Great Expectations: Sermon for Advent 3A

The Christian liturgical calendar has two seasons of preparation: Advent and Lent. In the early Church, Advent was actually longer—from St. Martin’s Day through Christmas Eve, and it was known as “Little Lent.” The lessons in both Advent and Lent are centered around self-examination and repentance. But after two weeks of apocalyptic visions, this third Sunday in Advent brings us something different: Joy.

The great systematic theologian Karl Barth noted, “Joy is the simplest form of gratitude.” It may be simple, but it is not easy without mindfulness. Let’s face it: we are not hard-wired for joy. We are hard-wired in our animal brains for fear, especially the fear of scarcity—and scarcity and gratitude do not coexist with each other. We have to make a conscious effort to reset our expectations in order to get to joy rather than anxiety. We have to reset our lens to look at what we have, and the way those around us enrich our lives rather than see what we don’t have, and see others as competition for scarce resources. Yet we are also made in the image of God, and God’s beloveds. That’s why “don’t be afraid,” is repeated over 365 times in scripture. One for each day of the year.

The readings we hear this Sunday are all about defying expectations. The vision Isaiah gives us this week shows a desert blooming, the weak being strengthened, the disabled made whole, waters gushing forth in the driest of places. It’s the same vision of healing and restoration that Jesus uses to define and describe his ministry in our gospel: “the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.”

And where does Jesus get the inspiration of this vision of abundance where there was need? From his own mother, whose Magnificat describes Jesus’s ministry even before his birth in the same way: the lowly, including Mary, lifted up, the proud and conceited humbled, the downtrodden lifted up, the hungry filled. The Magnificat begins and ends with identifying God with mercy. Mary’s vision and Jesus’s vision align, and that’s no accident. It’s a reminder of what the gospel really means and what it tells us about living into God’s generous vision for us.

Joy begets gratitude. Gratitude begets generosity. So why are these three things so hard to find in our own lives and in the culture that surrounds us? Perhaps it has to do with our expectations.

One of my favorite shows in the last couple of years has been Ted Lasso. It’s the story of an American college football coach hired to coach an underachieving English soccer club, even though he knows nothing about the game of soccer—not even the rules about offsides. The fans of the team are rabid and also cynical, having seen defeat snatched out of the jaws of victory too many times. Ted’s greatest feature as a coach is his relentless optimism. He inspires his players to believe in themselves, to have faith in themselves as a team. This sunny outlook clashes with the culture of world-weariness of the team organization and the fan base. When Ted urges the fans to keep the faith and have hope, her gets rebuffed repeatedly with the phrase, “It’s the hope that kills you.”

That’s the thing about low expectations. They become prophecy, because they suck the life out of you.

We can almost hear that same world-weariness in the tone of John the Baptist in our gospel today. Sitting in his prison cell, where he has been placed due to his stirring up the discontent of the masses against the most powerful people of his day, he had been preaching the coming of a fire-wielding, butt kicking Messiah, as we heard in last week’s gospel. He had expected the Messiah to join him in militancy.

Last week we saw John proclaiming the coming of the Lord. So much anticipation was imbedded in that gospel, which is of course so perfect for Advent. When indeed Jesus did appear, Jesus was not exactly what John had been expecting.

Isn’t that so often the case? We dream about something wonderful happening in our lives, and then reality ends up being still so random. Not worse, but different than our expectations. John had been expecting Messiah to be obvious to him. He expected Messiah to establish a certain way of justice that would reorder society the way John thought it should be.

And that’s not what he got. Instead, like Charlie Brown trick-or-treating and only getting rocks, in Matthew 4:12, John was arrested. The prophet rots in jail for seven chapters, and now, in chapter 11, he is forced to send some of his followers to attempt to ascertain whether Jesus is indeed the Messiah.

Sitting in his jail cell, John has doubts. To find the source of his disquiet, simply look at his words of prophecy. He has been foretelling doom, and judgment, and punishment. This is not the Messiah John has been expecting. John was expecting someone who would emphasize repentance more, even though Jesus certainly did plenty of that.
John was expecting vengeance!
John was expecting a leader who would be a strong man.
John was expecting some retribution at broods of vipers!

Many people, even today, especially today, expect to see that kind of God and that kind of leadership operating in the world right now. The problem with having a leader or God who is a “strong man” is that the only way he becomes a “strong man” is by taking away agency from everyone else and gathering all the power to himself and maybe his buddies. When Jesus instead focuses on healing the sick, feeding the hungry, and caring for widows John feels like he has been hoodwinked.

John has not gotten the Messiah he wanted or expected. And yet, here is his cousin, Jesus, and he is NOT some warrior king. He is not about restoring the former glory of Israel by having it rise to new military or political or economic power.

What Jesus IS about is moving among those who have been outcast. This God, we see, emphasizes mercy over retribution, in contrast to the God that many people today still seem to expect—a God of retribution and smiting, a sender of earthquakes and famines to punish millions. This God assures us that we are enough—good enough and strong enough to do an amazing thing: change the world by living as disciples and followers of Jesus.

Jesus reminds us that his ministry will surprise us. And since we are called to follow in his path, it will also lead us in ways we did not expect. It will heal us in ways we may not even think we deserve—but that’s the forces of evil whispering in our ear. “Blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me” Jesus says. Blessed are those who embrace and follow Jesus for who Jesus is, radical enough for the best of us, instead of trying to make Jesus fit their preconceived notions of who Messiah will be.

We too live in a culture of scarcity, a culture that celebrates the lowest common denominator, a culture that is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder with war, climate challenges, and the inability to treat those with whom we disagree not as kindred but as enemies. We are ruled by fear of not being good enough.

We have been convinced that there is not enough, even as this planet just recently welcomed its 8 billionth inhabitant. Take a step back and look at what a scarcity mentality does to us. It has been scientifically proven that living in the fear of scarcity causes us to be unable to care about the future—we cast away planning for tomorrow, even when the investment is small and the reward great when we are in the grip of a scarcity mindset. Scarcity actually bathes our minds in failure, weakening us and immobilizing us, robbing us of any feeling of agency. Scarcity whispers “there’s nothing you can do,” and makes sure that you are robbed of the will to change. Scarcity robs us of having great expectations of ourselves and our power to make a difference.(1)

There is also a scarcity of decency, compassion, and humanity running about among us. We are surrounded by forces of division who gain power by mocking, spitting upon, and demonizing those who are different. We are plunged into feelings of helplessness that leads us to disengage, to believe we have no power to change obvious wrongs, to believe that our voice does not matter. We are told that we are never enough, and that there isn’t enough to go around—and we are often told that by the very people who have hoarded more than they will ever need or be able to use—and they use their excess to keep the rest of us scampering after crumbs and attacking each other.(2)

That was very much the same world Jesus and Mary and John lived in, too. Jesus’s religious opponents controlled people by shame, and the Romans controlled people by brutality and contempt—three byproducts of the scarcity mindset. Yet if you look at how Jesus and Mary define how to conquer the scarcity mindset, they do not propose exchanging one oppressor for another. They describe a vision like Isaiah describes: one in which beauty grows where there was desolation, where there is no longer one group lording it over another, but instead, where all have ENOUGH. And the way we do that is to turn from competing with each other and seeing each other as competitors in a death match of scarcity, and instead see each other as resources.

What if we reset our expectations to quiet the screaming monkey mind drumming between our ears, and instead opened our eyes to see that there is enough? Enough and more to spare! What if we invested in each other—in fulfillment of our baptismal promise to celebrate and give thanks for the potential and worth of every person? We don’t need big flashy miracles. Joining together and making sure each other had enough would be an abundant miracle, in and of itself. And that’s the kind of transformative ministry Jesus practiced among those he encountered. It’s what we are called to do as disciples.

“God is at work in the world, healing the broken paces and inviting us to see it. Live with joy!” both Mary and Jesus urge us. Open your eyes to see the wonders of God all around you, the gifts from God poured abundantly into your life with every breath that you take! The way of faith is the way of joy and gratitude, a life we can only receive once we cast away the soul-killing “certainty” that there will never be enough. It is that certainty that keeps the world at each others’ throats— rather than living by the kingdom values this season of preparation calls us to embrace for our flourishing. It’s there already. Jesus and Mary invite us to embrace abundance, to embrace faithful living, to embrace joy.

This coming week, I invite you to dedicate some time each morning and each evening specifically cultivating a spirit of joy, a spirit of expectation, a spirit of gratitude. I invite you to live in AWE: abundance, wonder, and empowerment. That’s how to live into the joy of great expectations, of gratitude for not only what we have but what we can build with each other.

Preached at the 505 on December 10 and the 10:30 am Holy Eucharist on December 11 at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville, MO.

Readings:

Isaiah 35:1-10

Psalm 146:4-9

James 5:7-10

Matthew 11:2-11

Citations:

(1) See this article from the American Psychological Association: https://www.apa.org/monitor/2014/02/scarcity; 

(2) See Brene Brown, Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead, 27-29 (kindle edition).

The Gift of Interdependence: Sermon for All Saints/All Souls' Day, Year C

There are certain parts of scripture that are beautiful poetry and resonant truth, passages that burrow their way into the wider culture, like the first verse of Genesis, or the Ten Commandments, or the 23rd Psalm. These are often familiar to people even if they don’t consider themselves religious.

One of the things that makes scripture enduring even beyond people who identify as followers is the universal truths they contain. Our gospel today contains one of them: the golden rule. Which we heard right there at the end of the gospel: treat others as you want to be treated. It shows up in every religion on earth, from Hinduism to Buddhism to Judaism, Islam, and Christianity. It’s so simple—and yet so important. Can you imagine what the world would be like if we all really followed just that one little commandment?

Some of these universal truths in scripture even make it into popular culture, especially music. For instance, back in the 1980s, there was this new band called U2, three of whom were Irish Anglicans, who burst onto MTV with their first US hit-- a driving rocker called “Gloria.” This one was not the song the St. Louis hockey fans sing to bring good luck—it was about Glory to God. I know! Being sung on MTV.

Then a but later there was a new wave band called Mr. Mister that even had a hit based on a poppy, upbeat take-off of the Kyrie Eleison, or Gloria, that is right there in our prayerbooks on p. 361. Unbelievable, right?

When I was in college, I had a poster in my dorm room of Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, written in calligraphy. It goes like this:
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to reap;
a time to kill, and a time to heal,
a time to break down, and a time to build up…
and so on.

This was more old school—it had been turned into a folk song called “Turn! Turn! Turn!” in the 1950s by Pete Seeger, the coolest banjo-playing grandpa ever, and later covered by the Byrds in the 1960s. Years later, my own kids heard it in the soundtrack of the movie Forrest Gump.

This passage was comforting to me because it pointed out that there is balance in life: for every time to be born, there is a time to die, for every time to plant, there is a tie to harvest and then clear the fields for the next year, for every time of killing there is also a time of healing, and so on.

The gospel we hear today from Luke is one of those kinds of passages that can almost be that familiar. We just heard Luke’s version of “The Beatitudes.” The name comes from the first two words of each of these sayings in Latin, beati sunt, which means “Blessed are.” In the original language that Jesus spoke, however, they are in the same pattern as the very first verse of the Book of Psalms, which in some translations starts “Happy is the one who does not walk in the counsel of the ungodly.” The word for “blessed” and the word for “happy” is the same word.

So, if you had never actually read this passage, you might think that the Beatitudes are about happiness, right? About being blessed by God.

Not so fast.

While the specific things that are listed that makes one blessed are certainly counterintuitive. Note the conditions that Jesus says makes someone blessed: being poor, being hungry, weeping, being hated and treated hatefully on account of your faith, as we just heard.

Who here thinks any of those things, on the surface, sound like happiness?

Most of us would argue quite easily that being poor, or hungry, or sad, or the object of hate would be the exact opposite of being a condition of blessedness. Being in those categories sounds more to most of us like curses. No one want to be poor, or sad, or treated hatefully—not if they can help it, any way. And maybe you notice that, as in the passage I mentioned from Ecclesiastes, Luke provides us with some balance. Luke then follows the four blessings with four warnings for those who have the means to help others, yet turn away. To those who see the blessing of responsibility as a threat and a curse.

Jesus holds up those who are oppressed by poverty, sorrow, or oppression as having good things awaiting them, and he warns those who are in more favorable circumstances to use remember the mutuality and interconnection that binds the community together. The Beatitudes remind us that we have responsibilities to each other, and that those responsibilities are actually blessings.

November is Native American Heritage Month. Each day this month the diocese will be sharing daily posts celebrating and honoring Native culture, Native people, and Native history. The 505 will feature Native prayers and translations of scripture from across the Episcopal Church. While there is more than a little bit of irony that the month chosen to highlight Native American achievements would also be the month that contains Thanksgiving, there is also a certain harmony in that too, given the importance of gratitude and mutuality in Native ethics especially regarding the importance of community for the flourishing of life. Today is also the day we officially launch our annual giving campaign, which also focuses on the importance of gratitude for the gifts we have been given and strengthening our parish community for the flourishing of our shared life of faithfulness, fellowship, and service. And all these things are woven into our living out the Beatitudes in our lives, in striving to be saints of God.

In her book Braiding Sweetgrass, biologist, professor and member of the Citizen Pottawatomie Nation Robin Wall Kimmerer explains the connection between thankfulness and the strengthening of community:

Cultures of gratitude must also be cultures of reciprocity. Each person, human or no, is bound to every other in a reciprocal relationship. Just as all beings have a duty to me, I have a duty to them. If an animal gives its life to feed me, I am in turn bound to support its life. If I receive a stream’s gift of pure water, then I am responsible for returning a gift in kind. An integral part of a human’s education is to know those duties and how to perform them.... [D]uties and gifts are two sides of the same coin. Eagles were given the gift of far sight, so it is their duty to watch over us. Rain fulfills its duty as it falls, because it was given the gift of sustaining life. What is the duty of humans? If gifts and responsibilities are one, then asking “What is our responsibility?” is the same as asking “What is our gift?” (Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass, 115)

How life -changing would it be to think of our responsibilities as gifts? I remember how proud I was when I was growing up when I became old enough to be trusted to operate a lawn mower, or to babysit. Can you remember when a newborn baby or puppy or kitten was first placed in your arms? You KNEW that responsibility was a gift—how we embraced it and knew it for the privilege that was! Native wisdom aligns with Jesus’s teaching on the Beatitudes to insist that our special gift from God as humans made in God’s image is to embrace responsibility, service, and empathy rather than avoid them. To see the web of generosity that supports us, and to joyfully embrace our place as part of that web.

That is also the heart of stewardship. Our budget is about balance, too. Balance between our obligations and paying them yes. Balance between our expenses and our income. Balance between when we get from this community and how we support it to help it grow and witness. This too is a sacred balance. It is a balance that gives life, rather than takes. This responsibility, too is a GIFT.

A commitment to live lives of outstanding gratitude and generosity is woven into scripture—and into the lives of the saints we also celebrate today. They lived lives of abundant faithfulness and generosity—and if we don’t mean to be one too, as the song goes, then what are we doing here?

Too often our culture is predicated upon scarcity, and over and over again we hear a drumbeat warning us that we don’t have enough. That idea of scarcity makes everyone else a competitor in a mad scramble for power and wealth. But it is this simple: scarcity breeds fear, and fear strangles faith.

Let me say it again: Scarcity breeds fear, and fear strangles faith. And that is the reason why there are 366 reminders throughout scripture not to be afraid—one for every day of the year, and then another just because, in case we need it. Scarcity lures us to break the bonds of fellowship and deny the truth of our interdependence upon each other, upon this earth, upon God.

The culture of the Beatitudes is the culture of the Saints we celebrate today. As a matter of fact, the word for saint is right in there. “Beati”—is the beginning of the word “beatify” which means to recognize someone as a saint. And the entire point of this day is to remember that saints are NOT born, they are made.

Jesus isn’t trying to scare anyone into submission, ever. But Jesus does remind us to use the gifts we have been given for something greater than ourselves—for each other, and for the world. The Beatitudes encompass the greatest lesson in the lives of the saints, and that lesson is this: no matter what we have or don’t have, whether wealthy or poor, whether sinner or saint, we cannot depend upon our own resources to be blessed. It doesn’t work that way. The key to being truly blessed is to truly be a blessing—to acknowledge our reliance upon God, no matter what our situation. Happiness begins with acknowledging that God’s grace and mercy are not only necessary, but also real and present in our lives.

As for us, sitting here, as we remember saints of God, we remember people who, in ways small and great, were willing to be cursed, to go against the logic and the dominant culture around them, in order to testify to the God Jesus came to bring to flesh and bone before our eyes: the God who always takes interest in those who are humble in spirit, and yet filled with awe and wonder at the wonder of this God-infused creation of which we are a part. And saints are those who see with the eyes of Jesus the belovedness of everyone, regardless of any other condition.

Jesus calls us to discover within ourselves the same greatness of faithfulness and abundance that reflect God’s imprint in each of us. May we find blessing in the balance between responsibility and gratitude,  b between obligation and gift, for the flourishing of each other, and the wider world.

Preached at the 505 on November 5 and at the 10:30 am Holy Eucharist on November 6, 2022, at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville, MO.

Readings:

Daniel 7:1-3,15-18
Psalm 149
Ephesians 1:11-23
Luke 6:20-31

Citations:

Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants (Minneapolis: Milkweed Editions, 2013), p, 115.