Gracious God, in these final Advent days, may your Holy Spirit meet us in simple moments with hope, peace, and joy. And may we be filled anew in this moment with your love… love that heals, inspires, liberates, and shines forth into all creation, calling all into communion with you and one another. Amen.
______________________________________________________________________________________
Before Jesus was born, before John was born, and long before John would help prepare the way for Jesus’ ministry and baptize him in the Jordan River, Luke tells the story of their mothers (both pregnant and anticipating the birth of their children) who met together, rejoiced together, and dreamed about the future together.
Mary, young and unwed, had said yes to God’s surprising invitation, yes to the labor of love into which she was invited, and yes to an adventure of faith that would take her to unexpected and sometimes difficult places.
Elizabeth, considerably older than Mary, thought it was too late for her to have a child. But the angel Gabriel had visited her husband Zechariah in the temple, bringing them the surprising and joyful news that they would now bear a son.
Mary and Elizabeth, both preparing for and awaiting new birth, not only the birth of their children, but also the birth of God’s promised liberation – the renewal of the world, the arrival of life as it should be, the fulfillment of God’s vision of justice and dream of peace.
Each Advent we are invited to step into the stories of Elizabeth and Mary – to wait with them in hope; to embody their joyful spirits of wonder and awe; and to imagine what possibilities lay ahead.
We are invited to join with them in their labor of love and consider how God’s love is still being formed within us, birthed by us, and born anew into our lives and into our world.
And we are invited to join in singing Mary’s song of praise, hope, and proclamation of God’s unfolding work.
“Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed,” said Mary. For God has done great things and God’s mercy is for all generations.
Mary’s song echoes through the centuries, through to our generation. Her song is not stuck in the past. Instead, her song, her story, her faith in God’s love and faithfulness has become our own.
God “has shown strength.” God “has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.” God “has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly… filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.”
These are big claims! And Mary speaks as though these things have already happened. It’s an aspirational vision, to be sure. And we know that the ways of the world didn’t change overnight.
And Mary knew that too. She wasn’t wealthy or powerful (in the conventional sense). She had lived all of her young life as a peasant living under Roman occupation and surely experienced her share of uncertainty and need.
And yet, Mary sings with faith that God’s righting of the world had already begun, was already underway. Mary believed that God wanted something better for her, for all God’s people, and for all the world. Mary believed that God was on the move. And that she was part of that movement. So was Elizabeth. And, all these years later, so are we.
Mary invokes God’s promises to Abraham and his descendants. And she sees her story as evidence that God has remembered and honored that promise.
God’s labor of love had begun long ago. Now, God’s labor of love was being embodied by Mary. Soon, it would be embodied by Jesus. All of Jesus’ life and ministry would become a labor of love. And throughout his life, Jesus brought others along and invited them into this labor of love in their own lives. And now, these many generations later, this labor of love is ours.
The good news of Christmas is not only that Jesus was born to us so long ago, but that the presence of Christ, the presence of Emmanuel, is still with us, continuing to be born in our midst, still laboring with us, in us, and through us to birth more love into this world.
Each year, we light the Advent candles of hope, peace, joy, and love in order to remember that those are the touchstones in which we find the presence of Christ in our lives.
When we find hope… hope that persists even when it’s hard, even in challenging circumstances, we are reminded of Christ with us.
When we find peace… peace that is beyond our human understanding, when we engage in the work for lasting peace in the world (hard as that is in a world that too often prefers violence), we are reminded of Christ with us.
When we find joy… deep and durable joy that holds us steady (even in difficult moments), we are reminded of Christ with us.
When we find love… love that is stronger than hate, love that casts out fear, love that strengthens and inspires us and drives us to live and love more boldly and courageously, we are reminded of Christ with us.
Hope, peace, joy, and love. These are some of the durable gifts of Christmas. The gifts that last all year long. The gifts we can search for and find again, even when we’re feeling a bit depleted or empty.
I know that Christmas is a hard season for people sometimes. Holidays can bring up feelings of grief and loneliness for some. It can be a difficult time for those dealing with recovery and addiction. Time pressures, money pressures, and the pressure to provide meaningful and fun experiences for others stresses people out sometimes. Challenging family dynamics and relationships sometimes take center stage. And the desire to just rest and enjoy the season in simple ways can get lost in the shuffle.
This might be part of why I watch the movie Christmas Vacation every year. Healthy or not, the Griswold family chaos usually makes me feel better about how my holiday season is going. But it also reminds me to try to not get too lost in the shuffle, to focus on what’s most important (which I don’t always do, but I try), and to let go of the rest.
Letting it go (whatever it is). Letting it be. Letting it unfold, as it will, in God’s time. Mary’s journey can teach us something about this.
I’ve always been inspired by Mary’s willingness to say yes… in part because her yes is about so much more than agreeing to become Jesus’ mother. She said yes to God’s bigger vision. She said yes to being an active participant in God’s work of calling everything – all life, all creation, all of us – into deeper union with God and full communion with one another.
The invitation that was extended to Mary is still being extended to us. How are we saying yes?
The good news of the incarnation of Christ is that the presence of Christ, the Spirit of God with us, is still being embodied, enfleshed, in the very fabric of all creation. The presence of Christ is the connective tissue that binds us together as one body (as Paul wrote to the church in Corinth). The Word of God is made flesh and still dwells among us (as John’s gospel proclaims). It’s the Spirit that breathes us into being, that flows in and through, and all around.
The good news of incarnation is God’s resounding yes, an affirmation of love, to the longing of creation, to our longing. God is here. Even (and especially) in the messiness of life, God is with us. God is being born in our midst, again and again. God’s deep, durable, sustaining, and abundant love is being brought into new expressions of life every day by ordinary people… people just like Mary and Joseph, Elizabeth and Zechariah, and you and me.
At some point or another, I’ve probably told you about my mismatched nativity scene. It all started as a small, simple wooden set that my parents got for me at the local hardware store when I was probably about 5 years old. The usual figures were included – the holy family, a shepherd and some sheep, the wisemen, a donkey, and a little stable. It also included a couple of deer (which was a little unique).
And I don’t quite remember how it started, but over the next several years we began to add pieces to the scene. It may have begun with some angel tree ornaments that lost their hangers, but could still stand by the manger. Then we needed some trees to create a little forest for the deer. And over the years, it became a tradition that “Santa’s elves” would show up sometime during Advent with a new piece for my nativity scene (some of which were reflective of an important life event). As an older teen and young adult, I also bought some of my own additions. And some friends gave me some pieces too.
We eventually had to tell the elves enough is enough, because I didn’t have space to add any more figures. Though the elves did come out of retirement to give me a bride and groom cake topper to add the year that we got married.
Nothing matches. The sizes and materials are all over the place. Some pieces have been broken and repaired over the years. And it now includes 14 angels, birch, pine, and palm trees, a little drummer boy that is as tall as the stable, a giant gold star, a figure of Sophia (who is the feminine embodiment of Divine Wisdom), two dogs, two cats, a moose, four elephants, two crabs, two dolphins, five camels, a tiger, a pink hippopotamus, and a few others too!
It’s a little strange, to be sure, but I love it!
And to me it serves as a visual reminder during this season that all creation (in all its diverse, sometimes mismatched, odd, wondrous, imperfect, broken, repaired, and unexpected beauty) is being called into union with God, into adoration and reverence of God’s love in our midst, and into the embodiment of God’s love right here and now.
So, my hope and prayer for you, in these final Advent days and as you celebrate Christmas, is that you find moments to pause in wonder and take notice of how love is being born. And may that good news bring you hope, may it bring you peace, may it bring you joy. For you are God’s beloved and there is a place for you in God’s nativity scene.
Amen.
