December 8th,
2013 “Musings of One in the
Wilderness” Rev. Heather Jepsen
Matthew 3:1-12 with
Isaiah 11:1-10
For some reason, I am feeling the
tension between the consumerist Christmas and the call of Advent particularly
strongly this year. Perhaps it was the
accepted move of Black Friday onto Thanksgiving Thursday, and suddenly what
once was a quiet time at home with family, has become an opportunity to push
someone out of the way as we reach for a flat screen TV. Or perhaps it was because Thanksgiving was so
late this year; as if we turned around and suddenly we were already behind on
all the shopping, wrapping, decorating, and baking involved in Christmas
preparations. Or perhaps it is simply
that I am getting older, and losing touch with that holiday madness that seems
to consume us as children. Whatever the
reason; today I am feeling like I am occupying two opposite worlds at the same
time.
On the one hand, I have one foot
firmly planted in the land of traditional American Christmas. I have to tell you, I love Christmas. Christmas is my favorite time of the
year. I can’t wait to bust out the
Christmas CDs and get out the decorations.
Heck, we put up our outside lights on a really warm weekend in early
November. And all the inside decorations
promptly came out the day after Thanksgiving.
I love all the preparations for the
holiday. I love shopping. I feel blessed to have the financial
resources to shop for family and friends.
I love buying toys for my kids.
Wrapping presents while the music from the Nutcracker plays in the
background is one of my favorite things to do.
I also love all the extra time in the
kitchen. Cooking is fun for me and this
is a great time of year. With all the
special things I make only at Christmas, from crab puff snacks to special
Christmas Day egg casserole this is a great time. This year in particular I am busy planning
extra cookies and things so I can send a care package to my own parents in time
for the holidays. Mom is not well enough
for baking this year and I would hate for Dad to miss out on all the holiday
treats.
A lot of clergy parents my age have
asked me about Santa, do we celebrate him in my house, and I say of
course. We didn’t start going to church
until I was in high school so Santa was a very big deal to me growing up. That was the only story we told this time of
year and the magic of Christmas was very real in my house. In fact in 8th grade I sent a
letter to Santa telling him how much I believed in him. Imagine my surprise as that year the 8th
graders at my school were writing Santa reply letters in English class, and my
letter showed up there. Awkward! In continuation of my own family tradition, I
hold the Santa Christmas story alongside the story we celebrate here in church.
Of course the story we tell here in
church during this time of year is a deeper, more profound, more real story
than any tale of Santa or the spirit of giving at Christmas. I have one foot firmly planted in the outside
world, and one foot planted here, in the story of the church. And this year it is a story I am longing to
tell. And a story I am longing to hear.
More than ever, I am craving a safe
space to come and celebrate my faith. I
am craving quiet time, I am craving rest, I am craving reflection, and I am
craving meaning. This Christmas, I want
something more. John the Baptist wants
that too. The voice of one crying in the
wilderness, calling people to prepare the way of the Lord,
John the Baptist has always been a bit
of an outsider this time of year. While
the story of Mary, Joseph, and Baby Jesus seems to make its way into the
secular celebrations, John the Baptist is always left on the pages of the
Bible. You won’t find any inflatable
John the Baptist yard art with glowing camel’s hair robe and jumping
animatronic locusts. And you won’t find
any Christmas cards bearing his tidings of “Tis the Season to Repent”. John the Baptist is as unwelcome in our time
as he was in his own.
And yet, people were drawn to
his message. People streamed out of the
cities, people traveled in from the countryside; Matthew tells us that from the
whole surrounding area people gathered to hear the alternative message that
John was preaching. People were longing
for something more. They were longing to
hear that the world was not OK, and that they themselves were not OK. People were longing to confess their sins, to
be baptized, to start anew, and to prepare their hearts for the one coming in
fire.
Are we so different? I don’t think so. In our modern churches today we shy away from
language of sin and repentance. Those
terms so often used as a club to beat down those among us who were different,
have now become completely rejected.
That’s too bad. While guilt and
shame have no place in the church, language of repentance and change
should. We all know sin, and we all see
it in our own lives. We need to
acknowledge and admit our own brokenness, if we are to receive the gift of love
that Christ offers.
This time of year, when things are all
happy clappy, holly jolly, merry Christmas, and ho ho ho; I am longing for
something more. I am longing for a
message with some real meat on its bones.
Sure it’s a great story, the sweet babe in the manger, and Santa and
gifts, but is that who we really are? Is
that the only story there is? Because
sometimes when we all smile at each other in the check-out line, I feel like
it’s a sham.
This holiday season I want more. I want John the Baptist, calling me to
repent. I want him yelling at the
religious authorities, calling it all a lie, and pointing out that the emperor
has no clothes on. I want to be baptized
by the Holy Spirit and fire. I want to
feel something real. I want to be
changed. I want the Christ to come with
his winnowing fork in his hand, to burn away the chaff of my life and make me
right and whole again. I want Christmas
to matter, and not just be about some sickly sweet treacle of a story. I don’t just want a birth, I want a
resurrection.
The words of the prophet Isaiah are
all about resurrection. A shoot shall
come out from the stump of Jesse, a branch shall grow out of his roots. New life, new growth, hope springing forth
like a green tendril from a dead end.
All that was broken and wrong, all that was hardened and burned, all
that was put away in sorrow and shame; now redeemed by new life. A shoot, from a stump.
I want that story this Christmas. I want new life and resurrection. I want God to touch all the burned out dead
places of my heart and call them to send forth shoots, call them to reach out
in new growth, call them to look to the sun and a new day. I want more than a flat screen TV, I want the
touch of God in my life.
I don’t think I am the only person
here who feels this way, and that’s why we came here today isn’t it. I mean, there is so much to do to prepare for
Christmas, who can afford the time to come to church? I ask who can afford not to?
There are a lot of chances this season
to come here, to visit this sanctuary, and to seek that other message. Come on Tuesday nights for Taize, sit in
silence with God and others, prepare your heart for the repentance that John
the Baptist calls us to. Come on Sunday,
to hear the true message of Christmas from the choir and from our youth. Let us experience this joy together and hear
the story from new voices. Come on Christmas
Eve, to celebrate the birth of the baby in the manger, the shoot from the stump
of Jesse, the beginning of new life and the promise of resurrection.
When we gather in a few short weeks on
Christmas Eve, and we sing our favorite songs, and we hear the story again,
that is my favorite night of the year.
Visit that moment with me in your mind.
As we light the candles and we pass the flame to each other, as we sing
Silent Night, and we look into each other’s smiling faces, I get tears in my
eyes. I cry. Because it is the most beautiful and the most
real thing I know. As much as I love
them, I don’t need Christmas Trees, and presents, and Santa. No. I
need you, the church, and all the promise and love and joy and resurrection
that we believe in and that we are. That
is what this season is about. Amen.
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