THE PRIESTLESS PARISH - THE POTTED PLANT SYNDROME

In this post, I look at what many small parishes in the United States face when their existence is tied to affording the services of a minister or priest and keeping  their lights on.  When a parish's congregation shrinks to a size that no longer afford a priest, one begins to ponder how a parish that has existed for over a century and a half like the one I belong to finds itself in such a situation.  Is it a problem with the parish, or a problem with diocese, or is my parish's situation merely symptomatic of what is happening in mainline denominations worldwide? 

THE POTTED PLANT SYNDROME

Having read several sources on how to rejuvenate or revitalize a dying congregation naturally leads to a discussion on the need for change.  Change, however, is mostly talked about in terms of being driven by an outsider; a priest or minister who comes in to shake things up and shake things out, which roughly translates as shaking some people up and shaking some people out.  Not once did these sources consider that the problem many mainline churches are facing is that the model of ecclesial life they perpetuate needs to change; that it is an antiquated, highly controlled, and a largely controlling  hierarchical system that fosters something similar to a codependent relationship between parish and diocese.

The blame for the shrinking congregation is usually related to the fact (and it is a fact) that congregations become very attached and comfortable with the way things have been going for so long that they see no need to change or grow.  They start behaving like a potted plant in the community; sitting there looking pretty and not prone to frequent blooming or expanding their presence beyond the pot they're planted in. Like a potted plant, the parish is content to be watered and fed by the occasional presbyter and will allow some minor pruning, periodically, but is generally adverse to being shaken up or the soil in which  it was originally planted disturbed for fear the roots have become attached to the pot, itself, and if separated from the pot, the plant will suffer and die.

Priests/ministers come and go, but for the most part and throughout much of its history the small but long established parish has remained fairly stable.  Children  grow up and leave, and as time goes by, members move or pass away, increasing the number of vacant pews.  By the time the  parishioners realizes there's a problem, the situation has become critical.  

For the most part, parishioners don't see the crisis building as long as there is a priest or minister standing in front of them blocking their view.  Once the priest leaves or retires and their isn't enough money in the treasury to keep  the way of life they've grown accustomed to going, the picture becomes all too clear, "We're in trouble."

PLACE, PEOPLE, PRAYER BOOK

When the search committee for a priest I serve on began, we presented the members of our congregation a survey to help develop our congregation's profile.  This is a normal thing to do in the Episcopal search process.  The survey is aimed at giving a prospective candidate an idea of how our congregation sees itself and what we're searching for when it comes to a priest.

We developed a very good survey as it turned out because most of the congregants took time to fill it out fully; going so far as to write in the margins to express their ideas and thoughts.  Not only did what they wrote tell us what attracted and interested them about our parish, it also revealed what they weren't concerned about - a priest.

Grant it, sending out a survey that is going to be used to develop a  church's profile for obtaining a rector (priest), one can reasonably assume things like God, Jesus, and priest to be understood.  What was interesting for me is that apart from a few spoon fed answers from which the respondent could choose from, when asked why they attend our church, the choice "I feel closer to God" (the only choice related to God) came in fifth out of seven choices.  Of the over seventy individuals who took the survey and wrote in their own comments, Christ was mentioned only once and God was mentioned three times; one of which was in answer to the question, "Where do you feel God is leading our church" to which the respondent said, "I don't know where God is leading us?"   

The survey demonstrated that what was most import to the vast majority of our congregation was: Place (our historic church building), People (the members in our pews), and Prayer Book (our form of liturgy); in that order.  The only time a priest was mentioned in the written comments was in reference to missing our last priest who retired

The presumption that most respondents weren't thinking there was a need to identify the obvious left me wondering if anyone would have bothered mentioning a priest had we not included questions in our survey regarding a priest. That people wrote extensive comments with little reference to God or Jesus, much less, mention a priest indicates that God, Jesus, and a priest were either being taken for granted or were not in the forefront of their minds as something personally important to mention as a motive to belonging to our particular church.

What place, people, and prayer book, reveal is that members of our congregation appear more concerned about our parish's form rather than its function as a "Christian" church.  The consensus seems to be that we come to this particular place of worship because we like its beauty and history.  We like the people who come here because they're the people we have come to know and like doing "churchy" things with  We love our prayer book; our way of worshipping.  It give us an identity as Episcopalian, if not Christian.  

What appears to be lacking is the connection between form and function; between loving the trappings of parish life and it's relation to the message of Jesus as a way of life.  As far as I can tell, priests in our parish have never been able to knit together the love of the place, its people, and its prayer book as an expression of their love of God or the teachings of Jesus. Perhaps such a connection doesn't exist or the thought of making it never occurred to anyone as it becomes one of those "understood things". [I will explore why "understood things" are  rarely understood in a meaningful way in a future post.]

THE SPECTRE OF EVANGELISM

Undoubtedly some might think we need to get with the program - be more Christian - forsake the things of this world; like the pot we've become root-bound in, deny our cliquish satisfaction with our form of "churchiness," risk killing off attached roots in order to form new ones, and spread out like an uncontrollable weed.  After all, there is biblical precedent for entertaining such a viewpoint.  It sounds right, doesn't it?

It may sound right, but the problem is it doesn't feel right because its not who we are nor where we're at presently.  So, I'm not going there and here's why:

When  our diocese's Minister for Transition had a live video chat with our search committee about revitalizing our congregation, he brought up the need to engage in community evangelism - spreading the Gospel - at least that's what is means in most denominations.  I can only imagine what he saw in the faces of  those present - the confused look of a small herd of deer staring in the headlights of an on-coming car.  Evangelism?  Really?  He received an immediate, but honest response, "We're not good at that sort of thing."

We live in a community that is well-churched, close to twenty different congregations in a community of roughly fifteen thousand.  Just who are we supposed to evangelize?  Just who are we suppose to convert and from what?

Let's face it, those interested in church are in a church.  Those not interested in a church have their reasons for not being interested in a church, which most likely has to do with their experiences of being in one.  It is likely that a good number of those who don't attend services regularly will identify with a particular denomination they don't care about but will say they belong to, if for no other reason than to avoid being evangelized.

What the Minister for Transition also suggested is that being small allows us to reinvent who we are.  I'm not sure what that means either, but its more intriguing than evangelizing  a community that largely identifies as church-affiliated.  He also made the observation that church's are prone to demographic trends.

In other words, seeking a younger priest will likely lead to a attracting a younger crowd.  If a congregation seeks a more established priest, this will likely maintain the type of congregation we currently have, older but more established.  If we seek a half-time priest, we will likely stick with seeking half-time priests for the foreseeable future, and so on.

What strikes me in this demographic illustration is that priests have done very little to grow the congregation since my family joined this congregation twenty-five years ago. I am not blaming or faulting them, but if that has been the trend, what makes us think that getting a priest full-time or half-time, younger or older will change that in the two to five years we have to turn things around before our reserves run out?

 "REALITY IS OUR FRIEND"

Our bishop made a very relevant observation when we began this search process.  He said, "Reality is our friend."  I like that.  

If reality is our friend, let's begin by being honest.  There is no denying that engaging in an evangelism process within a community that has a smorgasbord of churches for people to choose from is more about bringing "church-able" people in so we can afford a priest who will grow the church so we can afford to keep a priest.

This may sound cynical, but it's not.  It's reality, and its a reality that is not very appealing because it takes on the appearance of a circular circular argument and we'll likely end up where we're at right now:

What do we need to remain viable as a parish?
                          We need a priest.
How do we get a priest we can't afford?
                           We will evangelize.
What  if that doesn't work?
                           We won't get a priest and remain viable.
What do we need to remain viable as a parish?
                           We need a priest who can evangelize.
         
In addition to its lack of appeal, is the fact that it is not the change we're seeking nor is it a change that we can accommodate at the present time.

If reality is our friend, then we must start with what is real about who we are and where we're at, place, people, and prayer book.  What our congregation needs is to knit these to the teachings of Jesus.  It is only when we fully embrace who we are and understand what that means and understand connection  between place, people, prayer book and the message of Jesus that evangelism will occur naturally.

Until next time, stay faithful.

Norm

THE PRIESTLESS PARISH - LUXURIES WE CAN'T AFFORD

Note:  Christianity is entering a post-Christian era. This has caused some concern among church-attending Christians as the number of attendees are dropping in smaller parishes; particularly, in the United States of America where financial support is totally dependents upon a church's membership. The following posts will address various factor affecting the small parish as a call to make sweeping changes to the structure of organized religion both here in the United State and world-wide.

THE PARISH

By definition a parish is an administrative term used by Christian denominations to define an area that has a church and a priest or a pastor.   Increasingly, however, such parishes consist of fewer parishioners.  In the United States, Christian parishes or congregations are self-supporting and rely on the parish's membership for financial viability.  Affording full-time clergy is no longer possible for most small parishes; particularly, in countries like the United States.  

Added to that is a dwindling amount of ordained clergy.  Even if a small parish could afford a full-time pastor or priest, the likelihood of attracting a newly ordained or attracting one from a well established parish is becoming a near impossibility.  The most a small parish can hope for is either finding a priest who is covering several parishes or finding a half-time or quarter-time priest.

I began writing this post a year ago last August when the small Episcopal parish I belong to was on the verge of losing our three-quarters time rector to retirement; a priest who had served us for over seventeen years.   Since his retirement, I have been serving on our parish's search committee trying to discern how to proceed.

Like many small parishes that comprise an aging population and have become reliant on interest from invested reserve funds to make ends meet, our little parish no longer can generate enough income from its pledges and offerings to afford a full-time or a half-time priest without digging into investment principal and risk rapid depletion of that monetary source.  We're not alone in this situation. 

LUXURIES WE CAN'T AFFORD

Ordained clergy are becoming a luxury many small parishes cannot afford.  I know something about luxuries small congregations cannot afford because I'm one of them.  I'm my church's organist.  I've been the organist at my church for the past twenty years.  For about half that time I received a small stipend of appreciation to keep me tethered to the organ bench.

When it became apparent that our parish was beginning to struggle financially, I was among the first to say I'd offer my services freely and have done so since that time.  I have never regretted doing so and rather enjoy the sense of having lost the tether.  In my part of the country, most organists probably are in  the same situation.  I also suspect organists are a rarer specimen in a church's ecosystem than clergy.  Fewer people are taking up the King of Instruments nowadays.

The trend is that priests and other ordained clergy are headed in the same direction of ecclesial extinction as organists.   Seminaries are closing as fast as organ programs in university music departments.  The mainline church environment is changing fast; where the term "climate change" has taken on a whole new meaning as small congregations are losing body heat due to membership decline and are dying from demographic hypothermia.

Traditionally, the answer to these problems has always been "Get a priest or minister; one way or the other: full-time, part-time or an occasional supply priest/minister. It doesn't matter. Just get one!"

The dependency on ordained clergy in mainline denominations as the mains source of leadership remains extremely high; even as the number of ordained clergy are declining as a result of their aging out and the fact that younger people are showing less interest in entering traditional Holy Orders or ordination. 

In my neck of the woods, there are few Episcopal churches to draw from; thus, not an abundance of Episcopal clergy to spread around. We do have the option of appealing to the clergy from the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America for assistance, but, at present, this has not been seriously considered  Besides, the ELCA is facing the same problems with regard to supplying pastors as the Episcopal Church is having with supplying priest.  Being in the Dakotas is not a big draw to those ordained clergy who can pick and choose parishes that are more financially lucrative and more stable than ours.

Some might question, "Where's your faith, man?  God will provide."   As a person called to discern where God is leading our parish, I have no doubt God will provide. The question is what is God providing and where are we headed?

For me, the current moment is an opportunity to ponder the possibilities this juncture in our parish's life offers.   A host of "what if" questions emerge as time goes on.  Our parish's limited financial and human resources puts on equal footing two diametrically opposed questions: "What if we don't get a priest?" with "What if we do?" 

It is one thing to close the doors of a church because a small parish really can't afford to pay for the upkeep. It's quite different thing to say that if or because we can't afford a priest or minister we will be losing our church and cease being a parish.    It seems to me, at least, that now is the time to think differently about the role of our congregation in community life before those become our only options.

* * * * * * * * * * 

All Christian denominations are hierarchal in structure; from those claiming to be independent to those long established and identified as catholic and orthodox.  There is no way to avoid the human proclivity to order things by rank.  The longer an institution exists the more prone to order its structure along hierarchal lines.  

Organized Christianity has been around for over two thousand years.  Two thousand years of organizing and reorganizing the structure of the Church has seen the Church evolve from a seemingly subversive movement that defied imperial rule to becoming an imperial realm in its own right, known as Christendom.  It has evolved from a being a church hiding out in catacombs to a church that builds basilicas and cathedrals throughout the world. 

Everything on this planet is subject to change.  This includes the Church, as a whole.   The weight of its varied structures and its inability throughout the centuries to deal with changes brought about by scientific understanding and social development which have challenged its traditional ways is forcing it to buckle under its own weight and shrink.

The loss of influence that  Christianity has on culture, government, politics, and society in general is like watching a glacier melt quickly into a multitude of easily forded streams.  This is acutely and readily observed at the local level, where the local church no longer holds the importance in maintaining a sense of civil order it once had; where membership in a mainline denomination is no longer a prerequisite for attaining or maintaining social status.  It is the small parish, like an endangered species in a rainforest, that demonstrates an environmental shift in the political and social climate in which these parishes exist by their increasing disappearance.

* * * * * * * * * *

As my small Episcopal parish is coping with the reality that it may not be able to afford the luxury of a full-time rector (priest) for the long run, it nevertheless has opted to search for one in the hope of that doing so will result in finding a priest who will either be so dynamic a leader who increases the size of our small flock or who will so inspire our small flock to bring others into our small church from our community.  It seems that few have really considered the ramifications of such an undertaking or have no other alternatives in mind but to think in such terms.  

In filling out a questionnaire that our diocese has requested we do to draw candidate consideration, I ran across one of the question that gave me pause, "How are you (our small parish) preparing for the Church of the future?" 

I found that such an interesting question that it begs several questions. For instance, one question that immediately came to mind was,"What has the dioceses been doing to prepare small parishes like ours to prepare for the situation we are now facing?"   Apart from dwindling our resources on a full-time or part-time priest that may or may not increase our parish's viability, "What other models of leadership and parish viability exist that we can explore?"

Pondering such questions and the dwindling situations the small parish or congregation finds itself in will be the focus of future posts. 


Until next time, stay faithful.

Norm

THE BAPTISM OF OUR LORD - A Homily

This homily was preached at Christ Episcopal Church, Yankton, South Dakota on January 13, 2019

                      

“He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.  His winnowing-fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing-floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” Luke 3:16b-17 

After Christmas and Epiphany, a Sunday commemorating the Baptism of Jesus may strike us as a bit ho-hum – nothing too much to celebrate that’s new.  Jesus being declared God’s Son has been the topic for the past three weeks.  In order for us to think differently about Jesus’ baptism, let’s consider this rather atypical description of Jesus as a spiritual arsonist and someone who is going to beat the chaff out of us.

The implied question being asked is “Are we ready for a workout?”

As we ponder that question, we have an opportunity to examine our own baptismal covenants in the light of Jesus’ baptism and what it means when we say that sacraments are a means of grace.  Beginning with the word, “covenant,” a word used throughout the Bible, we know that a covenant is a binding agreement between two or more parties. Where covenants are concerned in the Hebrew Scriptures, we observe that it is God who initiates them.

In Genesis, God says to Noah, after the flood, “I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants”[1] (everyone since that time).  After which, a rainbow appears.  If you know this story, you cannot help but think about God and this covenant every time a rainbow appears.

Then there is the covenant that God made with Abraham, “This shall be my covenant with you:  You shall be the ancestor of a multitude of nations.”[2]  Most notably, there is the covenant that God made with the people of Israel in the wilderness of which Moses says, “He (God) declared to you his covenant, which he charged you to observe; that is, the Ten Commandments…” [3]

In essence, God’s covenants are about keeping God in mind; that by keeping God in mind is also God’s way of keeping us in line, saving us from ourselves. What becomes evident is that what God is after, what God wants from these covenantal relationship is foremost an identified relationship, to be recognized as the faithful God of love.

Prophets like Jeremiah saw a time when God would make a new covenant with the House of Israel in which God would implant he law into people and write it upon their hears.  Jeremiah writes, “No longer shall each man teach his neighbor and each his brother saying, ‘Know the Lord’ for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord, for I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more.”[4]

We Christians recognize that as grace, which brings us to the baptism of Jesus.

John the Baptizer used baptism as a way to reorient his audience to God’s covenantal relationship with them by washing their sinful desires away in the waters of the Jordan and sending them downstream to the Dead Sea – an apt destination.  Jesus’ approach to John’s baptism was a much deeper undertaking and John knew it:

“I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals.”[5]

When Jesus entered the troubled waters of John’s baptism, Jesus does so as a child of Abraham, as one who embodied the law of God’s love and held it in his heart.  When Jesus waded into the waters of baptism, he was offering himself up to a process of formation called kenosis (the complete emptying of self).  He did so not to turn away from sin, but rather to take it on, to drench himself in the frailty of humanity that had pooled in those waters; to initiate our side of the covenant, to fulfill the covenant of God’s love for this world, to say yes to God.

When Jesus emerged from his baptism, drenched in the waters of our shared humanity, John sees the Holy Spirit descend on him like a dove and Jesus gets lit up with zeal for all of God’s people, for us.  Jesus becomes a living sacrifice to God and God accepts the condition Jesus presents, the fullness of human love for God and God says YES – “You are my Son, My Beloved.  In you I am well-pleased.” [6]

That was the BEGINNING.  The baptism of Jesus became the means to begin his ministry, not the end.  Jesus did not sit back and say, “It’s all good now – DONE!”  

As the Gospel of Mark points out, “The Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness”[7] – that great metaphor for life’s challenges.  Throughout Jesus’ ministry, he lived into being both the Son of Man and the Son of God in his total love for God and in his total love for that which God loves.  His faithfulness drew the faith of the others.  Jesus was often surprised by the faith he encountered in people; especially, when it came from unexpected places like a Roman Centurion, a Syrophonecian woman, and a Samaritan Leper.[8]  

Jesus gave shape to this new covenant of Love throughout his ministry which came to full form on the cross and affirmed in his resurrection.  Jesus’ ministry was a workout of faith from the moment he emerged from the waters of his baptism.  Jesus did not take being identified as God’s Son for granted.[9] He lived into it, worked through it, became it every step of his earthly journey and this is why listening to the stories of his ministry is important because they apply to what we experience today – they show us the way.

As the ministry of Jesus began at his baptism, so does ours.  Unfortunately, Baptism has been subjected to placing the emphasis on the wrong theological syllable.  For instance, there is a belief that Baptism makes one a child of God.  Scripture points out that every living human is a child of God; that every person is made in the image of God, carries the kernel of that image in them, but not every person knows that or is told that.  If people don’t know that or aren’t told that or aren't told it frequently, they don’t know or they forget and are deprived of the means of grace that we have access to.

Like Jesus’ baptism, our baptism is about recognition.  It’s starting a process that rids us of the chaff hiding the kernel of our true being as a daughter or a son of God; as co-heirs with Christ.  Baptism is about being lit with the fire of the Holy Spirit that will keep the chaff away.

Baptism is our entry into the faith of Christ and into our formation as members of Christ’s body.  Baptism is a means of grace, a way for faith to grow; a way for grace to become manifest in our lives.  

As defined by our catechism, “Grace is God’s favor towards us, unearned and undeserved, by grace God forgives our sins, enlightens our minds, stirs our hearts, and strengthens our wills.” [10] When we talk about the means of grace, we’re talking about something that keeps the love of God in the forefront of our hearts and minds.  It is an abuse of this sacrament to think of Baptism as a “Get out of Hell” card or a passport into Heaven.  Baptism is the starting point, not the finishing point of our relationship with God in this life’s journey, and it needs to be exercised and nourished through word and sacrament along the way.  

The sad fact is that some who have been baptized see Baptism as the end game; as if there is nothing more to do – Saved by Grace!  That’s true, that’s the endgame, but a means is never an end.  The sacraments are a means, a way, to keep the end in sight throughout life’s journey.  

As far as I can tell, God never called anyone to become a spiritual couch potato when it comes to faith.  Yes, God redeems the whole world, but sitting around waiting for that to happen won’t make life’s challenges any easier and it runs the risk of becoming more chaff than kernel.   As the Letter of James point out, faith that is not put to work; faith that is not developing will die.[11]

Engaging the world we live in is a workout.  Without faith, it will wear us down and wear us out.  With faith it will build us up and restore us to life.  

Jesus is our path of faith, our spiritual guide, and our trainer for living deeply into our covenantal relationship with God, and this place (our church) is our spiritual gym, the place where we start each week stretching our hearts and minds.

May God’s grace strengthen our faith and build us in love through Christ our Lord.   Amen.

* * * * * * * * * * 

Until next time, stay faithful.

---

[1] Genesis 9:9

[2] Genesis 17:4

[3] Deuteronomy 4:13

[4] Jeremiah 31:31-34

[5] Luke 3:16a

[6] Luke 3:22b.

[7] Mark 1:12

[8] See Luke 7:1-10; Mark 7:24-30; Luke 17:11-19

[9] See Philippians 2:5-8

[10] “The Book of common Prayer,” The Hymnal Corporation, New York, New York, Page 858

[11] James 2:26

                       

ADVENT: THE SEASON OF BECOMING - A Homily

This homily was delivered at Christ Episcopal Church, Yankton South Dakota on December 9, 2018

+ In the name of our gracious and life-giving Lord, who was, who is, and is to come.  Amen +

Originally, I was scheduled to give the homily last week, but winter weather in our beloved state has a way of changing plans. So, I’m going to attempt to merge last week’s homily with this week’s lessons as a way to connect some theological dots found in this season of Advent.

Advent is my favorite season of the Church Year; in part, because Advent invites one to ponder one’s personal existence as an expression of God’s wholeness, God’s completed creation, in the light of a series of discrete events that took place some two thousand years ago.  Every new Church Year, every first Sunday of Advent begins with a Gospel reading from either Matthew, Mark or Luke in which Jesus is talking to his disciples about the passing away of everything we see – Heaven and Earth – EVERYTHING! 

Everything; that is, except the words of God, the creative utterances of God, God’s creative energy.

On the first Sunday of Advent, we also ponder the coming of Jesus, the Son of Man as the risen Christ, the King of Glory, who comes to bring about the new creation of which this risen Christ is called the first fruit by St. Paul.  If we go back to the Sunday before last, to Christ the King Sunday, we hear these words, “’I am the Alpha and the Omega,’ says the Lord God, who is and who was, and who is to come, the Almighty.” [1] 

When you put this all together what one finds is that right now we’re in the middle of God’s creative now; that we’re encapsulated by this Alpha and Omega, or to put it into Paul’s borrowed definition from the ancient Greek and Cretan poets, “For in Him (God) we live and move and have our being.”[2] 

Given that God, that Christ is the Alpha and the Omega, the total completion of all that is, then the passing away language of scripture is not about a dead end, but about a transformative journey towards completion, on this side of life. 

The Jesuit priest and paleontologist, Pierre, Teilhard de Chardin described the destination of this journey; the destination of the cosmos towards completion as the Omega Point[3] – a point, according to scripture, that already exists.  But just as we cannot see the curvature of the earth from where we stand on the earth, we cannot see the totality of life, of God’s completed creation from our transitory situation on this side of life, in our current existence.

So Advent isn’t just about what came or what’s coming around the bend, it’s also about our becoming, our journey to completion in the here and now.  And if that leaves our minds spinning and if we find it hard to wrap our heads around all of this, God helps us out by giving us something, or better yet, someone we can relate to and not only wrap our minds around but our hearts also – a small, vulnerable baby boy, born in a barn, named Jesus who came into this transitory world as the enfleshed source of our being.  

It’s in Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection that we can see the light at the end of this journey, the light of salvation – the completion, the Omega Point.

Now that’s a lot of theology in a few short statements, but that’s where Advent begins - So back to where we are today on this Second Sunday of Advent.  In today’s Gospel, we are reintroduced to our friend, the prophet, John the Baptizer, best known as the prophet who sees Jesus for who he is, the Son of God. 

The role of a prophet is largely to point out the ignored obvious, to speak truth to the powers of this world, and to help us clear away the clutter in our lives in order to make our journey easier.  As our reading from Baruch this morning points out, prophets carry out God’s order “that every high mountain and the everlasting hills be made low and the valleys filled up, to make level ground, so that Israel (all of us) may walk safely in the glory of God.”[4] 

Every true prophet, from the likes of Moses and John the Baptizer to Martin Luther King Jr. have the ability to see the trajectory of this transitory life leading to and completed in the Omega Point of salvation.  Every true prophet, in every generation, becomes a voice crying out in this wilderness called life a message of hope that prepares the way of the Lord or, as our Presiding Bishop, Michael Curry likes to call it, “The way of Love” so that all flesh, all of God’s children can see the salvation of God; can see our completion in Christ.

John certainly played that role, and it is John, who in the case of Jesus, was able to see something that wasn’t so obvious, something that was forgotten, something that was unthinkable at the time; the intimate nearness of God – God with us – God in us – God through us – as experienced and witnessed in the person of Jesus; in the personhood of Christ, what Jesus called the Kingdom or Reign of God.

God sent forth prophets like John in times of need, even when we’re not personally cognizant of having a need.  The prophet’s call to repent is to wake us up, to see our derailment from the way of love, to straighten out our act, to turn to the source of our being, to embrace the humility that comes through the recognition that we are part of and dependent on something much larger than ourselves.

The prophet’s voice gives voice to God’s loving, creative utterances that embrace us and keep us safe.  The prophet reminds us to walk with the God who walks with us and to exercise a justice that is grounded in God’s love for all creation.

Advent reminds us of these things as we call to mind the prophet, John the Baptizer.

Jesus, too, is a prophet.

As Jesus reminded his disciple, when talking about the passing of all things and the tribulations that every generation endures, not to fret; not to get bothered by them, but rather to exercise patience (often easier said than done) because Jesus says that patience deepens us, makes us more soulful.[5]

This short season of Advent is a pause between what is coming and what has been, to put us for a brief moment in the creative now of God, to still us and to deepen us through patience on our journey, led by Jesus to the point of completion.  Most importantly, Advent provides us needed time to reflect on our becoming, both as individuals and as a church – to see in the birth of Jesus and the coming of Jesus, the Christ, the immense embrace of God’s complete love for all of us. 

The birthday of Jesus is, in many ways, the birthday of us all, as our Creed reminds us, “Through him all things were made.”  So while we wait to celebrate the birthday of Jesus this Advent season, allow me to close with a poem I composed on Christmas Eve, ten years ago:

                                                 

Now the waiting time is done,

Earth’s long winter overcome,

Light illuminating darkest skies.

Weary people, now arise and

Greet this time, it has no end

Alpha-Omega enters in.

Let hearts be filled with Christmas light

For in the Child’s approach this night

It is we who arrive, Love’s greatest delight.[6]

Amen.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Until next time, stay faithful.

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[1] Revelation1:8 and referenced again as Christ in Revelation 22:13

[2] Acts 17:28

[3] A term first coined by Teilhard de Chardin in his book “The Phenomenon of Man.”

[4] Baruch 5:7

[5] References King James translation of Luke 21:19 – “In your patience possess ye your souls.”

[6] Composed December 24, 2008 as I was waiting to play the organ between a 5 PM and an 11 PM service.