Fourth Sunday of Advent 2014
2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16
Luke 1:26-38
May I speak in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
"Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word."
Mary saying yes to the angel Gabriel was the beginning of a journey. A moment in time when she
moved from being one thing to becoming something else. That something else proved to be
significantly more important than her nine months preparation for having a child - even though
giving birth is transformative. Her journey was also to prove more profound than physically
travelling from Nazareth to Judea on the hill road or the Way of the Patriarchs. It was a 75 mile
journey that normally took 3-5 days. However, at the time I would bet that Mary being heavy with
child and traveling on stone roads on a donkey would have felt that the journey was pretty
memorable. Perhaps even Mary on occasion felt like the travelling was enough, that after all of the
hardship the destination wasn't worth it?
Advent is traditionally when we prepare and journey to new beginnings. Specifically, the birth of a
child in a manger that would bring to all of humanity renewed hope and bright futures lit by
starlight. Oftentimes, we don't move beyond this time of anticipation and expectation, but stay
firmly rooted in either our own expectations, which can make us lose sight of where we are going.
Or, some of us might find ourselves stuck in the manger thinking this is it. Yet, our preparation for
Christmas reminds us we born for life. Christmas is a time when we may begin our lives afresh, but
knowing that the journey is for movement not stagnation.
Our preparations remind us what is familiar and guide us to a goal we think we know. However,
that babe in the manger that we feel comfortable with and from a distance may make us feel safe
and secure. Our temptation may be to remain where it is safe, where it is familiar and where we
are embraced by family and friends. After all, what challenges can a mere baby pose? Walter
Brueggermann, an Old Testament scholar describes the call to movement as "a dangerous
departure from the presumed world of norms and security." And he makes the claim, "to stay in
safety is to remain barren; to leave in risk is to have hope." Mary's answer to the Angel Gabriel
was to say yes to risk, yes to venturing forth. Mary carried with her the hope that is in all of us.
Mary carried that hope cross country on a donkey and settled in a stable on the side of the road in
a town called Bethlehem.
It is along roads we travel. We make small journeys to work or the supermarket. We make longer
journeys across the globe on holiday or to move to another part of the world. We travel because of
necessity, but mostly because we are searching. We are searching for meaning, for fulfilment, for
love and perhaps most of all for what is just out of reach. Metanoia is a Greek word meaning
change of heart or will and refers to turning to God. Metanoia infers to steady movement towards
a God that urges us forward, but seems to always be just out of reach.
On our journeys and in our wanderings we sometimes stray and get lost. We get side tracked by
comfortable substitutions for love and fulfilment such as our jobs or a bit of money that allows us to
obtain the things we want. Occasionally, we just wander aimlessly and it can seem as though we
are treading through sand dunes - expending energy, but not moving towards any particular goal
which can cause frustration and stress. Paul Tillich, an American theologian, calls this the 'anxiety
of meaninglessness and despair'.
Roads can also be lonely at times. There are times when we are sojourners travelling in the
wilderness. When we seem to be treading the tracks with no support or affirmation and feel that
our actions are without purpose. Yet the wilderness need not be without purpose. We may find
strength and courage in the wilderness, in the waiting- we may even begin to see more clearly.
"The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light."
In the waiting , in the preparation and in the darkness it is important that we keep focused on the
goal, the hope we have set before us. Continuing the journey and learning to inch forward towards
the light. From the moment the soft pads of his baby feet took his first steps to when he rode a
donkey into Jerusalem to be crucified, we have in Jesus a model of fortitude and single
mindedness.
Paul, in his Letter to the Philippians, yearns to follow Jesus, "This one thing I do: forgetting what
lies behind straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the
heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus".
As Christians we are followers of 'the way'. Jesus says: "I am the way, the true and the life." It is to
him that our eyes turn and we move towards. Our journey is not without purpose- we are pursuing
the ultimate goal of union with God, but the inbetween times are significant as well. God calls us to
take the risk of movement, of living in a way that sets us apart, of pursuing righteousness along the
way. Yet, God does not abandon us to this task. The Book of Deuteronomy has some comforting
words, "God carried you, just as one carries a child, all the way that you travelled until you reached
this place."
But what is this place? From the manger to the cross where was Jesus going?
Home!
Jean Vanier who was the founder of the L'arche community which cares for people with disabilities
explained what home means to him: "going home is a journey to the heart of who we are, a place
where we can be ourselves and welcome the reality of our beauty and our pain. From this
acceptance of ourselves, we can accept others as they are and we can see our common
humanity".
We are partly at home when we glimpse the beauty of humanity and truth in others. This can be
what gives us courage to continue on the path when we feel disillusioned and fearful or when all
around us feels alien and hostile.
C.S. Lewis captures this sense of already, but not yet: "all things that have ever deeply possessed
your soul have been but hints of it - tantalising glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that
died away just as they caught your ear. But if it should really become manifest- if there ever came
an echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself - you would know it. Beyond all
possibility of doubt you would say "Here at last is the thing I was made for."
Mary glimpsed truth when the Angel Gabriel came to her that day and it prompted her to say, "here
am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be according to your word."
And someday when we are weary travellers finally at rest within God as that babe found solace in
his mother's arms we will fully understand:
"To stay in safety is to remain barren; to leave in risk is to have hope."
Amen