Sermon: Choral Mattins Advent 1

Preacher:

Date:

Sunday 1st December 2013

Service:

Choral Mattins

Readings:

Micah 4: 1-7

1 Thess 1: 11

Listen:

Download Recording (MP3, 13.9M)

Last Sunday, the Rector of Emmanuel Baltimore preached a challenging and inspiring sermon on gratitude: he wove together themes of thanksgiving with a vision of God's Kingdom.  Christ's reign, as he put it, is marked by justice, compassion and equity. It breaks into our lives now; we long for its fulfilment. 

Preparation for thanksgiving was therefore about far more than turkey and pumpkin pie. It involved a change of heart; it meant seeing the world through a different lens. It meant responding with compassion and joy - responding to God and to our neighbour - with all that we are, as well as all that we have.

That is a compelling vision.

But in our fragile and complex world, the day after Thanksgiving is Black Friday.  The BBC website listed ten things we Brits may not know about its origin: essentially a day of pre-Christmas, heavily discounted shopping.  The concept of Black Friday has made it across the Atlantic. From John Lewis to Amazon and Asda, stores are offering unbelievable deals on high end  products with 50% or more off the asking price. 

Shoppers stripped shelves; websites added to the psychological pressure with timers counting down the minutes until the sale ended. There was frenzy mayhem and even violence amidst the frantic scrambling and snatching at bargains.

How timely then, as we face this Advent Sunday, to read Pope Francis's Apostolic Exhortation: Evangelii Gaudium, The Joy of the Gospel.

In it he writes 'the great danger in today's world, pervaded as it is by consumerism, is the desolation and anguish born of a complacent yet covetous heart, the feverish pursuit of frivolous pleasures, and a blunted conscience.  Whenever our interior life becomes caught up in its own interests and concerns, there is no room for others, no place for the poor.  God's voice is no longer heard, the quiet joy of his love is no longer felt, and the desire to do good fades.'

Black Friday: the relentless and feverish pursuit of pleasure and possession. 

Advent Sunday: the beginning of a season of watching and waiting.

We now embrace a time of adjusting our eyes to see the glimmering light of God amidst the garish sparkles  of consumerism.

Pope Francis invites all Christians at this very moment, at the start of this new year, to  a renewed personal encounter with Jesus Christ.  An encounter which enables a dignified and fulfilled life. He invites us to take a risk; to step towards Jesus, only to find him waiting for us - before we are even aware that we are waiting for him. 

We are inspired and encouraged in that waiting by the prophets and by the epistles.  Advent Sunday marks the counting of days as space for reflection, than than a frenzy of shopping hours.  Days and weeks stretch out ahead of us.  We wait to celebrate with great joy the birth of our Saviour; but more than that we wait for his coming again, for the fulfilment of God's Kingdom.

We wait in expectation.  We wait for the day of the Lord.  In our second reading we are reminded that that day could come at any moment.  We are to live every moment in anticipation and preparation and readiness of his coming.  We are not to be complacent: our calling is to be children of the light and of the day. The one for whom we wait in birth has already wrought our salvation in death.  We are to keep awake; we are to be sober.  We are to live in faith, hope and love. In those words we are to find encouragement and are to encourage others.

Micah gives substance to such faith, hope and love made manifest in the establishment of God's Kingdom.  It is a vision which is radical in the particular and in the global; it is about place and about our movement in God's world. The house of the Lord will be raised up; and people will stream to it.  In that we are challenged in our vocation - why might streams of people stream up to Stag Hill?  Of course people will come for many reasons - concerts, fairs, exhibitions and dinners - and we welcome them.   However, the words on the lips of the pilgrims are quite clear; they come to the house of God, to worship; they come to be taught God's ways and walk in his paths, to learn.

Worship and learning are at the heart of this place: in praise, lament and silence we worship God; in art, conversation and teaching we learn together.  Worship and learning enable us to pursue wisdom; equipping us to walk in God's paths. Here God's voice is heard; the quiet joy of his presence is felt; the desire to do good is reignited.

The challenge of God's Kingdom is immense: it requires a transformation of our hearts, minds, actions and relationships. It is seen when swords and spears are beaten into ploughshares and pruning hooks, and when swords are laid aside. The ways of war are not to be learnt. Instead all people shall have a place to sit; a place where they eat the fruit of their own fig trees.  There is no more fear.

In God's Kingdom the weak and afflicted, those who have been marginalised and have no place will be gathered together.  It is out of that remnant that a strong and peaceable people will emerge.

Such a vision touches the core of our being and renews our longing: not for relentless acquisition but for a sustainable stability.  The season of waiting - in faith and hope and love - means adjusting our eyes to see the light of God and changing our habits to walk in his ways.  May this season become rich in meaning. Such meaning has a divine logic, in which we can participate. It is a logic expressed poetically by R. S. Thomas Kneeling. I will end with that poem because, in the words of Tim Williamson, it has 'a precise and radical imagination, and elegant and powerful form...  depth is achieved through scrupulous accuracy.'  May we hear this poem as our prayer this Advent:

Moments of great calm,
kneeling before an altar
of wood in a stone church
in summer, waiting for God
to speak; the air a staircase
for silence; the sun's light
ringing me, as though I acted
a great role. And the audiences
still; all that close throng
of spirits waiting, as I,
for the message.
Prompt me, God;
But not yet. When I speak,
though it be you who speak
through me, something is lost.
The meaning is in the waiting.