Showing posts with label Hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hope. Show all posts

Monday, December 23, 2019

Sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Advent, "The Redemption of Scrooge: The Hope of Christmas Future," Romans 8:18-31

Sermon 12/22/19
Romans 8:18-31, Luke 4:18-19, Matthew 11:29-30

The Hope of Christmas Future


This week we wrapped up our Advent study where we’ve been reading The Redemption of Scrooge by Matt Rawle, and digging deeper into the story of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol alongside our focus in worship. At the start of the class, I asked participants to think about the future - to think about a few hopeful things we see in our futures, and then to reflect on any ways in which we’re anxious, afraid, or maybe just feeling “angsty” about our future. I’m happy to report that we have a lot of hope, and one of the first things that came to mind as we thought about hope for the future was the children of our congregation, and the life and light they bring to us now, that we anticipate shining for years and years to come. But it was also pretty easy to think about ways the future looms with some anxiety, some worry or fear too. As we stand in the middle of a presidential impeachment process, we wondered about our future as a nation. We think of the threat of violence, stirrings of violence around the globe. We think of the planet, of waging wildfires and ecological devastation. Those are some big picture items we might worry about in our collective future. But I wonder about bringing it down to us as individuals, too. What does your future look like? Is it hopeful? Are there things in your own future you worry about? We talked about aging, and health, and death. Maybe there are some other things on your mind. Maybe, when you think about the path you’re on now, the future doesn’t always look welcoming. Are we - can we be - hopeful about our future? In this life, and in eternity - do we have hope? Or, when we look at the state of things now, have we gone too far off course, messed up too much, damaged and broken and hurt too much to look for a future with hope? 
Scrooge wrestles with some similar questions as he is visited by the third Spirit this week. Almost as soon as the Ghost of Christmas Present leaves Scrooge, another Ghost arrives. Dickens calls this Ghost a Phantom. The Phantom is draped and hooded, moves along the ground like a mist, and entirely silent, face concealed. Dickens writes that “in the very air through which this Spirit moved it seemed to scatter gloom and mystery.” Nothing of a body is visible except one outstretched hand. The Spirit fills Scrooge with dread and fear. He trembles so much he can hardly move. Scrooge  names the Spirit as the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. Still, Scrooge is determined to learn from the Ghost. He says, “Ghost of the Future! I fear you more than any spectre I have seen. But as I know your purpose is to do me good, and as I hope to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you company, and do it with a thankful heart.”
The Phantom brings Scrooge first upon a group of men talking about someone who has just died. They talk without affection, love, or grief. They try to figure out what will happen with the man’s money, but no one knows. Yet, even still, they agree to attend this man’s funeral, especially if a luncheon might be provided. Eventually the Phantom leads Scrooge away from the busy town into neighborhoods that are “foul and narrow.” They enter a beetling shop - a place where old rags would be made into fresh cloth, and more broadly, a kind of pawn shop. A housecleaner, a laundress, and the undertaker all arrive at the same time. After listening in on their conversation, we deduce that they are trying to sell items they have taken from the home of the recently deceased man. They talk about the man in scathing tones. He always took care of himself. He’s no worse off for the loss of a few things, since he’s dead. If he cared about keeping his things after death, he should have had better relationships in life. One of the women took the bed curtains and blankets off the bed to sell while the deceased was still lying dead. Scrooge is horrified at the whole scene. “The case of this unhappy man might be my own. My life tends that way, now.” Still, though, he’s not ready to connect the dots. In the next blink, the Phantom takes Scrooge to the bedroom, where the body of the dead man lies under a sheet, no blankets or curtains left on the bed. The corpse’s face is covered, and Scrooge both longs to and dreads peeking under the veil. Scrooge imagines that if this man was raised from the dead on the spot, the only things on his mind would be “avarice, hard-dealing, and griping cares.” 
Scrooge wants to know if anyone feels something because this man has died. “If there is any person in the town, who feels emotion caused by this man’s death … show that person to me, Spirit, I beseech you!” The Phantom takes Scrooge to a home where a man is arriving home to his wife and children. He shares that the yet-unnamed man has died - and the wife is immediately thankful, and then asks forgiveness for her gut reaction. Apparently, they owed this man a debt, and he had refused to give an extension. Now, even though their debt will go to a new creditor, they doubt anyone can be as merciless as this now-dead man was. Dickens tells us that this house “was a happier house for this man’s death.” 
So Scrooge says to the Phantom, “Let me see some tenderness connected with a death or that dark chamber, Spirit, which we left just now, will be for ever present to me.” (emphasis mine) And now Scrooge finds himself again at the home of the Bob Cratchit. It is very, very quiet in the once noisy home. From somewhere, Scrooge hears a voice, words we know from the gospels: “‘And He took a child, and set him in the midst of them.” Scrooge can’t place the words though. Bob arrives home - he’s just come from visiting the burial site for Tiny Tim, who has just died. He and his family are grieving, but strong. Bob relays that he ran into Mr. Scrooge’s nephew Fred, who was full of kind words for Bob and his family in their grieving. The family vows not to forget Tim, and they find joy and peace in supporting each other, even in their pain. Bob says, “I know, my dears, that when we recollect how patient and how mild he was; although he was a little, little child; we shall not quarrel easily among ourselves, and forget poor Tiny Tim in doing it.” 
Seeing this all unfold, Scrooge finally finds the courage to ask the Phantom: “Tell me what man that was whom we saw lying dead?” He’s ready to face what he perhaps suspects. So the Phantom takes Scrooge to the church yard, where at last the truth is revealed. The Phantom points to a grave. Before Scrooge will look at whose it is he asks, “Are these the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of things that May be, only?” The Phantom stays silent, and Scrooge continues, ““Men’s courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead,” said Scrooge. “But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me!” Still, the Spirit is silent. At last, Scrooge sees his own name on a neglected grave: Ebenezer Scrooge. Scrooge falls to his knees, pleading. ““Spirit!” he cried, tight clutching at its robe, “hear me! I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this intercourse. Why show me this, if I am past all hope! Assure me that I yet may change these shadows you have shown me, by an altered life!” The pointing hand of the Phantom seems to pause and tremble. Scrooge makes a final declaration: “I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!” And with that, the Spirit vanishes. When Scrooge awakens, he’s full of joy to learn he hasn’t missed Christmas - and more importantly, he hasn’t missed a chance to make changes in his life. He can do as he said, and keep the Spirits of the three Ghosts with him, keep their lessons with him. But we’ll talk more about the end of Scrooge’s journey in a couple days!
I’m struck by the question Scrooge asks of the Phantom, and the conclusions he draws. “Are these the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of things that May be, only?” Scrooge asks. And he concludes: “[Our] courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead. But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change.” In other words, Scrooge realizes that he’s seeing what could happen, what will happen if no changes take place in his life. But it isn’t what must happen. The future could still be different. What do you think the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come would show you if you changed nothing about your life right now? 
The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come is like a biblical prophet. Biblical prophets weren’t fortune tellers, but they told people what the future would be like if they continued on the present path. “If you don’t change your course, this is the outcome.” “If you don’t start studying, you will fail the class.” “If you don’t take your medication, the disease will spiral out of control.” “If you don’t stop worshiping other gods, you will feel cut off from God’s love and care.” “If you don’t put God first in your life, you will feel an emptiness that your other priorities can’t fill.” That’s what the Phantom is doing for Scrooge: “If you don’t repent and treat people with care, Scrooge, you will be alone and unmourned when you die.” What is the message from the Ghost to you and me? 
Today we read part of Paul’s letter to the Romans. Paul’s letter to the church in Rome is his most deeply developed theology. It is his most complicated letter, rich in wisdom, and chapter 8 in itself is full of inspiring words. In the section we’re looking at, Paul is talking about hope. And he says, “The whole creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God.” The whole creation is waiting for redemption. Paul says that things are hard now - there is suffering. Sin and death have a hold on us, and the creation suffers and groans right along with humanity. But, Paul says, the groaning we do, the groaning of creation, is like labor pains. It isn’t futile groaning. It is groaning with a purpose, groaning that leads to new life, the groaning of laboring that results in birth. (1) There’s hope in the midst of the groaning, because the promise of new life with God lies before us.
Even as Paul uses language of new birth, he also uses language of adoption. We’re in the process of being adopted by God, he says. We’re awaiting the completion of our adoption - our redemption. And when we’re adopted, that means life for us and freedom for the whole creation. And while we’re waiting, we’re called to live faithfully, patiently, expectantly, and called to be full of hope. (2) We’re at once God’s children already, and being born anew, and being adopted. We’re both saved by God’s grace already, and being saved, as we embrace God’s love. We’re both redeemed already in Christ, and being redeemed as we learn to live in Christ. 
Is the future full of hope? Paul answers a resounding “Yes!” He says, “We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.” For me, that is the best news of hope. I love God, and God is good - so the future God hopes for me - it’s also good. “What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us?” Paul asks. And we can answer, “No one that should make us worry, not when God is with us.” (Rawle)  
It takes Scrooge a while before he can face himself. Before he can face the words on the tombstone, face the truth of his life so far, face the truth of the path he’s on. Sometimes we have a hard time facing ourselves, too, and when we can’t face ourselves, we start to feel pretty hopeless about our future, worrying it is too late for us, too late to fix what we’ve messed up beyond repair. But Scrooge realizes it isn’t too late. He can’t change his past. But he has every intention of changing the present, hopeful for a changed future too. I hope we come to the same realization. Let us claim our hopeful future with God, by welcoming God into our hearts and lives in the present, committing to God’s path today. 
Our futures are full of hope, because if God is for us - and God is SO for us! - who can be against us? Our future is full of hope, because God is working all things together for good, even when we’ve been less than careful with what and who God has entrusted to us. Our future is full of hope because God is with us, the promise we celebrate in Advent. Our future might be unknown to us. But we are known to God, and so our futures are full of hope. Thanks be to God. Amen. 

  1. Johnson, Elizabeth, “Romans 8:22-27 Commentary,” The Working Preacher, https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=319
  2. West, Audrey, “Romans 8:22-27 Commentary,” The Working Preacher, https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=1306




Tuesday, November 28, 2017

Sermon for the First Sunday in Advent, "Hope: A Thrill of Hope," Mark 1:1-8

Sermon 11/26/17
Mark 1:1-8

Hope: A Thrill of Hope


            Are you a pessimist or an optimist? Is the glass of life half empty, or half full? My mom and I have gone back and forth about this a bit over the years. She’s wildly optimistic about most things, and sometimes I would say her optimism, her hopefulness borders on the irrational. If the weather forecast says there’s a 70% chance of a snowstorm coming, my mom will focus very seriously on that 30% chance that it is going to be a nice day after all. I, meanwhile, will begin adjusting my travel plans and making a backup plan for the day. My mom says I’m a pessimist, but I would argue that I’m simply a realist, trying to prepare for the thing that is most likely to happen, whether I like that thing or not. My mom, however, says she doesn’t want to be disappointed twice, both by thinking something bad is going to happen, and then by having the bad thing actually happen. She’d rather be hopeful, and enjoy her state of hopefulness, even if it doesn’t work out that way later on. How about you? Pessimist? Optimist? Realist? Are you a hopeful person?
            Each week, our themes in worship – hope, peace, joy, and love – will be matched with a familiar snippet of a Christmas carol. This is lucky for you all, since I tend to be a stickler about singing Advent carols during Advent and Christmas carols when it is finally Christmas. But this year, we’re mixing it up a little, and using the familiar carols, along with the moving, more somber hymns of longing for Advent, to help us prepare for the season. This week, we’re thinking about hope, and what it means to be hopeful in this season of Advent, and our song snippet is “A Thrill of Hope,” taken from the classic “O Holy Night.” “O Holy Night” was written in 1843. In the town of Roquemaure in France, the church organ had recently been renovated, and the priest asked a local writer, Placide Cappeau, to write a Christmas poem. He wrote what we know as O Holy Night – “Cantique de Noël” (Song of Christmas) in French – and composer Adolphe Adam wrote the familiar lilting music. A few short years later, Unitarian minister John Sullivan Dwight wrote the English version of the text, much more a paraphrase than a translation.[1]
            But the phrase “thrill of hope” appears relatively unchanged in both French and English. In our familiar version we hear, “Long lay the world in sin and error pining, till he appear’d and the soul felt its worth. A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.” The text tells us that the world was waiting, longing, pining for something, as it sat mired in sin and error. Perhaps you can relate to that feeling – when you know that your life is off track, when you know you’re going the wrong direction, when you know that you aren’t living either as you or as God wants you to live, when you know that life seems unfulfilling – you don’t relish staying where you are. You are longing, hoping, pining for some way to get out of the pit. This is the state of the whole world, waiting on God-in-the-flesh in Jesus Christ. And then – a thrill of hope. We’re weary, but rejoicing: morning is breaking, and light is canceling out the darkness. Advent is a season of hope. But I believe we’re called to something more than a passive  hope, something more than a vague feeling, as we sit at the bottom of that pit, that something better might come along eventually. So what kind of hope are we meant to cultivate in this season?
            Let’s look at our gospel text for today. Mark’s gospel sometimes seems like a surprising place to start when we’re beginning Advent. After all, we know that at Christmas, we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, but when Mark begins, he skips any mention of how Jesus is born, and jumps straight to Jesus as a thirty-year old, embarking on the beginning of his ministry. Matthew and Luke are the gospels that treat us to the stories of angels and shepherds and Wise Men and mangers that we love, and even John’s gospel, with its image of a light in the darkness feels appropriately like a Christmas story. But Mark gives us nothing more than this at the start of his gospel: “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” Boom. And he’s off and running.
            But I love it. I love Mark’s gospel. He is so intent on making sure you know about Jesus and the good news Jesus brings that he can’t slow down long enough to give us more than what he considers the essentials. And Mark isn’t so much concerned with how Jesus was born as he is with the fact that Jesus is here, and we need to be ready, and we might want to do some self-reflection and some changing of our lives, changing our heart and minds because of Jesus’s presence.
            So, as Mark opens his gospel, he centers us in words from Isaiah: God is sending a messenger who will prepare the way for the messiah, the voice of one who crying out in the wilderness, calling us to “Prepare the way of the Lord” and “Make straight” a path for God in the world. These may not be nativity words, but they are definitely Advent words. Prepare. Get ready. Someone is coming and we need to get ready.
            John the Baptizer appears in the wilderness, calling people to repent, so that their sins might be forgiven. To repent means to change the direction of your life, to change the direction of your heart and mind, to get off the wrong-way road you were traveling on, and turn back to God. John tells people to do this – to repent – and they do. Mark says that people “from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem” were coming to John, confessing their sins. John tells them: someone else is coming, and I’m just his servant. I’ve baptized you, cleansed you with water. He will cleanse you by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
            John the Baptizer tells the people to get ready, help is on the way, and the people respond by getting to work at once, so that they are ready for this arrival of this hopeful good news that is coming. They’re repenting. Confessing. Being cleansed in baptismal waters. When Jesus arrives, they want to be ready for what is next, ready to live into the hope that John has given them.
            How about you? Are you a hopeful person? What are you hoping for this season? How are you longing, pining for God to be at work in your life right now? And what are you doing because of that hope? Mark describes a whole people filled with expectation about this one that John was describing to them, but they didn’t just listen to John’s words and sit passively, waiting for Jesus to show up. They were filled with hope, and so they got busy. They were filled with hope, and so they started repenting now, not waiting for Jesus to arrive. They were hopeful, and so they let John cleanse their spirits as they confessed their sins, so that they would be ready to do whatever Jesus wanted them to do. They were full of hope, and their hope led them to act, because they had faith that their hope in God would not disappoint them.
            I think how we hope is important. Sometimes we know why we’re hopeful, but we don’t let that hope spur us into action. Deep hope, built on faith and trust in God, is an active longing that starts working right away to embody and enact the very things for which we are hopeful. This summer I read a book called Becoming the Answer to Our Prayers: Prayer for Ordinary Radicals by Shane Claiborne and Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove. In it, they write, “The longer we pray, the more we are sure of this: Prayer is not so much about convincing God to do what we want God to do as it is about convincing ourselves to do what God wants us to do.[2] That’s sort of how I think about hope: we hope for the possibility of God’s work in the world, and then we get to work as God’s laborers in the world, trusting that God will do what God promises, and getting started on our part as soon as possible.
            So, as we begin this Advent season, what are you hoping for, when you think about God coming to us in-the-flesh? What is your Advent hope, and what are you going to do about it? Claiborne and Wilson-Hartgrove write: “Often when Christians talk about “eternal life,” we mean life after death. That’s not all bad. We’re both pretty excited about life after death (though neither one of us is in any rush to get there). But we’ve been asking together with our communities whether there is life before death. What we’re really looking for in our life together and in the church is what [1 Timothy] calls the “life that is truly life” … We have to stop promising people life after death when what we are all really asking is if there is life before death. And the good news is – there is. Eternal life begins now. It is living in the presence of God.”[3] “What really excites us is the way our God stirs up the ruins, always eager to give new life. The world will not believe that the gospel is true because we struggle hard enough to save a sinking ship. The world will believe when we practice resurrection where we are because we know the joy of new life.”[4]
            This Advent, I’m hopeful – even if I still expect snow when the forecast tells me it is likely! I’m hopeful that Christ is continually born into our midst, continually reminding us that God is with us. I’m hopeful enough that I want to prepare my life, my heart again. Hopeful enough that I want to make sure that I’m going in God’s direction, not the wrong direction. And hopeful enough that instead of waiting passively, I’m going to wait actively, working to carry out the good news right now, because my hope is built on faith in God’s promises, which never disappoint us. We’re waiting, yes. But with a thrill of hope in our hearts, let’s get to work while we wait. Amen.





[1] All notes on the song “O Holy Night” are from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/O_Holy_Night.
[2] Claiborne, Shane and Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, Becoming the Answer to Our Prayers: Prayer for Ordinary Radicals, 11.
[3] Ibid., 71, emphasis added.
[4] Ibid., 88. 

Sermon for the First Sunday of Advent, Year C, "Raise Your Heads," Luke 21:25-36

Sermon 12/1/2024 Luke 21:25-36 Raise Your Heads Last Sunday, I was guest preaching at a church in New Jersey, and my text was one of the c...