‘Twas the night before Christmas Eve,
And all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring;
(The dogs had been ousted).
The sermon was written,
Neither too short nor long,
A good message of love
Just wouldn’t be wrong.
The newsletter finished,
To be copied tomorrow.
(With 2 parish copiers
There will not be sorrow!)
The carols selected,
The playlist all done,
Those hymns which so joyfully
Soon will be sung.
The service prepared,
BAS pages marked,
“Let us in from outside!”
The two heathen dogs barked.
My clothing all chosen,
My vestments all laundered.
“What am I forgetting?”
This fab rector pondered.
Dress shoes in a bag,
Alongside Bible, and snacks!
Everything I might need,
There’ll be nothing I lack.
“I think that I’ve got it
All done” said the priest
(for once not a frantic
And unprepared beast!)
The gas tank is full,
The coffee pot set.
Christmas Eve will be long,
But I’ll make it through yet!
And so now, with a novel,
To my bed I do creep.
The last thing that I need
for tomorrow –
Is sleep.
23 December 2011
03 December 2011
Sermon, Advent 2
Isaiah 40:1-11
Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13
2 Peter 3:8-15a
Mark 1:1-8
In the mid-1960’s, Marshall McLuhan coined a new phrase that you may have heard before. This phrase is that “The Medium Is The Message.” And it’s a delightfully confusing term. Even at the time, he enjoyed playing around with its meaning – it was the medium is the message, the mess age, the mass age, and even the massage. Whatever the meaning du jour was intended, I think what we can take away from it is important: How we communicate something is just as important as what we are communicating.
While this catchphrase was new, the meaning of it is certainly not. We have long recognised that how we hear or see something has a great impact on what we think about it. And there are certainly a lot of ways of getting a message these days, aren’t there! Just this weekend, (and in no order), I have received concise information through Facebook, Twitter, Skype, text messaging, telephone, instant messaging, in-person communication, webpages on the internet, video, email, newspapers, books, and radio. Some of those were blogs, some were press releases, some were articles. There were anecdotes, humour, and fictitious stories. There were academic writings with extended vocabulary and proper grammar; there were long casual narratives with daily words, there were hastily written blogs full of typos.
I had other experiences of communication this weekend as well, of a non-verbal kind. In one conversation, there was an extended pause which suggested that there was more to the story yet to be told. In another instance, a one-letter text message let me know that my sharing of information had been received and would be dealt with. A shrug of the shoulders communicates indifference, a smile indicates humour, a constant looking at the watch suggests someone has another commitment. Even my dogs are clear on their needs – a whine to me when they need to go out, a bark at the fence when there is another dog in the area.
Even our tone communicates a lot – when counting, a compassionate tone is used when trying to teach a child. A stressed tone suggests that a person is counting as a means of calming themselves down when dealing with a negative situation. A distracted tone might suggest the counting off of items in a grocery list. A slurred tone might be someone trying to remember just how many drinks is too many. They all communicate different situations.
Likewise, appearance matters. We communicate a lot about who we are by our very appearance. Someone wearing a business suit generally garners respect; someone wearing a uniform in a store is expected to know something about the merchandise; someone huddled in dirty clothes on a street corner is not usually treated well. A cross around the neck suggests a Christian, a Star of David suggests a Jew. In the 60’s long hair was taboo, in the 80’s it was tattoos, nowadays it’s obscure piercings or makeup.
Experts tell us that the majority of our communication is without words. Some 60% is non-verbal (our clothing, our posture, our aroma, our appearance), and an additional 30% is our tone. So before we even get the chance to fumble over our words, we have already communicated some 90% of what others will perceive as our message. This makes a difference when we try to think about what we want others to hear about our message. Even with perfect words, the message may be lost in the medium.
I think this is why we get so much detail today about John the Baptist. We hear not just that he came out of the wilderness, we get a full description – we can visualise him standing there. He’s wearing camel hair. It’s rough, it’s dirty, it’s likely quite smelly. It’s a crude garment, with a leather belt – also likely rough and nasty looking. No tailored cloth for John; he’s the ultimate bush man. And quite the survivalist too – he eats locusts and wild honey. So not the best balanced diet; he’s likely thin, a little gaunt, bug wings and legs stuck in the beeswax on his hands and face. Dirty beard, bad breath, dust clouds all around him, callused feet from all the walking. Not a pretty sight. But he has a message. Oh yes, he has a message. And Mark reminds us that this message is the beginning of the Good News.
So why do we need to have such a graphic visual of this man who brings a message? Because it’s fulfilling a prophesy. He looks exactly like what the people are expecting the messenger of God to look like – after all, it’s what was written about in the scriptures. The chosen people are waiting for someone who looks just like John does. He’s not well-educated, he doesn’t use big fancy words or read off of prepared scrolls. He speaks the way the people want to hear it, in their own language, away from the city (and the city guards) where the people are most comfortable.
So here is the man who brings about the message. Before he opens his mouth, 90% of what he has to say has already been conveyed. Here is the man to bring signal a change – a man whose very appearance represents what the prophet Isaiah has long promised. God’s comfort is coming. “Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.” God has promised them their time of suffering is coming to an end – that they have more than paid for their sins, that their saviour is coming. That they are to shout from the mountaintop with joy and strength that their God is present, and will provide for them with great love and compassion.
And so the people are ready to hear the good news from John, they are waiting with high hopes for the message he is to bring them. And they hear it. He does not need to re-read the entirety of the scriptures, for the people know them. He is living them. He is preaching of repentance and forgiveness of sins, just as the prophets of old have done. He is fulfilling the prophesy, thanks be to God!
John is also aware of what he can and cannot do, however – he knows that while he plays a significant role in the narrative, that he is not the Messiah. He tells people that his job is to remind people to be prepared for the one who comes after him, the one who will baptise with the Holy Spirit. The one who will become their – and our saviour. He is reminding them that they too have a responsibility within the community. Their responsibility is to make sure that the word spreads – that the entire city and beyond knows that the Lord is coming. They are to take the news of John’s arrival and John’s message and carry it out into the world. Because without someone to receive a message, there can be no message.
And so they went – and we know this because we have these scriptures with us today. But within these scriptures is also a challenge for us all. To prepare the way of the Lord. To go out and proclaim the good news of repentance and forgiveness of sins. To prepare the world for a Saviour. And so we go out to communicate it.
But we must be careful about how we spread this message, to make sure that it is indeed God’s word that is being shared. We must focus on the 90% of communication we give to the world before we open our mouths. We must be aware of how our every action tells those around us a little about us. So whether we meet a person in a business suit or a person begging for change, we offer them the same amount of compassion and respect as we are all children of God. When we interact with one another and give them our full attention instead of checking our watches or making excuses, we are demonstrating God’s infinite patience for all of us. When we make the effort to smile at everyone we see, to be kind to our neighbours, to use a tone that embodies love rather than anger, we are preparing a way. We are removing barriers for one another and so removing barriers for Christ. We are making pathways straight, lifting up valleys, lowering mountains so that all might journey together as a family. As we were instructed to do by the prophets.
Mark tells us that this is the beginning of the Good News. It’s our responsibility to ensure that this Good News continues to be shared.
Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13
2 Peter 3:8-15a
Mark 1:1-8
In the mid-1960’s, Marshall McLuhan coined a new phrase that you may have heard before. This phrase is that “The Medium Is The Message.” And it’s a delightfully confusing term. Even at the time, he enjoyed playing around with its meaning – it was the medium is the message, the mess age, the mass age, and even the massage. Whatever the meaning du jour was intended, I think what we can take away from it is important: How we communicate something is just as important as what we are communicating.
While this catchphrase was new, the meaning of it is certainly not. We have long recognised that how we hear or see something has a great impact on what we think about it. And there are certainly a lot of ways of getting a message these days, aren’t there! Just this weekend, (and in no order), I have received concise information through Facebook, Twitter, Skype, text messaging, telephone, instant messaging, in-person communication, webpages on the internet, video, email, newspapers, books, and radio. Some of those were blogs, some were press releases, some were articles. There were anecdotes, humour, and fictitious stories. There were academic writings with extended vocabulary and proper grammar; there were long casual narratives with daily words, there were hastily written blogs full of typos.
I had other experiences of communication this weekend as well, of a non-verbal kind. In one conversation, there was an extended pause which suggested that there was more to the story yet to be told. In another instance, a one-letter text message let me know that my sharing of information had been received and would be dealt with. A shrug of the shoulders communicates indifference, a smile indicates humour, a constant looking at the watch suggests someone has another commitment. Even my dogs are clear on their needs – a whine to me when they need to go out, a bark at the fence when there is another dog in the area.
Even our tone communicates a lot – when counting, a compassionate tone is used when trying to teach a child. A stressed tone suggests that a person is counting as a means of calming themselves down when dealing with a negative situation. A distracted tone might suggest the counting off of items in a grocery list. A slurred tone might be someone trying to remember just how many drinks is too many. They all communicate different situations.
Likewise, appearance matters. We communicate a lot about who we are by our very appearance. Someone wearing a business suit generally garners respect; someone wearing a uniform in a store is expected to know something about the merchandise; someone huddled in dirty clothes on a street corner is not usually treated well. A cross around the neck suggests a Christian, a Star of David suggests a Jew. In the 60’s long hair was taboo, in the 80’s it was tattoos, nowadays it’s obscure piercings or makeup.
Experts tell us that the majority of our communication is without words. Some 60% is non-verbal (our clothing, our posture, our aroma, our appearance), and an additional 30% is our tone. So before we even get the chance to fumble over our words, we have already communicated some 90% of what others will perceive as our message. This makes a difference when we try to think about what we want others to hear about our message. Even with perfect words, the message may be lost in the medium.
I think this is why we get so much detail today about John the Baptist. We hear not just that he came out of the wilderness, we get a full description – we can visualise him standing there. He’s wearing camel hair. It’s rough, it’s dirty, it’s likely quite smelly. It’s a crude garment, with a leather belt – also likely rough and nasty looking. No tailored cloth for John; he’s the ultimate bush man. And quite the survivalist too – he eats locusts and wild honey. So not the best balanced diet; he’s likely thin, a little gaunt, bug wings and legs stuck in the beeswax on his hands and face. Dirty beard, bad breath, dust clouds all around him, callused feet from all the walking. Not a pretty sight. But he has a message. Oh yes, he has a message. And Mark reminds us that this message is the beginning of the Good News.
So why do we need to have such a graphic visual of this man who brings a message? Because it’s fulfilling a prophesy. He looks exactly like what the people are expecting the messenger of God to look like – after all, it’s what was written about in the scriptures. The chosen people are waiting for someone who looks just like John does. He’s not well-educated, he doesn’t use big fancy words or read off of prepared scrolls. He speaks the way the people want to hear it, in their own language, away from the city (and the city guards) where the people are most comfortable.
So here is the man who brings about the message. Before he opens his mouth, 90% of what he has to say has already been conveyed. Here is the man to bring signal a change – a man whose very appearance represents what the prophet Isaiah has long promised. God’s comfort is coming. “Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.” God has promised them their time of suffering is coming to an end – that they have more than paid for their sins, that their saviour is coming. That they are to shout from the mountaintop with joy and strength that their God is present, and will provide for them with great love and compassion.
And so the people are ready to hear the good news from John, they are waiting with high hopes for the message he is to bring them. And they hear it. He does not need to re-read the entirety of the scriptures, for the people know them. He is living them. He is preaching of repentance and forgiveness of sins, just as the prophets of old have done. He is fulfilling the prophesy, thanks be to God!
John is also aware of what he can and cannot do, however – he knows that while he plays a significant role in the narrative, that he is not the Messiah. He tells people that his job is to remind people to be prepared for the one who comes after him, the one who will baptise with the Holy Spirit. The one who will become their – and our saviour. He is reminding them that they too have a responsibility within the community. Their responsibility is to make sure that the word spreads – that the entire city and beyond knows that the Lord is coming. They are to take the news of John’s arrival and John’s message and carry it out into the world. Because without someone to receive a message, there can be no message.
And so they went – and we know this because we have these scriptures with us today. But within these scriptures is also a challenge for us all. To prepare the way of the Lord. To go out and proclaim the good news of repentance and forgiveness of sins. To prepare the world for a Saviour. And so we go out to communicate it.
But we must be careful about how we spread this message, to make sure that it is indeed God’s word that is being shared. We must focus on the 90% of communication we give to the world before we open our mouths. We must be aware of how our every action tells those around us a little about us. So whether we meet a person in a business suit or a person begging for change, we offer them the same amount of compassion and respect as we are all children of God. When we interact with one another and give them our full attention instead of checking our watches or making excuses, we are demonstrating God’s infinite patience for all of us. When we make the effort to smile at everyone we see, to be kind to our neighbours, to use a tone that embodies love rather than anger, we are preparing a way. We are removing barriers for one another and so removing barriers for Christ. We are making pathways straight, lifting up valleys, lowering mountains so that all might journey together as a family. As we were instructed to do by the prophets.
Mark tells us that this is the beginning of the Good News. It’s our responsibility to ensure that this Good News continues to be shared.
Sermon, Advent 1
Isaiah 64:1-9
Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19
1 Corinthians 1:3-9
Mark 13:24-37
Do you have a favourite piece of artwork? A painting, a photograph, a sculpture? Each of us has something that has caught our eye, from time to time. That has, for whatever reason, spoken to us. That has somehow invited us to slow down and take a closer look. It may have been in an art gallery, at the side of the road, on the television. Wherever it was, it made an impression. It could have struck us the first time we saw it, or we may have passed it by time and again without paying it any attention. We may have been uncertain about whether we liked it or not, whether we understood it or not. We may not fully understand why we’re attracted to one piece of art and not another.
My favourite painting is Van Gogh’s “A Starry Night.” I love looking at it – I even have a replica hanging over my bed. I’m not sure if it’s the genre (I tend to like the impressionists and post-impressionists). It may be that I’ve always loved stars. It could be that it simply speaks to my favourite colour being blue. I haven’t taken any art classes or have any particularly scholarly appreciation for it- I simply like it. It catches my eye, every time I see it. And I don’t think I necessarily WANT to delve deeply into the meanings and interpretations and all of that about this painting. I just want to keep looking at it and being impressed.
And the more I keep looking at the painting, the more I discover in it. It’s as though layers are peeling away in order that new layers are being revealed. It’s not just a starry night. It’s the mountains in the background to the right (the Alpilles mountain range). It’s the small town (St. Remy). It’s the olive grove just outside of town. It’s the very white church in the centre, with its disproportionally tall steeple. It’s the dark area on the left, which many mistake for a building that is actually a Cyprus tree. It’s the swirling mass in the sky, drawn almost exactly like the depiction of a spiral galaxy drawn by astronomers and widely published some 40 years previously, when Van Gogh was in his youth. It’s the sense of movement across the canvas, and the realisation that the focal point of the picture is not, in fact, in the centre – but in the many subtle details off to the side. It’s as though the artist is encouraging people to take the time to really look at what it is he sees from his bedroom window.
The thing with this painting, too, is that I have to like it for exactly what it is – a starry night. It doesn’t tell me what the future holds, it doesn’t tell me what tomorrow will be like, it focuses just on today. And it invites me to dig deeper into what it means to be caught in just this one moment. This one moment was significant enough to the artist to memorise at night and re-create the following day in the daylight, so I should take the time and effort to focus on whatever is presented in front of me.
I find a similar challenge and invitation with Advent. We’re waiting, and watching. We know something is coming. We don’t necessarily know when or how, but we know. Advent is a time for us to intentionally stop, sit back, and be aware of the world around us. Be aware of how the changing world around us is a symbol – like a fig tree preparing to blossom – that the Christ, the anointed, the Chosen one will come. We do not wait with our eyes on the clock, or the calendar, but with our eyes on the world listening to our hearts. The Latin Adventus, from where we get our Advent, comes from the Greek parousia which compels us not only to be aware as we await the second coming of the Christ but also to remember the waiting of the Hebrew people before Jesus’ appearance to Mary and Joseph.
For us in the Western Church, the season of Advent is 4 weeks, and it starts the new liturgical year. It starts on the 4th Sunday before Christmas – so today is actually the earliest day it can begin. In the Celtic Christian tradition, Advent spans 40 days, beginning 16 Nov., and is treated with prayer and reflection and fasting, much in the same way as Lent. In some traditions, there are candles lit and prayers offered daily in the gathered community; in some there is a wreath whose weekly candles are lit, in others the church bears no special attraction.
Society as a whole tends to ignore the traditions and rituals of Advent. Some of our children will follow a (loosely-called) Advent calendar (notice how they don’t follow the season of Advent but the month of December?) People will be out lighting their Christmas lights, putting up trees, shopping and baking. Shopping – yikes – this weekend, the so-called Black Friday and Cyber Monday – truly a testament to the true meaning of being a Christian society! I was appalled to hear of the violence and hatred being shown in stores, and parking lots. Especially in this time of economic uncertainty, why are people literally killing one another in order to spend money they may not have on more stuff that no one needs? This is not done to prepare for the coming of the Christ!
And so here, we Christians are challenged to really get into the meaning of Advent. We’re meant to avoid the RUSH! Mentality of the secular world and enter into a holy time of anticipating, of waiting, of watching. That’s not to say that we don’t have things to do, but that we are invited into a calmer state of mind and heart in the process, with our focus on the things that do matter this time of year.
We’re invited to recognise that God is making an impression on our hearts, in much the same way that our favourite piece of art does on our eyes. Maybe we don’t understand it, but we realise it’s there. We’re invited to look at the world around us, and be as intentional in that as we are when examining our favourite art – peeling back layers and layers of what others are skimming past, seeing more and more the presence of God’s love and grace and joy. And the harder we look for it, the more we will be delighted to find.
We are entering into this holy season with an awareness – that something new and different is coming, that everything is about to change. And so our response to this awareness is to be prepared for that change – that infusion of light into the world. Our response is to spend a reflective and calm Advent so that we’re eager and energetic and enthusiastic to meet that change, that Christ moment; rather than exhausted by the hustle and bustle. We’re invited to be entranced by just a single moment, not to be so busy that it passes us by unnoticed.
My prayer this Advent is that we all make the time to be present in the moment, recognising God’s presence in the moment.
Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19
1 Corinthians 1:3-9
Mark 13:24-37
Do you have a favourite piece of artwork? A painting, a photograph, a sculpture? Each of us has something that has caught our eye, from time to time. That has, for whatever reason, spoken to us. That has somehow invited us to slow down and take a closer look. It may have been in an art gallery, at the side of the road, on the television. Wherever it was, it made an impression. It could have struck us the first time we saw it, or we may have passed it by time and again without paying it any attention. We may have been uncertain about whether we liked it or not, whether we understood it or not. We may not fully understand why we’re attracted to one piece of art and not another.
My favourite painting is Van Gogh’s “A Starry Night.” I love looking at it – I even have a replica hanging over my bed. I’m not sure if it’s the genre (I tend to like the impressionists and post-impressionists). It may be that I’ve always loved stars. It could be that it simply speaks to my favourite colour being blue. I haven’t taken any art classes or have any particularly scholarly appreciation for it- I simply like it. It catches my eye, every time I see it. And I don’t think I necessarily WANT to delve deeply into the meanings and interpretations and all of that about this painting. I just want to keep looking at it and being impressed.
And the more I keep looking at the painting, the more I discover in it. It’s as though layers are peeling away in order that new layers are being revealed. It’s not just a starry night. It’s the mountains in the background to the right (the Alpilles mountain range). It’s the small town (St. Remy). It’s the olive grove just outside of town. It’s the very white church in the centre, with its disproportionally tall steeple. It’s the dark area on the left, which many mistake for a building that is actually a Cyprus tree. It’s the swirling mass in the sky, drawn almost exactly like the depiction of a spiral galaxy drawn by astronomers and widely published some 40 years previously, when Van Gogh was in his youth. It’s the sense of movement across the canvas, and the realisation that the focal point of the picture is not, in fact, in the centre – but in the many subtle details off to the side. It’s as though the artist is encouraging people to take the time to really look at what it is he sees from his bedroom window.
The thing with this painting, too, is that I have to like it for exactly what it is – a starry night. It doesn’t tell me what the future holds, it doesn’t tell me what tomorrow will be like, it focuses just on today. And it invites me to dig deeper into what it means to be caught in just this one moment. This one moment was significant enough to the artist to memorise at night and re-create the following day in the daylight, so I should take the time and effort to focus on whatever is presented in front of me.
I find a similar challenge and invitation with Advent. We’re waiting, and watching. We know something is coming. We don’t necessarily know when or how, but we know. Advent is a time for us to intentionally stop, sit back, and be aware of the world around us. Be aware of how the changing world around us is a symbol – like a fig tree preparing to blossom – that the Christ, the anointed, the Chosen one will come. We do not wait with our eyes on the clock, or the calendar, but with our eyes on the world listening to our hearts. The Latin Adventus, from where we get our Advent, comes from the Greek parousia which compels us not only to be aware as we await the second coming of the Christ but also to remember the waiting of the Hebrew people before Jesus’ appearance to Mary and Joseph.
For us in the Western Church, the season of Advent is 4 weeks, and it starts the new liturgical year. It starts on the 4th Sunday before Christmas – so today is actually the earliest day it can begin. In the Celtic Christian tradition, Advent spans 40 days, beginning 16 Nov., and is treated with prayer and reflection and fasting, much in the same way as Lent. In some traditions, there are candles lit and prayers offered daily in the gathered community; in some there is a wreath whose weekly candles are lit, in others the church bears no special attraction.
Society as a whole tends to ignore the traditions and rituals of Advent. Some of our children will follow a (loosely-called) Advent calendar (notice how they don’t follow the season of Advent but the month of December?) People will be out lighting their Christmas lights, putting up trees, shopping and baking. Shopping – yikes – this weekend, the so-called Black Friday and Cyber Monday – truly a testament to the true meaning of being a Christian society! I was appalled to hear of the violence and hatred being shown in stores, and parking lots. Especially in this time of economic uncertainty, why are people literally killing one another in order to spend money they may not have on more stuff that no one needs? This is not done to prepare for the coming of the Christ!
And so here, we Christians are challenged to really get into the meaning of Advent. We’re meant to avoid the RUSH! Mentality of the secular world and enter into a holy time of anticipating, of waiting, of watching. That’s not to say that we don’t have things to do, but that we are invited into a calmer state of mind and heart in the process, with our focus on the things that do matter this time of year.
We’re invited to recognise that God is making an impression on our hearts, in much the same way that our favourite piece of art does on our eyes. Maybe we don’t understand it, but we realise it’s there. We’re invited to look at the world around us, and be as intentional in that as we are when examining our favourite art – peeling back layers and layers of what others are skimming past, seeing more and more the presence of God’s love and grace and joy. And the harder we look for it, the more we will be delighted to find.
We are entering into this holy season with an awareness – that something new and different is coming, that everything is about to change. And so our response to this awareness is to be prepared for that change – that infusion of light into the world. Our response is to spend a reflective and calm Advent so that we’re eager and energetic and enthusiastic to meet that change, that Christ moment; rather than exhausted by the hustle and bustle. We’re invited to be entranced by just a single moment, not to be so busy that it passes us by unnoticed.
My prayer this Advent is that we all make the time to be present in the moment, recognising God’s presence in the moment.
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