“For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting,
the child in my womb leaped for joy.”
I
tried really hard to figure out a way to write this sermon without recalling
the recent tragedy in Connecticut, calling it a tragedy even seems like an
understatement. I tried to convince
myself that people are tired of talking about it, tired of thinking about it,
tired of hearing about it. I know I
am. The events certainly stir up a lot
of uncomfortable feelings.
I can’t imagine how
exhausting it must be for those in Newtown; just seeing the images on TV have
been overwhelming for me. Jamie and I
had to stop watching the news earlier this week as we were consumed by the heartbreak
happening in Newtown and right here in Alabama. You don’t have to look very hard
to see the amount of pain and suffering in the world.
To make matters worse,
some of the responses on social media and other news outlets are saddening and
even maddening. Most notably, the
response that says acts of evil are somehow a part of God’s design and/or
judgment. I won’t get into that this
morning except to say that this kind of theology is not only unhelpful but also
dangerous.
There is a message in the
midst of all this that cannot be talked about enough. As Glenda mentioned to the Vestry on Monday,
the message of Jesus is more important now than perhaps ever before. Jesus’ message is one of salvation from the
destructive ways of this world, and as scripture says this message of salvation
is met with a leap for joy.
Last Sunday, the
children’s choir offered us the joy of salvation in their annual Advent Lessons
and Carols as they sang songs about the peace and justice of God. I can’t think of a more appropriate way for
the message of salvation to have been preached on that day than for children to sing the words of the
Gospel.
The sound of their
innocent, beautiful, fragile little voices and the words of salvation that they
proclaimed so joyfully saved me from total despair that morning. They reminded me that the hope of God still
sings in the hearts of children everywhere, even when the voices of some were
tragically silenced.
After singing the stunning
offertory anthem Gentle Rain, the
children’s choir approached the Lord’s Table for Holy Communion. When they stretched out their little hands
with smiling faces, I found myself grieving again for the children in
Connecticut, but I also found myself giving thanks for our children. It was hard not to imagine the children from
Sandy Hook standing right next to them with their arms outstretched to receive
the gift of Jesus.
But as I thought about
it, those children were gathered
around the Lord’s Table with our children and they too sang songs of the peace
and justice of God. The communion of
saints was seen even more clearly around the Lord’s Table that morning.
This is the message of
salvation made available through the body and blood of Christ that was shed for
us, shed for the children who were killed in Newtown, shed for the victims of
war, shed for normal folk like you and me, shed for the thieves on the cross,
and even shed for the enemy. As the Song
of Mary, the Magnificat, boldly proclaims, the message of salvation is especially
for to the lowly, the forgotten, the outcast, and the abandoned.
Last Saturday, children
of incarcerated parents filled the Great Hall with laughter for the Angel Tree
Party. They made cookies. They sang Christmas carols. They played with bouncy balls for hours. They sat in Santa’s lap and got their pictures
taken. They reminded me that I am a
child too.
They sat right here in
the Nave and listened to the Christmas story, the story of the promise of
salvation, a story that some heard for the very first time. Perhaps for the first time, some also heard
that they have a heavenly parent, a heavenly Father, who through the gift of
Jesus, will be with them no matter what, even when all hope seems lost.
The message of the
salvation available in Jesus is a message that our children are hungry to
hear. This is a message that we are all
hungry to hear. Now that Jamie and I are
expecting our first child, it is hard not to imagine everyone as a little
child.
Scripture says that when
Mary greets her cousin Elizabeth with the good news of Jesus, the child in
Elizabeth’s womb leaps for joy. The gift
of Jesus certainly gives us all reason to leap for joy like little children in
a mother’s womb where there is only life and promise ahead.
In Jesus, God is
fulfilling His promise to be with us always and giving us reason to hope again. In Jesus, God is promising to be with us when
we hurt, when we die, when we laugh, and when we sing. Nothing is so strong that it will break this
promise of eternal joy, a joy that echoes from generation to generation through
the Song of Mary, through songs of praise and thanks, through the songs of our
children.
Today, our Gospel recalls
the story of two who first sang about the message of God our Savoir. On this 4th Sunday in Advent, we
get to rejoice with Mary and Elizabeth, two humble expecting mothers. The scene of two women preparing to give
birth hits especially close to home this year.
Like Elizabeth, my wife Jamie is in her sixth month of pregnancy and the
baby kicks all the time. One of our
close friends is in her third month of pregnancy.
So on some level, I can
imagine the encounter between Elizabeth and Mary and all their singing. While Jamie and her friend don’t sing to each
other, they glow with excitement and anticipation.
In addition to the joy
and wonder of this time, I also know very well the anxiety and fear that goes
along with expecting a child. Will I be a good parent? Will our baby be healthy? What happens if something bad happens? How can I keep her safe? What if I can’t protect her? What then?
As much as I hate to say
it, I know there is no amount of preparation that can fully make me ready to be
a father, for the good times and for the bad times. It doesn’t matter how much I try to prevent
bad things from happening, odds are my daughter will experience the pains and
hurts of this world. Despite Mary and
Elizabeth’s best efforts to protect their boys, both of their sons met a tragic
end.
I
don’t like having to think about these things.
Even more so, I don’t like that I have to let the possibility of danger
and hurt dictate how I prepare to bring up my daughter.
But there is good
news. There is the good news of Jesus
that I can prepare my daughter to hear.
Instead of letting destruction and evil define how I bring up my child, I
can look to Christ as the one who defines who my daughter is and who my
daughter will become.
My daughter’s life
doesn’t have to be defined by the fear of the unthinkable happening. Instead, her life can be defined by the good
news of Jesus. Her life can be defined
by songs of God’s peace and justice that sing louder than the pain of
tragedy. She is promised fullness of
life by her heavenly Father even when I cannot or fail to shield her from the
perils of this world. She is promised a
place at the Lord’s Table where all are recognized as God’s beloved, as God’s
children forever.
Brothers and sisters, as
we look forward to Christmas, we have reason to leap for joy, a child is to be
born. All that is terribly wrong and
heartbreaking about this world is overpowered by the light of this good news. A
child is to be born and this child will reorient our lives to see the goodness
and hope that God is dying for us to hold onto, dying for us to proclaim.
Like Mary and Elizabeth, we too have a song
to sing, a song of hope, a song of peace, a song of justice, a song of
salvation. As we sing in one of our
Christmas hymns, go forth and Repeat, Repeat the Sounding Joy. Amen.
