It’s the third Sunday of Advent. And that means many things.
It means John the Baptist is back for a second week, like the pesky
relative who showed up for “just a couple nights” and
is now quite at home in the guest room and shows no sign of ever leaving.
The third Sunday of Advent means just eight shopping days left until
Christmas. And the third Sunday of Advent means that we light the
pink candle on our Advent wreath, the candle of joy.
Why
do we do that? You know, originally, Advent was to be a season a lot
like Lent, a season of prayer and repentance, not like the season
we’ve made it into. It was a time of fasting and self-denial,
not feasting and over-indulgence. But even those early church fathers,
or maybe the church mothers figured it out first, even they created
an escape valve from all that gloom and doom. And so they made the
Third Sunday of Advent a day of rejoicing. We hear it in the Scriptures
of the day. “Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice
and exult with all your heart!” That’s why we light the
pink candle in our Advent wreath on this Third Sunday, to show forth
our joy.
But
you know, the third Sunday of Advent finds many of us, rather than
being overjoyed and enthralled by the season, actually rather frazzled
and stressed out. The joy of God’s advent has become an endless
season from mid-October to New Year’s day, chock full of excess
and merriment the entire time. By this point, some among us are nearly
done in by all this merrymaking and ho-ho-ho’ing. “The
curse of Christmas” one of you has named it, this relentless
pressure to be jolly. Heaven help us!
There’s
a list of Christmas Carols for disturbed persons going around the
internet and it surely speaks to many of us right about now on this
Third Sunday of Advent. At least it helps us laugh at how we’re
feeling. If you’re experiencing a bit of overload and memory
loss, you’re singing “I Think I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”
For the truly stressed out: “Do You Hear What I Hear?”
Behind in your shopping? “Santa Claus is Coming to Town to Get
Me.” Just plain worn out and grumpy? “You Better Watch
Out, I’m Gonna Cry, I’m Gonna Pout, Maybe I’ll Tell
You Why.” Or, for the truly manic Martha Stewart maniacs: “Deck
the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and Stores and
Office and Children and Trees and Pets…”
I’m
right there with you. I usually have a melt-down sometime about now,
around the Third Sunday in Advent, tired, behind in all that I had
meant to do THIS Christmas, sobbing to my ever-patient husband, “but
I just wanted to have a quiet, beautiful, meaningful Christmas…you
know….chestnuts roasting on an open fire….” And
he says: “It’s OK, dear. You don’t even like chestnuts!”
Sometimes laughter helps us through, especially when we can stop and
laugh at ourselves. But quite seriously, there are some I know that,
among us this morning, and maybe even more so out in the homes and
apartments of many who would not dare to enter a church this day,
are those whose hearts are heavy and upon whom true sorrow lies like
a blanket of grief. Christmas time can be a season of increased anxiety
and depression, when the darkness of the winter nights becomes the
darkness of the soul. Where there is an empty chair at the table,
a recent diagnosis of illness, treatment endured…where there
is loss and tragedy…where there is not enough money to pay the
bills, let alone buy presents…where a marriage is ending…where
downsizing means your job is about to go…where the best medication
can’t seem to quiet the internal demons….where depression
persists like that unwanted guest.…
In
so many of hearts and minds and bodies this day, sadness reigns and
the darkness is all-too-real.
Some
churches have started a new Advent tradition that is just for such
as these. Some call it “Blue Christmas,” others the service
of the Longest Night. Celebrated about this time in Advent, or on
the night of the winter solstice, the longest night of the year in
the northern hemisphere, these special worship services are for those
who sorrow and are heavy-laden. As the publicity for one says: “Despite
the trappings of gifts, special meals and Christmas carols, this season
can be darker than ‘normal’ times of the year for those
who struggle.”
Blue
Christmas worship services focus on the comfort God offers during
dark times. Their message? You can be honest about who you are and
all that you’re feeling this Christmas. If this is a blue year
for you, know that God loves you and walks with, even through the
valley of the shadow of death.
God
is with us all. Even those, maybe especially those, for whom Christmas
is more blue than bright. Because, God’s love comes to us in
the darkness of this life as we know it, in the darkness of the night
as we experience it. Even in the darkness, precisely in the darkness,
God’s light shines, right where it is needed most.
All
of us have traditions at this time of year, things we just must do
each year to make Christmas feel like Christmas and help us through.
One of mine is watching the movie “Miracle on 34th Street.”
There’s just something about watching that lawyer, Fred Gayley,
prove beyond a shadow of a doubt, with the help of the US postal service,
that Kris Kringle is the one and only Santa Claus. The naysayers are
overcome, love triumphs and the mean and nasty people of the world
are put in their place. It’s great. And when Mrs. Walker, so
deeply hurt by an early failed marriage, says to her little daughter
Susie: “You know, Susie, faith is believing when common sense
tells you not to,” we’re right at the heart of the Christmas
message. Faith is believing when common sense tells you not to.
So
if the “common sense” of your life is getting you down
this year, a dose of Christmas faith may be just the thing for you.
Especially for anyone experiencing a blue Christmas this year, for
whom everything is a bit out of whack and nothing seems to make sense
anymore, the Christmas story is just for you. The whole thing defies
common sense. A young couple struggling through the night to go and
pay their taxes. A star shining brighter than any other in the night
sky. Angels appearing out of nowhere to sing tidings of comfort and
joy to the rag-tag shepherds and their flocks. The young mother bearing
Emmanuel for the world. Three exotic astrologers crossing the desert
to bring gifts to the newborn babe. It all defies common sense. Only
a story as impossibly wondrous as this could cause the light to break
forth in our darkness.
The
great writer, Madeleine L’Engle, put it this way, in her poem,
“First Coming”: “God did not wait till the world
was ready, till…nations were at peace. God came when the Heavens
were unsteady and prisoners cried out for release. God did not wait
for the perfect time. God came when the need was deep and great. God
dined with sinners in all their grime, turned water into wine. God
did not wait till hearts were pure. In joy God came to a tarnished
world of sin and doubt. To a world like ours, of anguished shame God
came, and God’s Light would not go out. God came to a world
which did not mesh, to heal its tangles, shield its scorn. In the
mystery of the Word made Flesh the Maker of the stars was born. We
cannot wait till the world is sane to raise our songs with joyful
voice--for to share our grief, to touch our pain, God came with love:
rejoice! Rejoice!”
God
comes to us with love. That’s the message of Christmas. And
often we see it more in the little things than in grand events on
the world stage. And in such moments, the crazy, impossible story
becomes real to us again. Let me share one with you…
It
is our congregation’s tradition to put up two big manger scenes
each year, one down on the Palisades and one out here in the courtyard.
I want to publicly thank all those who maintain this labor of love
that means so much to so many. Each year, I witness little Christmas
miracles down at the manger, miracles that bring great joy. This year
is no different. Some of you know that we have a Swedish school that
meets here weekly. I had no idea that there are so many Swedes in
the Los Angeles area till this group came to us. They are young parents
who want to pass on the culture and the language to their children
who are growing up here in the States.
Last
week, late in the afternoon as the sun was going down, I was walking
past the crèche. I saw a little girl standing right by the
manger. She had climbed inside to get close to the Baby Jesus, and
she was just tall enough to look over the edge. She was leaning in,
close to his face and talking. And as I drew near, I could hear that
she was speaking to the Baby Jesus in Swedish and he must surely have
been responding to her, because she was carrying on quite a little
conversation with him. Her dad stood patiently nearby, wisely knowing
the importance of such a precious moment in the life and faith of
his little daughter.
Now isn’t it wonderful to know that Jesus speaks fluent Swedish?
And that, even as a newborn Babe, he could converse with a little
girl, because she believed that he could and would? The scene I witnessed
reminds us that he speaks all the languages of the human heart, hears
us all, understands us all, comforts and receives us all.
Christmas
is not about superificial merry-making, but about a much deeper joy.
Were we to measure the time of the advent of God by the clocks and
calendars of this world, or of our hearts, the time might never be
right. We might never be ready. And still God comes. Christ is born.
And the miracle of God’s comfort and joy is available to all.
And
so, on the Third Sunday of Advent, we let God’s time and God’s
ways overtake our own. We light the pink candle as if we really mean
it. So that, even if just for a moment, we can set aside our frenzy
and our weariness. We can maybe even make a little space in our sorrow
for just a glimmer of light.
Behold,
the angels still say. We bring tidings of great joy for all the people.
For unto us is born a Savior who is Christ the Lord.
Notes:
“The
Service of the Longest Night” materials from Little Falls Presbyterian
Church, Arlington, Virginia.
“First
Coming.” Madeleine L’Engle
©Patricia
Farris , 2006. Permission is given for brief quotation with attribution.
All other rights reserved.
First
United Methodist Church
1008 Eleventh Street
Santa Monica, CA 90403
www.santamonicaumc.org
(310) 393-8258
Spread
the News