Remembering; Easter 3B (April 22, 2012)

1 John 3:1-4, 7
See what love God has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know God. Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when God is revealed, we will be like God, for we will see God as God is. Little children, let no one deceive you. Everyone who does what is right is righteous, just as God is righteous.

Luke 24:36b-48
Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost. He said to them, “Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.” And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, “Have you anything here to eat?” They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate in their presence. Then he said to them, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you—that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.” Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures, and he said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. And see, I am sending upon you what my Father promised; so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.” 

***

Will you pray with me? God of all times and places, we remember your child Jesus today—and all your children who were killed because of who they were. Open our hearts and spirits to recognise their presence in us and among us, that we may be your true children, showing Jesus’ face, Jesus’ love, and Jesus’ presence to the world. In all your names, amen.

  

The Shoah—the Holocaust. Most of you are aware of the program of the Nazis in World War II, their plan to exterminate—their term—all Jews from the lands occupied by the German nation. Not only Jews, of course—but also gay men, Jehovah’s Witnesses, clergy, socialists, sex workers, lesbians, intellectuals, Roma (or gypsies), and the disabled—whether physically disabled, developmentally delayed, or mentally ill. Those who could not work—whether because of disability or age—were called “useless eaters” by the Nazi regime and marked for death. Others were singled out because they were considered a threat to the “perfect Aryan nation” Adolf Hitler wanted to create. Thus, those who did not fit into the Nazi vision of the “master race,” were to be eliminated—because they were antisocial, such as gay men and lesbians, because they would not bear children; or the clergy, because they taught people that there is more to life than what we see; or they offered an alternative vision of society, such as the socialists. But the largest part of the Nazi hatred was aimed at the Jewish people—because they were viewed as an alien nation within the German nation. The Nazis used the traditional Christian anti-Semitism, of course—that the Jews had killed Christ—but they also pointed out that Christianity—which was also seen as a foreign importation, something alien to the German-Aryan race—was derived from Judaism, which they called a gutter religion.  They continued on this genocidal path even when it was against their best interests, when it used resources (soldiers, trains, etc.) that they needed to continue to fight the Allis.

It is a dreadful history. There are many books that have been written about that time, both by historians and by the survivors—and one or two by people who did not survive. The Diary of Ann Frank, Night, The Hiding Place—many of you have read these. It has been central to my theology, to my formulation of an understanding of who God is and what God does and does not do. I have had Jewish friends all my life, and have read about and studied the Shoah since I read the Diary of Ann Frank in high school. In seminary, when we were required to take an immersion trip to study another culture, I chose to visit Poland and study Christian theology in the light of the Shoah. It led to my taking courses in Jewish theology and an independent study in Christian anti-Semitism. It is safe to say that these events that took place well before I was born had a profound impact on my personal life and theology.

One of the issues that I found myself pondering as I visited the Warsaw ghetto, the last remaining synagogue in Warsaw, the camps at Treblinka and Auschwitz, and other sites, was how I would have behaved, in that time and place. I want to  think I would have done something—protested, worked in the underground, hidden people, helped them escape, something. But would I have? That is the doubt that is ever present in my mind. Speaking truth to power is a frightening thing; it can get you killed. Would I have had the courage of a Father Kolbe, who voluntarily took the place of a Jew who was to be executed? Father Kolbe was starved to death at Auschwitz. Or the heart and wisdom of Corrie ten Boom, the young Dutch woman whose family hid hundreds of Jewish refugees, passing them through a network of escape. Or even the courage of so many rural families in Poland, Germany, and Eastern Europe, who smuggled food to people hiding out in the forests and farm outbuildings?

I have to stand here and tell you I do not know if I would have had that courage. I do not know if I could have taken that risk, offered my life, in effect. I want very much to think I would—and yet I know the power of fear, fear of death, fear of ostracism, fear of failing. 

And then there is this—I might not have had a choice. If I had lived in Germany or German-occupied lands, I might very well have been one of the millions with a triangle whom we have lost. I probably would not have been clergy, given the fact that few churches in Europe ordained women in the 1930s, but on the other hand, I might have been a nun—and they were counted as clergy. Or perhaps I would have been included with the women who loved women, and were marked with the black triangle. Or maybe the purple triangle of the pacifists and Jehovah’s Witnesses. Probably every one of us here would have been classified into one or more of those groups, those set apart by the triangle.

On the actual day of Yom HaShoah this year, many people changed their Facebook profile picture to that of someone killed by the Nazis—a family member perhaps, a resistance fighter, a face they found on the internet that haunted them. For a day, all those dead, those executed simply for who they were, populated Facebook. They were remembered. As long as we remember them, we can embody them—and therefore they do not die.

In the same way, as we remember Jesus, we embody Christ. Jesus Christ is present in our hands, outstretched to help others, loving others, and in this meal called communion that we share with each other.  We do not forget him; and he lives in our love, our forgiveness of others, our generosity of heart. Other people know Christ through us, our actions—or lack thereof—our lives. As we share Christ, not only in words, but in the open hands of grace, we remember him, he is with us, and he lives.

The ones we remember are always with us. Whether a person died on a hillside near Jerusalem two thousand years ago, seventy years ago in a German gas chamber, or a year ago—as long as we remember them, as long as we embody them in action, in thought, and in love, they live.

We remember. We remember. We remember. Amen.

Yom HaShoah Prayer 2012

Today we remember the brutal murder of millions by the Nazis in what has been called the Holocaust, or Shoah, which means calamity. The best known and most systematically hunted down and killed were the Jewish people of Europe—from Poland to Italy, from Holland to Romania and Russia. Others were also rounded up—starved and worked to death, or executed in the gas chambers—Jehovah’s Witnesses, clergy of all religions, Poles, gay men, lesbians, Socialists, physically or mentally disabled persons, union organizers…anyone who threatened the power of the Nazis and their fantasy of world domination. A popular slogan of remembrance, engraved on the memorials of many of the concentration camps, reads, “Never again.” And yet genocide and mass killings continue—in Cambodia, in Darfur, in Eastern Europe. It is a goal, not yet achieved as long as any nation is able to destroy a class, a tribe, a group without fear of retribution. We remember today the lost of the Shoah of 1939-1945.

(as a different person reads each line, they light the candle of that colour)

In memory of the Jewish people who wore the yellow triangle;

In memory of the clergy of all religions, who wore the red triangle;

In memory of the gay men, who wore the pink triangle;

In memory of the Jehovah’s Witnesses, pacifists, and Baha’i members, who wore the purple triangle;

In memory of the lesbians, sex workers, addicts, and others considered a threat to society, who wore a black triangle;

In memory of immigrants, who wore a blue triangle;

In memory of the Roma, or Gypsies, who wore a brown triangle;

In memory of the physically or mentally disabled people, who wore no triangle because they did not survive to be interned in the camps. (white)

We acknowledge the times we have kept silent when we should have spoken; and we remember those who resisted and those who rescued.

In honour of the resisters and rescuers. (rainbow)

(Moment of silence)

We light these candles as a memorial and a witness that we will remember and not forget; that we will work for peace, justice, freedom and life for all God’s children. God in your mercy, give us courage and strength to resist evil in all its forms, even the most attractive and innocent-appearing. Give us grace to protest evil and promote goodness, to protect and heal and comfort all in need. May all that we say and do be for good and not for evil, that one day we may truly say, “Never again.” Amen.

Memories of the Heart, Christmas Eve 2011

Luke 2:8-20
In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of God stood before them, and the glory of God shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is the Messiah, the Holy One. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom God favours!” When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which God has made known to us.” So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

“Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.”

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day are times of memory, of remembering, of pondering those things in our hearts. It’s a bittersweet time, when we remember and miss members of our family and friends who are no longer part of our celebrations through death, divorce, a move—the inevitable changes of life.  And yet those memories sustain us; it is through those memories that we truly keep those people, places, times in our lives. Some of our memories are sad or angry, coloured by pain or betrayal; we choose to let go of the painful memories, to free ourselves of that grief. We don’t lose the memories, but we lose the pain. By remembering the times and people and places no longer in our lives, we help keep them alive.

When “the last surviving” person who participated in an historic event dies, it is news because we no longer have a living memory on earth of that event—the last survivor of the American Civil War, for example, or of the Shackleton expedition, or—someday—the last member of the Beatles, or the last WWII soldier.

There’s something vital about memory, and so many things can provoke it.  The other day I was browsing a gift shop, picked up a lavender sachet—and was instantly in my grandmother’s arms. She loved lavender. The sight of a certain Christmas cookie my family makes brings me back to the family kitchen, learning to bake those cookies—the sounds of the record player—that’s a forerunner to the CD player and MP3 player, to you young ones—my sisters, the tree, our dog—all come back very vividly.

I think one of the most interesting links for memory is between music and words in song. If I am trying to remember the words to a song, the easiest way is to sing it. There is a connection, a neurological connection, in our brain, between music and words. They are intimately connected and when you learn one in association with the other, it can be very difficult to disconnect them. I first learned the words in the passage John read as part of Handel’s Messiah—and now when I read them, I hear that stirring music in my head—and it is difficult for me to not sing them!

Memory is at the heart of all we do in worship. We remember in an individual sense—the Prayer Jesus Taught Us—the Lord’s Prayer—the creeds, many of the hymns. But we also remember in a larger sense—as a congregation, a community—and we also remember as a church. We remember. The Hebrew tradition is full of acts of memory—the histories, the retelling of the exodus story every year at Passover, the reminder to “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Paul tells his readers to remember all that they have learned.  At the Last Supper, Jesus said, “Do this in remembrance of me.”

“And Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.”

These memories give shape and purpose to our lives—we remember, and so we name children after family and friends who have died; we tell stories of Great-Aunt Doris, we hold All Saints services, AIDS memorial services, we walk in the Relay for Life, we keep the Sabbath day, we sing Christmas carols, we take bread and we remember.

Remember this Christmas season—remember what you have heard tonight—how Mary and Joseph travelled to a crowded city, managed to find a sheltered place for Mary to give birth, and were welcomed by the locals, the shepherds, who listened to the angels and remembered what they were told; remember the joy and hope, remember.  Remember what we do tonight—light candles to drive away darkness, sing songs of promises fulfilled, share in the presence of those we love and those we do not even know, share the feast of God at God’s own table. Treasure all these things, and keep them in your hearts. In all God’s names, amen.

“Not What You Expected” December 18, 2011 (Advent 4A)

 Luke 1:26-38

In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! God is with you.” But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favour with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a child, whom you will name Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Child of the Most High, and  God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his realm there will be no end.” Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Child of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.” Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her. 

*** 

Will you pray with me? Gracious God of good surprises, give us wisdom to see your gifts in all things, even when we don’t believe you could possibly be a part of our lives, when what has happened seems so far from what you would want or desire for our lives. Open our eyes and hearts to your grace, not only in the little happenings of our lives, but in your greatest gift to us, your Child, Jesus the Christ. Amen.

 Travelling! We’ve been on a journey the last few weeks, and now we are at our destination. We have arrived!  But is what we were looking for? Is it what we thought we wanted?

We are going into a difficult time of year for me—winter. I’ve never been officially diagnosed with Seasonal Affective Disorder, but I think I might have a touch of it. Some of the most difficult experiences of my life have happened in the January – March timeframe, too, and so those months bring that pain and struggle back to mind. In February, especially, I find myself taking “cyber-vacations” to lush tropical islands by surfing all those hotel and B&B websites, fantasizing about being on those beaches, relaxing beside those pools, walking in those gorgeous gardens, enjoying the luscious meals they describe, experiencing the night life… But of course I have to wonder—is it really that good? Or are those descriptions like real-estate listings, where “cozy and intimate” means, “too small for more than one person?” Or “ideal for handyman” means “tear it down and start over?” Or “expansive lawns” means “get a goat and a couple of sheep to mow the grass?” I’ve read accounts of people who had that experience—the “full breakfast every day,” meant cold cereal and toast, lukewarm coffee and watery orange juice; where the rooms looked good in the pictures only because they were carefully prepped, and you couldn’t smell the musty odour from the closet. When I lived on the East Coast, we knew the code for beach hotels—“beach front” meant across the street from the beach, “beach views” meant that if you craned your neck around the balcony you could catch a glimpse of the beach,” only “on the beach” really meant that your windows looked out on the beach. But if you didn’t know the code, you could be sadly disappointed—you didn’t get what you expected.

On the other hand, there’s the other experience as well—when you go somewhere not expecting much and are surprised. A few years ago I was looking for a place to go on a retreat by myself. I didn’t want anything organised or planned—I had my own reading and praying and thinking to do, and I didn’t need guidance on it. I just wanted a quiet place in the country where I could stay, where I could feel God’s presence, where I could leave behind my responsibilities and simply be open to God’s moving in my life. I found several places but most of them were places where you had to meet with a spiritual director to plan even a solo retreat, or they were too close to a city or too expensive or too primitive or too far away…none were quite what I wanted. But then I found a location that I thought would do. Absolutely nothing was specifically organized for people staying there—yoga or art classes and prayer services were sometimes offered in the evenings, but each person was free to go or not as they wished. Everyone had their own cottage, and did their own cooking, so you never had to deal with another person if you didn’t want to. On the other hand…the cottages looked a little close together, and then I also wondered about how I would fill up all the time, and it was still three hours away, but it seemed the best choice. It was not what I expected. Simple cottages the size of a bachelor apartment, set in the woods around a field and arranged so that you didn’t see most of the other cottages, gardens and woods and pathways to walk and explore, a good library at the main building, quiet, and solitude that was respected. It was everything that I wanted and needed, but it was not what I expected.

Mary couldn’t have known what to expect. I mean, simply the fact of an angel showing up must have been confusing—to start with, how did she know it was an angel? We always think of angels as having wings and flowing hair, but certainly not all of them do—especially the ones we meet here on Earth. And then the news—you’re going to have a baby! I’m sure that Mary did expect to have children—it was just part of a woman’s life in those days, like going to school these days. But as she points out—she’s never been with a man. Notice she doesn’t say that she isn’t married—which was the human scandal, that she was having a baby out of wedlock, and her fiancé was not the father. She probably would have been forgiven if Joseph had been the father—a lapse but a forgivable and very common one. I’ve seen statistics that show that in the 1700s, perhaps 25% of women were pregnant at marriage, as shown by the fact that their first children were born less than eight months after they were married.  So it was not really a big deal to simply be pregnant when she was married—but Joseph was not the father.  That was the difficulty and potential scandal. But Mary’s more focused on the hows, though—how can she become pregnant?

And I think she must have been thinking—anyone would be—“how can this be good? God is asking me to do this, so it must be all right, but how in the world can this be a good thing?”

One of my favourite new Christmas songs—not a traditional carol—is Mary Did You Know? by Clay Aiken, most famously sung by Kathy Mattea. I think anyone who has parented—which is all of us—can identify with the lyrics—we hold a baby and wonder what she or he be like as an adult, how we can help to raise him or her to be a loving, kind human being. And we wonder if Mary knew what we know--this infant, this tiny child is God incarnate. The last line especially, can bring me to tears—“The sleeping Child you're holding is the Great, I Am.”

There’s been a lot of debate and discussion about whether Mary is degraded or lifted up in this—whether she is seen as a walking womb, so to speak, or as a person with a choice and influence in the situation. Some people will even say that Mary was, in effect, raped by God—that she had no choice because God is in a position of authority over her and she doesn’t have the ability to say no to God. I think that view is totally wrong for two reasons. One is that this is not about biology—if we try to see this as a physical, biological process, we are on the wrong road. Yes, it is literal in that a baby was born, but if we try to see this too literally and try to figure out ways and means, we lose the meaning. Quite without human means, God came to earth as a baby. How God did that is not something that be explained or even discussed in human terms, anymore than we can discuss how God created the earth in literal human terms. Secondly, Mary did have a choice. We don’t read it in the way the angel makes the announcement—Gabriel seems to assume a lot—but Mary is not afraid to challenge the angel. She is not prepared to assume that this can just happen—she accepts it. We always see this in the Bible—an angel tells someone what God wants them to do—Isaiah in the temple being told to speak truth to power, David called to be a ruler, Moses told to go set God’s people free—and they consent. Every one of them says, “Yes, I will do what God asks of me.” They had a choice. We don’t know what would have happened if they said no—that’s not our story—but God would have made another way.

My point here, though, is that Mary said yes—even though she didn’t quite know what it was all about, she trusted that God had a purpose and a reason for asking her. She knew the difficulties ahead of her if she said yes—but she did.

And the result was not what she expected! Over and over again, God surprised her. Joseph did not abandon her. Her baby grew up to be a teacher and healer, not the carpenter she expected; nor did he simply gather students around him as would be expected of a teacher. He didn’t overthrow the Romans, as she must have thought the Messiah would. Jesus wasn’t rescued from the cross by an army of angels. And he didn’t stay in the tomb, either. Over and over God surprises her and us.

God does what God does, and that often upsets human expectations and wants. It’s not what we expected—but like the vacation that is even better than you expected and planned for, God’s surprises always bring us to be more of who we are, nourish us in ways we didn’t know we needed, and draw us closer to God.

No one who was looking for the Messiah, who was hoping for God’s help, who struggled under Rome’s rule, who looked at Israel’s history, could have guessed that God would choose this way to come to earth. As another new Christmas carol says, “What a strange way to save the world.” It is not what anyone expected.

In this season of surprises, remember God’s greatest unexpected gift of all—that baby, laid in a manger, who had come to be God with us, Emmanuel.  The gift you need from God will be given to you—but it will not be what you expect. It will be more than you ever hoped for or dreamed of.

In the name of the God who journeys with us, amen.

"In Reverse: God is Turning Things Upside Down" Advent 3B

Isaiah 61:1-11
The spirit of our God is upon me, because the Holy One has anointed me; God has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of God’s favour, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to provide for those who mourn in Zion— to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit. They will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Holy One, to display his glory.
They shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations. Strangers shall stand and feed your flocks, foreigners shall till your land and dress your vines; but you shall be called priests of the Holy One, you shall be named ministers of our God; you shall enjoy the wealth of the nations, and in their riches you shall glory. Because their shame was double, and dishonour was proclaimed as their lot, therefore they shall possess a double portion; everlasting joy shall be theirs. For I the Holy One love justice, I hate robbery and wrongdoing; I will faithfully give them their recompense, and I will make an everlasting covenant with them. Their descendants shall be known among the nations, and their offspring among the peoples; all who see them shall acknowledge that they are a people whom God has blessed. I will greatly rejoice in the Holy One, my whole being shall exult in my God, who has clothed me with the garments of salvation, and has covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels. For as the earth brings forth its shoots, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up, so God will cause righteousness and praise to spring up before all the nations.

John 1:6-28
There was one sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of humans, but of God. And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of an only son, full of grace and truth. (John testified to him and cried out, “This was he of whom I said, ‘He who comes after me ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’”) From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Child, who is close to the Creator’s heart, who has made him known.
This is the testimony given by John when the religious leaders sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, “Who are you?”
He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, “I am not the Messiah.”
And they asked him, “What then? Are you Elijah?”
He said, “I am not.”
“Are you the prophet?”
He answered, “No.”
Then they said to him, “Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?”
He said, “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of our God,’” as the prophet Isaiah said.
Now they had been sent from the Pharisees. They asked him, “Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?”
John answered them, “I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.” This took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was baptizing.
**

Will you pray with me? God who is present in all places and times, open our hearts to be aware of your presence in our lives today, here and now. Give us grace to accept your love for us, and the courage to share that love with others. In the name of your child, our saviour Christ, amen.

As I prepared for worship this week, I realized that we needed one more reading. It’s one of the suggested readings for this week in Advent, and in fact is the reading that gives it the name Rejoicing Sunday. This reading is from Luke 1, and is sometimes called the Magnificat, from the Latin for the first word, which means, “I will magnify.”

“Mary said, “My soul magnifies God, and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour, for the Holy One has looked with favour on the lowliness of God’s servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is God’s name. God’s mercy is for those who fear God from generation to generation. Almighty God has shown strength with God’s arm; and God has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.  The Holy One has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; and has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. God has helped God’s servant Israel, in remembrance of God’s mercy, according to the promise God made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

What an amazing affirmation to come from Mary! Remember, this is the young woman who was found to be pregnant before she was married, something so shameful that her fiancé, Joseph, who knew he had had nothing to do with her pregnancy, thought of breaking their engagement. She has been shamed, embarrassed. I can easily imagine the gossips of Nazareth looking down their noses at her and whispering as she passed. Remember, in those days, engagement was considered as binding as a marriage, and extra-marital affairs were punished by stoning. Women were essentially the property of the men in their lives—fathers, brothers, husbands, sons—and legitimacy of the children was very important in that culture.

So Mary has turned things upside down—and not in a good way for those around her! She is pregnant, but Joseph is not the father. He’s considering not marrying her after all, we read in another gospel, and he is only convinced to marry her anyway because of an angel in a dream. This is serious stuff!

And yet Mary is overjoyed to be expecting this baby—she sings this wonderful song of excitement and joy and praise to God, because she is expecting a baby who will do wonderful things for human beings. There will be a reversal of everything—the poor will be rich, the rich poor; the hungry will be full and those who have everything will have nothing. All that is wrong will become right, and those who have done what is wrong will get what they deserve. Everything will be turned inside out and fixed.

We’re talking about journeys this Advent… We’ve all had reverses in our travels, haven’t we? The luggage that’s lost, the car that breaks down, the child that gets sick, the map that wasn’t right—or maybe the GPS that we didn’t trust—the flights delayed or cancelled.  Sometimes those events make the rest of the trip even more important—the difficulties in getting home for a family Christmas make it even more special, the shared complications of a difficult trip bring out the best in our travelling companions. There’s a saying that if you really want to get to know someone, try building something with them or taking a trip with them! Those reversals help us to see what is good, and to appreciate what is good and right—sometimes only in hindsight, after it is all over, but those changes give us the opportunity to try again.

Remember in CS Lewis’s book—or maybe you’ve seen the movie—The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe that it was always winter and never Christmas, under the rule of the White Witch? But then Aslan, the son of the Emperor Across the Sea, arrives, and so does Father Christmas. The snow begins to melt, and the White Witch’s sleigh becomes useless; her powers wane away, in spite of her attempting to kill Aslan, and she is conquered. Aslan is a symbol of Christ in these novels; he is slain and rises again, he appears to several people throughout the series The Chronicles of Narnia, and he returns at the end.. When things begin to go backward—when the winter begins to fade—we know God is near.

And that’s what God is doing with the world in Jesus’ birth. God is rearranging the world, making the rich poor and vice versa. That reversal is in fact a very signal of God’s presence among us—when things start going backwards, we know God is present.

We can be at the very bottom of our well, no hope, no sight of a way out, desperate for another option, and certain this is the end, there is no solution—and it is in those moments that God comes to us and shows us how this upended life offers us a way, a new path.

I have been in this place. I was a destructive, abusive relationship with someone who denied that who I was, who I am, had validity or worth. I saw no way out. Because of circumstances—financial and personal—I felt that I was trapped. I saw no way out of this relationship, hellish as it was, even though it had scattered all my life-plans, all my hopes and plans and even my calling. When I saw no way, God sent a way—family members and dear friends who offered validation of who I was, encouragement as I struggled to find that way out, and support as I left the relationship and established myself again. It is no exaggeration to say that without those angels, those messengers from God, I would not be living out God’s purpose for my life. I would either be still in that destructive relationship or quite possibly dead. God sent me a way when I saw no way; God made that reversal possible.

We all have stories, or have heard stories, of people in similar circumstances—stripped of almost everything, without hope, utterly cast down. And then there’s a light, a hope—and that beam of hope becomes a rope to pull us out of that cast down place. Maybe it was financial straits, maybe it was a bad relationship, maybe it was loss of employment or income, maybe it was an addiction—whatever it was, God came to us in those times when everything we knew was in pieces around us…shattered, broken, scattered around us like so many shards of glass. The bits of our lives… But until we had come to that point, were we able to see and hear God’s guiding presence? If God had spoken to us one moment earlier, would we have heard? If we had known of God’s presence when things were just OK, would we have paid attention?

The power of God’s action in our lives comes from this fact—when life is at its worst, that is when God offers a reversal, a renewal—when things have most truly fallen apart, God’s grace comes to us, and offers a way when there seems to be no way.

Mary—pregnant when society said she should not be; the person struggling with addiction; the spouse caught in an abusive relationship; the worker in a dead-end job; the lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgendered teen of homophobic parents; the employee laid off two weeks before Christmas, the homeless family ….and then God’s presence is clear, and the reversal comes, and God’s purpose is worked out.

It doesn’t mean that everything goes back to the way it was before, or that all of life is now perfect—but it does mean that we are living our lives as God intended. We have seen the reversal God sent, and our lives are on the right road. We have found the right map, the car is repaired, our luggage is found.

And what else can we do but sing in joy?! Mary rejoices over God’s promises of the poor becoming wealthy, the empty full and satisfied, the ones who were cast down lifted up. We too celebrate—freedom from addiction, healing from abuse, new confidence in who we are, a new path of opportunity and hope… Indeed, what else can we do but celebrate?

Well, here’s something else we can do. We can stop to look at our own lives, and what part we truly play in the reversals of other people. Are we willing to admit that we, too, are a cause, sometimes, of those shattered lives? Or are we afraid to have our world turned upside down? Are we the poor who will hear the good news of reversal, or are we the ones responsible for their poverty? Are we the broken-hearted who will be healed, or have we broken their hearts? Are we the captives who will be freed, or are we the captors who have restrained them? On what side of the reversals do we find ourselves? Did we neglect to tag our luggage properly, to be sure the car engine was tuned up, to allow enough time between flights?

I think these are legitimate questions to ask. We cannot take on the blame for all the world’s ills, but we also have to admit that we are oppressors and deniers and unforgiving—just as much as we are oppressed and denied and unforgiven.

Yes, my former partner denied God’s image and action in me and in my life—but I too denied God’s presence in my life and calling and allowed my vocation to be denigrated. If I was belittled and put down, I also denied the truth of my life and of God’s action in me.

In this season of preparation for God’s arrival among us once again, as a tiny baby in a manger, it is time to examine our own hearts for God’s presence, our own actions for errors.

Which side of the reversals of others are we on? Are we casting them down—emptying them, refusing to forgive, taking all they have, not recognizing the image of God in them? Or are we lifting them up—sharing God’s grace, filling them with good things, forgiving, loving, supporting them as they seek to fulfill God’s purpose for them and for us?

While we rejoice in the good that has been done for us, we cannot forget that others too, need that hand, that blessing, that support or forgiveness or hope that we can offer them.

 This year, let’s put our lives into reverse—reverse the sorrow, dismay, despair, pain, hopelessness and fear and turn them into joy, hope, healing, peace, and comfort. Let’s recognise the reversals from hope to grief as well as from sorrow to joy—especially the ones we have had a part in—and then do something about it. And then we can all truly sing Joy to the World.

In the name of the God who travels with us, amen.