Advent I

I preached this sermon at St. Paul's Cathedral in Buffalo, NY for Advent I, 2011:


In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

This morning, if you were not already tuned into it, you likely noticed the changes in the Cathedral: the appearance of the Advent wreath, and the switch to blue vestments. But, if you still haven’t figured it out, I’ll clue you in: today is the first day of the season of Advent, those weeks of preparation before Christmas.
And today in particular is a special beginning. This first Sunday in Advent marks the beginning of another church year. For church geeks all around the world, today is New Year’s Day. Most of us, though, probably did not celebrate last night as the church’s new year’s eve in the same way we celebrate on Dec 31. We didn’t have a countdown, or raise flutes of champagne, there were no Auld Lang Synes for the passing of another church year. The closest some of us may have come was attending the world’s largest disco last night at the convention center.
And even though we didn’t mark this new year with great fanfare like we do for the secular calendar, we still shouldn’t miss the opportunity to consider why Advent is the beginning of the new year. Why isn’t Christmas the first day of the church year? Christmas marks the entrance of God into human life in a dramatic and unique way, opening a new chapter in our history. Why is the first Sunday in Advent so special?
The entire season of Advent, beginning this morning, is a time of preparation and of expectation. We are given four weeks to reflect on the entire period of time spanning from the first moments of Creation to the birth of Christ in Bethlehem on Christmas morning. Literally billions of years are crammed into these four weeks. We heard today in Isaiah that the heavens are torn open by God’s entrance, that the mountains quake at his approach. We heard that all of the universe, our fragile earth, and the lands and seas it contains are the very handiwork of our God. We heard in the psalm that God was the shepherd of his people, the one to whom Israel looked for sustenance and restoration. After God fashioned humankind into his likeness and called Israel into a covenant, we hear of his faithfulness and love for them. These four weeks will be a crash course, a very quick summary of the entirety of human history leading up to the eruption of God into the world in a manger in Bethlehem. During these four weeks, we will wait with expectation, wait with longing alongside the nation of Israel, as we pray with them that the Messiah might be sent to us, that a redeemer might be given to us, that our crying out for God might be heard and answered. During Advent, we sojourn with all of humankind as we wait for the appearance of God wrapped in flesh, first given to us on Christmas morning.
That longing that Israel felt as it awaited its savior is the longing of billions of souls who have turned to their God for redemption, for being made complete and whole. The first epistle to the Corinthians this morning referred to this longing when it described how God has enriched us, how God calls us into fellowship with him. That longing is the tugging on human hearts down the long march of our common history, as we have sought our God in silent whispered prayer, as we have sought our completion that can only be obtained by entering into relationship with the God who created us out of love. Advent unites us to countless generations who walked the pilgrim path of longing, of searching for God’s embrace to surround them more completely.
Our longing for God to make us whole, to make us more completely ourselves, has been written of by our prophets, by our poets, by our musicians and by our mystics. That longing has been described by innumerable lips, incalculable words, and limitless prayers.
That longing has been the soundtrack in each generation in new and unique ways that speak to the pattern and experience of each society. Throughout history, different people have spoken of this longing in the language of their own cultures. For example, the prophet Isaiah wrote of this longing with the words of the famous Advent hymn Rorate Caeli, Drop down, ye heavens from above and let the skies pour down righteousness. St Augustine told us that our hearts are restless until they rest in God. Julian of Norwich described this longing: Our natural will is to have God, and the good will of God is to have us, and we may never cease willing or longing for God until we have him in the fullness of joy. Christ will never have his full bliss in us until we have our full bliss in him. Teresa of Avila in her book on spiritual growth wrote The feeling remains that God is on my journey, too. A few years ago, Fr. Ethan Cole told the Cathedral 20s30s of a God-shaped hole in our hearts that no beer could fill.
In all times and places, women and men have sought through their own personal Advents, to cleave more closely to the God who called them into love. The changes and journeys in individual hearts match the changes and journeys of the nation of Israel as it struggled to understand its covenant, and as it lived for the coming of the promised Messiah. These four weeks of Advent are a gift given to us. This gift is time: time to reflect on our own longing for wholeness offered by Christ’s presence in our lives, time to reflect on the need to offer Christ as healing and wholeness to those around us, time to name the God-shaped hole in our own hearts, and begin honestly to ask the Messiah to come and make his home there.

This morning’s collect bid God to

give us grace to cast away the works of
darkness, and put on the armor of light, now in the time of
this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit
us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come
again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the
dead, we may rise to the life immortal

give us grace that we may cast away the 
works of darkness, and put upon us the armor of light, now 
in the time of this mortal life in which thy Son Jesus Christ 
came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when 
he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the 
quick and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal

Advent is the gift of time that is extended to us to cast away the works of darkness lingering in our souls. Christ, the great light of the world, is coming as the breaking dawn. Light strengthens, warms, and renews. Light also shows us things that had been hidden, maybe even some things that we wish would remain hidden. Christ, as the perfect light, shines perfectly, and nothing is hidden. In Advent, we are to cast away our works of darkness, through the grace and strength that God gives us to do so, so that we can be prepared for Christ to complete us, to fulfill our longing, and to make us more entirely ourselves.
The wonderful call to wholeness and fulfillment is not given to us as private treasure. It is a public invitation. Christ did not spring on the world alone, solitary, entirely of his own power. Christ came to us on Christmas morning through the love and service of Mary of Nazareth, his mother. The willingness of one young woman to accept the call to wholeness, to allow God’s grace to fulfill her waiting for the Messiah, brought not only her own personal longing and Advent to a close, but brought to a close the longing and Advent of the whole nation of Israel, the longing and Advent of the entire human race, the longing and Advent of all of creation. Mary’s single yes when asked to bear the Messiah was the model for the yes we should give.
The Messiah is given to us to make us complete, to fill the God-shaped holes in our hearts, but we are not asked to keep Christ to ourselves. We are asked, like Mary of Nazareth, to be Godbearers, and to carry the promised Messiah to those who are still awaiting him, those who long for him, those who may not even yet know that their hearts will remain restless until they rest in Christ.
The world is not going to know Christ unless I bring Christ to the world. Unless you bring Christ to the world. Wholeness, healing, fulfillment, completion in our very souls and beings will not be offered to our friends and neighbors, to strangers and enemies until we cooperate in bearing that wholeness, in bearing the Christ to those who wait in their own longing and Advent.
Most of us work and move in secular environments, so it is not often that we speak the name of Jesus to those around us. I’m an epidemiologist, and spend much more of my day talking about colonoscopies than I do talking about Christ. Most of us make small talk about how nice the weather has been, we may politely avoid talking about the Sabres or the Bills especially this year; we ask how our coworkers’ weekends were, and tell people about how ours were filled with errands and making Christmas cookies. But how often do we tell our neighbors and coworkers that we went to church, that we heard the good news of our redemption? How many of us even tell our spouse about how God is churning in our own hearts, calling us to perfection and union with him? How often do we even say the name of Jesus aloud?
So, here’s this week’s homework: sometime in the next seven days, think about your own personal spiritual Advent, and how you long for wholeness, peace, and completion. Think about how Christ is calling you to love him more, and calling you to bear him to others. And then, in this coming week, with your actions and kindness to others, bear the Christ to those around you through charity, works of mercy and love, patience, and forgiveness. If you feel particularly daring, invite someone to church next week. If you want extra credit, speak the name of Jesus to another person. And don’t worry, I will come up with different homework for the Dean, since she has an unfair advantage in the opportunities she’s given by her work.
And for your own sake, take the time this week to name your longing, to sit with it, to accept it, and to pray for the grace and patience to accept Christ into your heart, to more completely fill the God-shaped hole. Take the time to name your Advent, to pray that God will make this a fruitful Advent that you will grow in love, and bring others to grow in love. Advent is a gift that God gives to us, a gift of time. Accept it gratefully, use it wisely, and enter into it honestly and with love. Use this Advent to prepare for the birth of Christ in your heart, and, like Mary, bear Christ out into our world, a world of longing and disquiet that is so in need of the tender love of our God. Amen.