book The Cultural Dictionary of the Bible, John Pilch writes that “Jesus' parable of the barren fig tree is not advice for growing trees but a political comment on their failed community leaders. Jesus was making a statement about his own country’s current affairs and leadership, at his own peril. If things don't change, the barren fig tree should be cut down. And the “bleep” that was happening to them should be dumped on their leaders heads instead.  (p. 97)

The fig tree, like the Russian hammer and sickle, was often used in the Bible as a metaphor for Israel. In a book entitled Palestine in the Time of Jesus, the authors wrote, “The story about the languishing fig tree symbolizes the elite stranglehold under which Jesus’ society had fallen. As more and more land was controlled by the elites, production no longer reflected what the ordinary Palestinian wanted.”

 “Then the Lord said to Moses, ‘I have observed the misery of my people; I have heard their cry. I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them.’” St. Luke was known for his concern about social justice and used reversals to indicate the way that God would operate in their world. Not as the Great Enforcer, not as the Roman Emperor nor the Russian Czar, not as the President of Ukraine nor as the President of the United States. Instead God would become the Great Redeemer, the Great Deliverer, and the Savior of all generations in our world. 

Through Jesus, God would bring good news to the poor, proclaim release to the captives, and recovery of sight to the blind. God would let the oppressed go free, and proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. God would speak and act through Jesus for all the world to see and hear.

“Suffering provides an opportunity for people to come out stronger” another 19% claimed in the Pew Research. Or as the saying goes, “If it doesn't kill you, it will make you stronger.” When suffering strikes, when wars rage on, when bad things happen to good people, God will help us; for God is our superpower. In a holy collusion with Jesus, God’s Spirit announced that God so loved the world that God chose to live and die as one of us, and to suffer for our sakes on the cross. Jesus’ suffering was both personal and communal.

So whenever testing overtakes us, St. Paul wrote, we will not be tested beyond our strength; and God will provide our way out. When manure happens, when our best efforts bear no fruit, when our systems seem unfair, and the scales of  justice tip out of balance, when we fall into our old ways of sin, we can always turn to God for help. In ages past and even today.

 Indeed, in his letter to the Romans, St. Paul claimed that “We can (even) boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us.” Like the acts of the apostles, we too can carry that message in our own bodies, minds, hearts, and souls. Just like the people in Ukraine.

 We know that history repeats itself; and we will always see examples of good and evil, of right and wrong, of suffering and endurance. “These things happened to serve as examples, and were written down to instruct us,” wrote St. Paul.  And later, in 1942 from Berlin, Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, ”We are instruments in the hand of the Lord of history. We must participate in Christ’s own magnanimous heart by engaging in responsible action. Inactive ‘waiting and seeing” or impassive ‘standing-by’ are not Christian attitudes.”  (Meditations on the Cross, Solidarity in Suffering,  pp 25-26))

As faithful Christians and moral human beings, we can offer simple acts of kindness and moral goodness every day. As the saying goes, “We can think globally; and act locally.” So here’s a final story from Peace Tales: World Folktales to Talk About.

 “Once upon a time, a man visited hell, where he was amazed to find people sitting around a table, with all kinds of food piled high. Maybe hell wasn’t so bad, he thought.”

“But then the man looked closely at the people; and they all looked hungry - in fact, they looked like they hadn’t eaten in a very long time. He noticed that everyone around the table had been given chopsticks that were 3 feet long; but the people couldn’t get any of the food into their mouths. And so, the man could see that this indeed was hell.”

“Next the man went to heaven. To his surprise, he saw people seated around a table filled with the same good foods. They also had chopsticks that were three feet long! But this time the man noticed that these people looked happy, full, and satisfied.The difference was that they were using their chopsticks to feed each other!”

This Lent, what fruit will we bear before our fig trees are cut down? How will we respond to the suffering of others? And will we speak and act like Jesus, the only One who was without sin, and a perfect example for us all? Amen.

Exodus 3:1-15

1 Corinthians 10:1-13

Luke 13:1-9

Psalm 63:1-8

Spiritual Freedom

 Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill        The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

“Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” Let us pray, Come Holy Spirit and set us free. Amen.

Freedom is a special gift, a privilege to be honored, and a way of life to be defended. As President Ronald Reagan once said, “Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn't pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same.” Freedom comes in a variety of ways: freedom of speech, freedom to choose between good and evil, freedom to live without fear of foreign invasion. Physically, mentally, and emotionally we yearn to be free. And in today’s passage from 2 Corinthians, St. Paul writes about spiritual freedom; for “where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”

As tempting as it may be to preach about the war in Ukraine this morning, and the fight of its people to maintain their freedom, I won’t. This morning is a time for joy when we will celebrate the baptism of Rudyard Barbot Moats, and I find that babies and baptisms are an antidote for many of my worries. As one colleague recently said, “They make me smile.” And I would add, they give me hope.

An owner of an orphanage in Ukraine, Mark Davis, recently said, “We can look into the innocent faces of these children” and find some peace and joy, even under difficult circumstances. And as Rev. Mike recently wrote, “Although hatred, injury, doubt, despair, darkness and sadness are very real right now, through the power of the Holy Spirit and the God-given grace of baptism -  love, pardon, faith, hope, light and joy are God's weapons to meet them all.” 

In baptisms we can see people, “with unveiled faces, reflecting the glory of the Lord as though in a mirror.” With the freedom of the Holy Spirit in baptisms, we can see a future filled with possibility and promise; for we celebrate God’s spiritual gifts of faith, hope, and love. What’s not to love about babies and baptisms?

On Thursday mornings, our women's Bible study group just finished reading a book called The Confessions of St. Augustine. He confesses that his mother wants him to be baptized, thinking that this would save his soul from eternal damnation.When St. Augustine finally chose to be baptized, he declared that it was a life-changing, grace-filled, and transformative event. His mother died a happy woman.

Guilt and fear lie deep within us all; and St. Paul writes that through baptism, not only are our sins forgiven, but it is our ticket to ride into resurrection life. Like a Charlie card that opens a turnstile into a multi-layered system, we gain access to a train that transports us to our final destination. Like the subway system in Kyiv, it is a safe place for all ages. With many stops along the way, this train will eventually take us to a place of eternal rest, freedom, and peace.

According to our theology, besides the human being, there are only three things that are absolutely necessary for a baptism, and that is water, the Spirit, and one person performing the action. Two of these things are visible; and one is not. So we splash or dunk or sprinkle or squirt our human beings with life-giving water; and, at the same time, we acknowledge that something else is going on. The invisible Spirit of the Lord is at work, and “where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” 

I was baptized as an infant in the Congregational Church in Needham, Massachusetts. It was understood that my parents were making a choice for me then, which, later as an adult, I could confirm. At the age of 13, however, I chose not to be confirmed because I wasn’t sure that I believed in God. I was neither a believer nor a grown up at the time; and yet at age 32, the same age as St. Augustine, I changed my mind. 

My family members were church-goers and people of religious faith, although we didn’t talk much about God outside of church. We didn’t talk much about the Spirit either, unless it had something to do with happy hour. And so, after getting married and having a family of my own, Paul and I continued our Christian family traditions. We baptized our children as infants and then let them decide about their confirmation. One chose yes; the other no. One goes to a Lutheran church now. And the other reads the Bible at home. Both are people of faith, hope, and love. 

As parents, we took our children to church because we wanted to feed our kids physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually and we knew that we needed help. But like St. Augustine, I wondered about God. Are there some invisible realities and powers that I couldn’t see? Nor that my mind could grasp? Was there any hope and help for my human relationships, which suffered occasionally from diseases, disagreements, and divisions? And what about our world and all those wars? So, before I chose to confirm my faith as an adult, I wanted some answers. 

I started attending Bible study thinking that, with a little focus on my part, I could crack the code. I would see God behind the iron curtain, or like the Wizard of Oz, find her sitting in a chair in the back room, streaming our lives virtually. I kept looking for visible proof of my invisible God. I wanted ironclad assurances. 

Like St. Augustine, eventually it was not me, my mind, nor my education, but God’s Spirit that opened for me the way of freedom and peace. In his letter to the Romans, St. Paul wrote, “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.” (Romans 6:3-5) And boom, there it was. I came to believe that I had already arrived. United to Christ, I saw death merely as a blip on a very long screen. United to Christ, I heard the promises of resurrection life. I finally knew a peace that passed all understanding.

I have twin grandsons in Minnesota who were born three months prematurely. Peter weighed in at 2 pounds and Nathaniel at 1 pound 13 ounces. Uncertain whether the twins would survive, my daughter and her husband asked their pastor to baptize Peter and Nathaniel in the hospital. Pastor Toby used a syringe filled with water for the baptism and spoke the official words. 

Meanwhile the Spirit of God was at work. Setting us free; giving us peace; filling us with hope, and inviting our prayers. NICU babies are called “Wee Warriors” because, with help, they fight for their lives. Next month, we will fly to Minnesota to celebrate the twins’ 3 year old birthdays.

The women in our Bible study said that they like it when the priest makes a cross on the human being’s forehead, and then says, “You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in baptism, and marked as Christ’s own forever.” Regardless of your age, and whether you are receiving or observing a baptism, these are comforting words. We can imagine an invisible protective bubble surrounding us in a world that frequently appears dangerous and visibly unsafe.

In an article published in The Living Church, Sarah Hinlicky Wilson, tackled the issue of infant and believers’ baptisms head on. She argues that baptism is primarily God’s work upon us, and not our work for God. So, is it all about God’s work and not ours? Have we no part in our redemption? Have we no responsibility nor accountability for our words and actions? Or are we just passive recipients of those invisible powers? 

Our baptismal covenant offers us some guidance. We answer, with God’s help, we can become visible agents of God’s invisible Spirit. We can become freedom fighters for justice and peace. With God’s help, we can care for God’s creation as if it is a newborn child. Created with free wills, we can make choices at every age. And we can fight for life.

In Christ, we are offered a spiritual freedom that no one can take away. It is a freedom that cannot be killed. Yes, our minds will get hardened with daily news, doubt, and disbelief. And occasionally we may lose hope. We may even get discouraged when we see the fragility of life and the harsh realities of sin. But, “if for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied,” wrote St. Paul to the Corinthians. And so today, we join generations of Christians who believe that “the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” And today, we see people here who are passing the torch of freedom, faith, hope, and love to the next generation. 

So welcome Rudyard Barbot Moats. I don’t know what you believe in that little body of yours, nor even what any of these people all around you believe, but I can tell you this. I believe that the Spirit of the Lord is working right here and right now. And I believe that your baptism is an outward and visible sign of God’s invisible grace. So fasten your seatbelt, little man, and come Holy Spirit and do your thing!

Exodus 34:29-35

2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2

Luke 9:28-36, [37-43a]

Psalm 99

 

Joy to the World

 

Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Recently, in talking with a colleague from another church, he described one of his parishioners as an “Eeyore.” Constantly complaining about how bad things were in the numbers and the news, it was all doom and gloom. Like people you may know, Eeyore is generally characterized as a pessimistic, gloomy, depressed, and old gray stuffed donkey. “It’s still snowing. And freezing. However, we haven’t had an earthquake lately,” said Eeyore to Winnie the Pooh.

I heaved a sigh in front of someone last week and he quickly responded. “That sounds like a middle of the winter kind of sigh.” In truth, I was having a case of the ‘woe is me’s.’ I had grave concerns about the health of some family members and friends. I was tired of the weather and the pandemic, and I was a little grumpy about the losses of my favorite basketball team. Finally, I was unhappy with the challenges of aging. 

In the words of Jeremiah, I was feeling “like a shrub in the desert, which cannot see when relief comes. (I was living) in the parched places of the wilderness, in an uninhabited salt land.” And I didn’t want to push out into the deep waters as Mike suggested in his sermon last Sunday. Nope, I was Eeyore, pessimistic, gloomy, depressed, and feeling like an old gray stuffed donkey.

The ‘woe is me’s’ attitude is often attributed to Jeremiah, who was known as one of the major prophets in the Old Testament. He was also known in a song written by Hoyt Axton called “Joy to the World” which was made famous by the band, Three Dog Night. Jeremiah was a bullfrog, who “was a good friend of mine. I never understood a single word he said. But I helped him drink his wine. If I were the king of the world, tell you what I'd do. I'd throw away the cars and the bars and the war, and make sweet love to you.” Jeremiah was all about peace and love.

Some people have theorized that there is a Biblical meaning to this song. They suggest that the bullfrog is representative of the prophet, Jeremiah, and that the bullfrog is symbolic of the voice of God. Apparently a member of Three Dog Night said that the original lyrics to the song were "Jeremiah was a prophet" but no one liked it. So it just became a “silly song” that helped bring the band back together as a working unit.

Jeremiah’s prophetic career coincided with the critical events in his country's history. Like Eeyore, Jeremiah, the prophet, had a reputation for his laments. There was no joy in his world. At first, he argued with God that he was only a boy, and too young to be a prophet. Initially, he spoke words of judgment, offering ‘woe is you’s’ to the people of Judah. He endured both hatred and persecution from his very own people.

Be obedient to your ancestral faith and the commandments of Moses, Jeremiah insisted, and not to the King David dynasty. Do not rely upon the priests and your temple worship to save you. Instead of fighting a war, Jeremiah told them that they should acquiesce to the Babylonian invasion in order to avoid national destruction. Invasion of borders is a hot topic these days as well, and many prophets are making various suggestions! 

Some 600 years later, Jesus, the prophet, also spoke some  ‘woe is you’s’ to the people of Israel. In a challenge to his religious leaders, he said, “Woe to you who are rich, full of yourselves, laughing at others, and have good reputations because you are false prophets. Instead of speaking the hard truth of God, you only say what people want to hear and to protect your own power.

Later in the gospel of Luke, Jesus piles on even more. Woe to the cities and people who reject me. Woe to the Pharisees and lawyers who are focussed on the letter of the law rather than its spirit. Woe to the people who cause others to stumble, especially children, and to pregnant women and nursing mothers when the end times come. Finally, at his last supper, Jesus said woe to the ones who will betray me. Pointing always to God, he spoke truth to power and for the powerless.

St. Augustine in his book entitled Confessions talks about his sinful pleasures and his eventual decision to be baptized. He hoped to lead a different kind of life. But there was a great deal of ‘woe is me’s’ before that. “Woe is me!” he wrote. “Lord, have pity on me; my evil sorrows contend with my good joys, and on which side the victory lies I do not know. Behold, I do not hide my wounds. Thou art the Physician, I am the sick man; thou art merciful, I need mercy.”

Turning to God for help, we can turn our “evil sorrows into good joys.” We can change our attitudes and perhaps even our lifestyles. Jeremiah eventually changed his words of judgment into messages of hope. He invited his people to help rebuild Jerusalem after its destruction by the Babylonians.

“Blessed are those who trust in the Lord,” he said. “They shall be like a tree planted by water, sending out its roots by the stream.” Which is why the crowds came to hear Jesus as well. The multitudes wanted to be healed of their diseases, cured of their troubles, and rid of their unclean spirits. If only they could just touch Jesus, they thought, he would turn their woes into blessings. 

Occasionally we will need to adjust our attitudes so that we can see life and even death from a new perspective. William Shakespeare once said, “There is nothing either good nor bad, but thinking that makes it so.” And in a daily meditation, the author of Today’s Gift wrote, “Attitude is everything. And luckily for us, our attitudes are a matter of choice. Nothing or no one in the past or present can dictate our attitudes. No one else deserves credit or blame for how we choose to process reality. For better or worse, our attitudes are ours alone.” (Hazelden/BettyFord, Today's Gift, Feb. 3)

Every day, we can look for simple moments of joy, as the great Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu suggest in the Book of Joy. With attitudes of gratitude we can give thanks for our many blessings, even for the thorns in our rose gardens, the parched places in our wildernesses, and the dry bones in our bodies. We can always find streams of living water, flowing from the side of Christ.

In the end, Jeremiah began to talk about a new covenant. The law of Moses would not be found in the stone tablets displayed in the temple of Jerusalem. The new covenant would not come from the kingly powers of a foreign government or even from their current administration. The new covenant would not even come from their priests, but rather it would be written on the hearts of all God’s people. God’s love and peace and joy are all spiritual blessings that are always present even when our woes and Eeyores surround us.

Jesus' message was similar to Jeremiah’s, both the prophet and the bullfrog. He gave his people a new commandment, that we love one another as He loves us. Jesus incarnated the peaceful, nonviolent, healing, and loving power of God. This Word of God made flesh invited us to love God first; for our health and salvation are God’s desires for us. Opportunities for rebuilding, renewal, and resurrection are given to us every single day. They just come wrapped in different packages, and are spoken by different prophets, throughout the ages.

Poor indeed are we, if we do not understand the riches that God offers to us in Christ. Hungry indeed are we, if we have not yet found the food of eternal life. Sorrowful indeed are we, if we have faced our losses without the comfort and hope of resurrection. And despised indeed are we, if we cannot share from the abundance of our riches.

Put your trust in the Lord, said Jeremiah. Have faith in God’s power, said Jesus. Believe in the resurrection, said St. Paul; for Jesus wasn’t just a moral leader, a great teacher, and a compassionate healer. Nor was he just a prophet and a religious revolutionary of his time. No, Jesus was the One who brought joy to our world.

 When Eeyore shows up at your door, and you’re feeling like an old, gray stuffed donkey, turn to Jesus, and sing  a silly song, like Three Dog Night. “Joy to the world, all you boys and girls right now. Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea. And joy to you and me.

Jeremiah 17:5-10

1 Corinthians 15:12-20

Luke 6:17-26

Seeing Jesus

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling, Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts

             A few weeks ago, I had my annual optometrist’s appointment. Since the 8th grade I’ve needed glasses in order to see things in the distance; and recently I’ve discovered that there is a benefit to aging. My vision is actually improving.

I am a visual person. I like to see people. I like to read. I like to watch movies and observe nature. How, then, did the people of Nazareth not see Jesus? If they were there, and He was up close and personal, how could they miss Him?

 Matthew Arnold, in a daily meditation entitled Today’s Gift, wrote, “The endeavor, in all branches of knowledge, is to see the object as it really is. Often we can look right at something and not see it. Sometimes we see what we expect to see, sometimes we see what we want to see, and sometimes we just plain miss what’s right there in front of us. If the brain and heart aren’t involved, an eyewitness account may be little better than a guess. We need more than our eyes to get the picture; for things are not always what they appear to be.” (Days of Healing, Days of Joy: Daily Meditations for Adult Children, 01/03/2022)

Over time, my eyesight has changed along with my mind, my heart, my body and my soul. “When I was a child. I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, and I reasoned like a child.” I used to think that love came in pretty packages and fairy tale romances. With every passing decade, with every wedding and funeral that I have attended, and every anniversary that I have celebrated, when I hear this passage from Corinthians, and measure my own ability to love, I often feel like a failure. 

Truth be told, St. Paul was chastising the Christians in Corinth for their failure to love. Writing his letter from a distant city, St. Paul could see what was going on in Corinth, and he didn't like what he saw. Some people thought they were better than others because of their wealth or intelligence. They thought they understood all the mysteries of religion; for they could speak in tongues, and had prophetic powers. Indeed, they even had faith; but they didn’t have love.

Consider the context and the culture of Corinth at that time. The city was built at a strategic location in Greece, on a crossroads between the Middle East and Rome, like the United States between Europe and Asia. Internally, the city connected the northern and southern parts of its country, like Washington D.C. between Boston and Miami. At the time of St. Paul’s letter to the Corinthians the city was ethnically, culturally, socio-economically, politically and religiously diverse, just like the United States. 

Understandably, the Christians in Corinth were confused about Jesus and, despite their arrogance, they were still immature in their faith. Some people thought that Jesus was coming again very soon, and so they indulged in every kind of extreme behavior. Some people had become tired of waiting; and so eat, drink, and be merry was their credo. Or they didn’t believe in Jesus at all. In essence, socio-economic differences, pagan rituals, multiple religious faiths, civic and religious laws, as well as cultural customs and family traditions, pulled the people in Corinth in many and various directions.

In effect, St. Paul thought that the Christians in Corinth were being too tolerant of some behaviors while being too rigid in others. They were acting like immature children, fighting with one another, and taking each other to civil courts instead of working it out among themselves. They aligned themselves with certain religious leaders, like Apollos and St. Paul, rather than with Jesus. They were divided and quarrelsome. 

According to St. Paul, they were envious, irritable, resentful, impatient, and unkind to one another. This church in Corinth was not a model of a faithful Christian community. Nor were they exhibiting idyllic human behavior. “Look in the mirror,” St. Paul wrote to them. Think again about what you are doing and saying. It doesn’t matter how good it is, or how generous you are, if you do not have love, you gain nothing.

Look and see what Love looks like, wrote St. Paul. Love is patient and kind, not envious, boastful, arrogant or rude. Love doesn’t allow for certain kinds of behavior. It speaks the truth without being a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. It treats every person with dignity and respect. And yes, it involves changes in our brains and our behaviors because we begin to see things differently. We look at things from a divine perspective, or even from our opponents or enemies. When we see our human natures more clearly we can also begin to understand our faith more fully.

Lanta Davis, an associate professor of humanities and literature at Indiana Wesleyan University, wrote an article entitled “A Vandalized Imagination” suggesting that our current Christian culture has hijacked or distorted our faith. We see Jesus in our own image and not in God’s. Rather than seeing Jesus as a white male of European descent, or the leader of a certain political or religious organization or country, we can see Jesus more realistically by using early Christian icons and cultivating our imagination as a spiritual practice.

With Ignatian contemplative prayer we can imagine ourselves back in Corinth, even back in Nazareth. We enter into the scripture stories as if we were there in Greece or Israel. So why is it that the people of Nazareth didn’t see Jesus? Maybe their expectations of Jesus were wrong. They wanted him to heal them and not the foreigners; they thought they were privileged because he was their hometown boy; and so they were blinded by their rage when he didn’t do what they wanted.

 Perhaps they were distracted by many things.They had demands upon their own lives, like caring for their families and putting food on the table; they were working hard and didn’t have time for changes and challenges. Perhaps overly dependent upon their brains and their religious traditions, their hearts weren’t fully engaged; and so their vision of Jesus remained superficial. He’s only a man and not our messiah. He’s only a child and not a grown man; he’s only the son of Mary and not the Son of God. 

When our faith is seeking understanding, we must engage all parts of our bodies. We must use both our heads and our hearts. Using the imagination of our minds, our vision improves. With prayer, we exercise our souls and remember that God loves everyone. We can ask God to “Open our eyes to see your hand at work in the world about us.” Then, with improved spiritual eyesight, we can look for Jesus everywhere, and begin to understand with our minds, hearts, bodies and souls that by “his blood he reconciled us and by his wounds we are healed.” 

St. Paul holds up a mirror for us to see ourselves. We see how we have failed in the Way of Love; and we know that we can do better. We admit that love is messy - in our families, our churches, our nation and the world. Through prayer and imagination, with renewed spiritual insights, we can see that Perfect Love is humanly impossible. Both then, in Corinth and Nazareth, as well as now in Chestnut Hill. We can see Jesus, God’s perfect love made manifest in his words and deeds.

Our human vision will always be partial; our knowledge will always be incomplete, our hearts will never be fully healed, and our souls will always be restless until they find their rest in God; for “now we see in a mirror only dimly.” In the meantime, we can bear all things, believe all things, hope all things and endure all things until “we finally see Jesus, face to face.” 

Today, imagine yourself with Jesus. Pray that God will help you become not only a better Christian but also a better human being. Pray, and ask God to open your eyes to see Jesus. Know Him. Love Him. And then love others as He loves us. In living that way, surely, we will gain everything. Amen.

1 Corinthians 13:1-13

Luke 4:21-30

Conversion of St. Paul

Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill, Evensong at 5:00, Sunday, January 23, 2022 Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

The dramatic story of St. Paul is well known by most Christians. Indeed St. Paul’s faith story is chronicled in the Acts of the Apostles, and in many of the New Testament writings, beginning with his letter to the Galatians. We read about two very different St. Paul’s: a faithful Jew who persecuted and murdered followers of Jesus and the converted St. Paul who became a faithful missionary, evangelist, preacher, and teacher. Not only was Jesus the messiah for the Jews, St. Paul claimed, but Jesus was the messiah for all God’s beloved children. Proclaiming that Jesus rose from the dead, and that resurrection life is God’s promise to everyone, St. Paul testifies that our faith in Him is never in vain.

When I listen to the news recently, I often hear doom and gloom, which can be attributed to many things, depending upon where you live and to whom you listen. We seem to swing from one extreme to another, and like free radicals in our bodies, those toxic byproducts of oxygen metabolism that can cause significant damage to our living cells and tissues, radical extremists can do infinite harm to us and to our collective bodies as well. 

Recently, the public has been invited into the courtrooms of many highly visible cases. Judges and juries become subjects of scrutiny and the importance of self-defense and our personal freedoms have been highlighted. Our legal system remains critical in handing down fair verdicts; and our laws have become subject to public debate, interpretation, and revision.

Today, we are celebrating the conversion of St. Paul, and in preparing for this sermon, I couldn’t get past the very first reading in the Acts of the Apostles. Here is recorded St. Paul’s testimony in a court trial. After being imprisoned by the governors of Judea for over two years, he offers his self-defense in front of King Agrippa. We listen to his testimony as if we are members of the media or the jury, perhaps even stepping into the shoes of King Agrippa. Appealing to the emperor, St. Paul is eventually sent to the courts in Rome, the equivalent of our states sending decisions to Washington, D.C.

Yes, St. Paul admits that he has done great harm to the followers of Jesus. Initially they were all Jews, who had hoped that Jesus would become their new king and save them from the oppressive Roman government. However, Jesus’ followers grew exponentially among the gentiles as word about Him spread beyond the country of Israel. The churches of Judea heard that, "The one who (once) was persecuting us is now proclaiming the faith he once tried to destroy." (Galatians 1:24

At first, adhering to his own religious laws, and given power and authority by his own chief priests, St. Paul was “convinced that he “ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus.” Fueled by his religious fervor, Saul “shut up many saints in prison.” He “voted against” Christians, condemning them to death, sometimes even pursuing them into foreign countries. Why? Because, according to his faith story, he was “exceedingly mad!” In modern translations, he was “furiously enraged.” He thought it was his job to bring these people to justice.

Consider those two little words “exceedingly mad” or “furiously enraged.” People of all political and religious affiliations are often fueled by fervor. Prophets and politicians demand justice and sometimes will go to extremes to get it. Now I’m not opposed to fervor; and there’s nothing wrong with anger; indeed it’s a perfectly good human emotion. When people don’t obey our laws, or when they harm others, it’s easy to become angry. When people violate our human rights, we get mad. And righteous anger acknowledges that there are injustices in our systems that need to be righted. But “exceeding madness”? Or “furious rage”? 

Some claim that what’s happening in our country and our world right now is “sheer madness.” Like the free radicals in our bodies, radical extremists can do infinite harm to our collective bodies. Unmedicated mentally ill people and unrestrained criminals, or extremely angry people, cause fear and violence on our streets. Like the fury that accompanies a woman scorned, a tornado that crosses state lines, or a pandemic that never ends, these things or people hurt everyone in their path.

When people act with extreme behaviors, there is no justice, only cries for mercy. There is no distinction, and there is no prejudice. Our collective body is wounded. Windows are smashed, goods are stolen, bullets fly, and people are stabbed. Subways are unsafe, cities are trashed, our streets and buildings are occupied. Threats are made, weapons are wielded, and borders are fortified in self defense. And people wonder why? How have we come to this sheer madness and how can we make this furious rage end?

What stops these cycles of harm, and these downward spirals of destruction, we might ask ourselves. For St. Paul, it wasn’t his religious leaders or the political powers of the Roman government that convinced him to behave differently. Furiously enraged and exceedingly mad, galloping on his high horse to Damascus, he was literally “out of his mind” when he was knocked to the ground. Blinded by a great light from heaven, he heard a voice saying, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” 

Persecution, as we know, can take many forms. We pursue people with a vengeance, with our words, our actions, and our laws, perhaps even thinking, like St. Paul, that it is for the benefit of our own people or party or it’s an act of religious faith. We take justice into our own hands. We claim that others are wrong; and so we fuel our madness with demagoguery and personal attacks. And yet when we “kick against our pricks” we only hurt ourselves. Despite our best intentions, the impact of our rage, madness, and extreme behavior is long-lasting. It hurts everyone for generations to come.

When I occasionally act differently from my usual behavior, my daughter will look at me in disbelief, and say, “Who are you?” And this is what St. Paul said to that voice when he was temporarily blinded by the light. Forced to his knees, he said, “Who are you, Lord?” The voice that responded was personal; it was not the voice of a heavenly Father speaking to Him from on high in a stained glass voice. Rather it was the voice of Jesus, who told him to get up, to redirect his energies, and gave him a new purpose: “to be a witness to those things which thou hast seen.” 

Insanity, as they say, is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. We often only change our behavior when the pain of our actions has become too great or we suddenly see the light. In fact change often doesn’t come until we feel the heat, and that little voice inside our head asks us, “What are you doing? Can’t you see how you are hurting yourself as well as others?”

Today we celebrate St. Paul’s conversion when he turned from hate to love. On that day Saul stopped his destructive behavior; he put an end to his exceeding madness and furious rage. Saul became a new man, and he received a new name. St.Paul.

It was not a one and done, however. In fact, St. Paul spent many years after his conversion being persecuted himself and being rejected by many people. Imprisoned several times, he was routinely beaten and betrayed by his very own people, and yet he did not waver from his testimony about Jesus. He did not return to his old behaviors. You might say he swung from one extreme to another; and yet he swung from madness to sanity, from rage to peace, and from persecution to proclamation. 

Today, if we find ourselves ineffective, furiously enraged, or exceedingly mad, we can turn to Jesus for help. Grounded in prayer, we can appeal to God to balance the scales of justice and mercy in our own lives and in our country. We can act like apostles and share our faith stories with the purpose that Jesus gives us. Tell them what you’ve seen and known; tell them how you’ve changed because of me.

Often we fear talking about our faith, and yet Jesus once told his disciples, “Take no thought of how or what you shall speak. For it will be given to you in that very same hour. For it is not you that speak, but the Spirit of your Father which speaks in you.” Conversion opportunities will come to us daily. So look for the Light and listen to the Voice. Then be a witness to God’s forgiveness and Way of Love. Amen.

King James Versions: The Acts of the Apostles 26:9-21; Galatians 1:11-24; Matthew 10:16-22

Singing with Mary

 4 Advent

Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Luke 1:39-45, (46-55)

Canticle 15 

Purify our conscience, Almighty God, by your daily visitation, that your Son Jesus Christ, at his coming, may find in us a mansion prepared for himself; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

Purify our conscience, we pray on this 4th Sunday in Advent, which means that we are asking God to clean up some of our thoughts. We are asking God to help us learn new ways of thinking and speaking and acting, and perhaps even singing.

Truth be told, I’m not always a patient person; and yet waiting is a part of this holy season we call Advent. It is an invitation to take time to prepare ourselves for God's gift to the world, which we call Jesus. As they say, He is the reason for the season! And so we remember a nativity scene in a stable in Bethlehem where Jesus was born because, as the story goes, there was no room in the inn for Mary and Joseph.

We also pray that when Christ comes again he will “find in us a mansion prepared for himself.” So Advent is a time about purifying and preparing ourselves, making room for Jesus, not just for the arrival of baby Jesus on Christmas morning, or for Christmas presents and holiday gatherings, but also for when Jesus comes again in power and great glory. We call this holy time in our lives the second Advent.

Yikes, I thought to myself, in what new and old ways can I purify my thoughts and my actions? How can I prepare myself for the birth of Jesus and the second coming of Christ? More importantly, do I have room in my inn or my mansion for either one? And in truth, would I even want Jesus to come and stay with me? Even if it’s just for a little while!

Maybe, I think to myself, I could make room for baby Jesus; for babies can be cute and cuddly, and especially peaceful when they’re sleeping. But the Son of God, coming in power and great glory, threatening to reverse my well-established life? “Nope,” as my grandson Nathaniel is quick to say. Or “No, thank you,” as his older cousin, Elia, responds more politely. 

Imagining myself before the throne of God, I try to justify myself. I tell God that I’ve been a pretty good girl, not naughty but nice. I’ve been a good Christian, a lowly servant, the handmaiden of our Lord, giving my time, talents, and treasure to help others. And yes, I confess, occasionally I’ve had some bad thoughts. I’ve spoken when I should have been silent; and I’ve acted unkindly. But for the most part, I’ve behaved pretty darn well. Just don’t ask any of my family or friends for details! 

Mary is 3 months into her pregnancy when she goes to visit her cousin Elizabeth, who is older, perhaps even wiser and maybe more polite, and now six months pregnant herself. The scripture story tells us that Mary traveled to visit her cousin Elizabeth alone. And yet, according to history, travel was dangerous and ill-advised, especially for women during these times. No wonder Mary went “with haste to this Judean town in the hill country;” for fear must have been her constant companion.

  I also wonder about Mary’s motivations. Why would she risk her life and that of her baby to visit her cousin? Was she desperate for support, perhaps because Joseph was reconsidering his engagement, or her father was threatening to throw her out? Was she afraid that she might be stoned to death for her illicit pregnancy? Or was she simply looking for someone who would share her experience, her hope, and her joy? 

St. Luke writes that there was some singing and loud crying going on, and babies leaping for joy in their wombs. And what's not to adore about all of that? We adore Mary, and the song she sings called The Magnificat, which  echoes two other jubilant songs by women in the Bible. The first song was sung by Miriam after the Israelites crossed the Red Sea, and the joy of their liberation and salvation overwhelmed her. The second song was sung by Hannah when she learned that she was pregnant with Samuel despite her advanced years. All three songs tell stories of liberation, adoration, and joy. All three songs magnify their souls as they praise God. All three songs proclaim good news.

Frankly, I confess that occasionally I am a little skeptical of the rosy pictures painted in the Bible. Perhaps succumbing to cynicism, historical realities, or my own personal knowledge, I have periodically questioned the Advent story. To wit, our four gospel stories prepare us differently. St. Mark fast forwards to a grown up Jesus, who is about to be baptized by his cousin John, who is older, questionably wiser, and definitely not more polite. 

St. Mark begins his gospel with these words: “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. As it is written in the prophet Isaiah,‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; telling the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”  This prophet is not only John who is preparing us but also Isaiah.

Now, we all know the story of Jesus and how his earthly life doesn’t end well. And yet St. Mark begins his story with the “good news” of Jesus. John claims from the very beginning that Jesus is more powerful than he, the thong of his sandal he is unworthy to untie. So in St. Mark's gospel, we have an Advent Jesus who is coming in power and great glory. No little baby Jesus here. And so we sing our songs of adoration on Christmas eve, as we fall on our knees and remember Him on that Holy Night.

Unlike St. Mark, St. Matthew begins his gospel story with Jesus as a baby, and with these words: “An account of the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah, the son of David, the son of Abraham.” St. Matthew is not looking forward to the second coming of Christ but back into history. He claims that Jesus came from good stock, a man whose ancestry goes all the way back to King David and even to Abraham.There is royal lineage in Jesus. He’s a descendent of Abraham, the father of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Jesus is honored by people of all these faiths.

In St. Matthew’s gospel an angel also appears to Joseph, who is a descendent of Jacob, later renamed Israel. The angel tells Joseph not to disgrace Mary; for she carries a child conceived by the Holy Spirit, who will save his people from their sins. This baby will become our King of kings, says St. Matthew, so make sure you honor him with your gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. 

John’s gospel, the fourth gospel to be written, is very different from the three synoptic gospels by Saints Mark, Matthew, and Luke. St. John starts his story with these words: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” There is no baby, indeed no adult human being, only the incarnate Word of God. There is no singing, no shouting, no leaping for joy by babies. There were no angels, no ancestors, no royalty other than God, only light and darkness. 

St. John claims that all things, all life, all creation came through this incarnate Word named Jesus, and that “without him not one thing came into being.” When asked if he was the Messiah, cousin John responded, “Nope. Rather, he came as a witness to testify to this light, so that all might believe through him.” And so St. John invites us to approach every birth, every new life, every messenger, and even every word as a part of God’s message of Love. On Christmas, we are invited to adore Jesus who brought life and light and joy to our world.

Like St. John, St. Luke is known for theologizing the incarnation story. He begins his gospel with these words. “Since many have undertaken to set down an orderly account of the events that have been fulfilled among us, just as they were handed on to us by those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and servants of the word, I too decided, after investigating everything carefully from the very first, to write an orderly account for you, so that you may know the truth concerning the things about which you have been instructed.”

And then St. Luke goes on to tell of the births of both cousin John and baby Jesus. Angels appear, people sing, and babies leap for joy. St. Luke also traces Jesus’ lineage, this time all the way back to Adam. Jesus becomes the new First Man, obedient to God’s will even on the cross. Mary becomes the new first woman, surrendering to God’s will in perfect obedience, so that Jesus might be born into our world. Pure Virgin, mother mild, Mary faithfully carries and bears God’s only Son, the future Messiah of all God’s beloved children. Given a choice to say “Nope”, or “No, thank you”, Mary says “Yes” to God.  And so too does Jesus.

Have you ever done that? I mean have you ever accepted an invitation in which you wanted to say “Nope” or “No, thank you” but changed your mind and said “Yes” instead? Have you ever wondered how something that appears impossible is eventually accomplished? Have there been times in your own life when, after a long period of darkness like COVID, and impatient waiting like we are now, a light has suddenly or perhaps gradually emerged? A new day dawns, and gestation produces new life? Have you ever responded faithfully, obediently, or perhaps even impulsively, when you’ve said “yes” and then later discovered that you were being prepared for things that you never imagined?

“So what about that room in the inn or the mansion in my own soul?” I ask myself again. And what songs will I sing this Christmas? Casting aside my impatience, skepticism, and cynicism, I listen again to the words of the Magnificat. 

I think again about baby Jesus, the Son of God who died on the cross, the Word of God incarnate, and the descendant of Abraham and Adam. Then I pray and ask the Holy Spirit to purify me so that I might praise God with songs of joy. I ask God to scatter my proud thoughts and help me act in the Way of Love. I remember once again that empty rooms can be blessings; indeed they are places for God to plant seeds of new life. And in a reversal of the poverty of my own soul, I discover the riches of God’s grace once again. 

 Do I have room in my heart for baby Jesus this Christmas? Or the Son of God, who will come again in power and great glory? Yes! I say to God. Yes! I sing with Mary. And maybe I’ll even invite Jesus to stay with me for a little while.