Christmas Eve

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

The Gospel reading brings us once again to the stable in Bethlehem. With the shepherds we hear the angels tell of wondrous things and in our minds eye and hearts journey we too go to the stable to see if all they said is true and upon finding it is so, worship.

They and we worship God in thanksgiving for a love so immense to join us in our humanity. It's hard to imagine what that means, that God becomes human, but there it is, the fact of this baby's birth who came to change the world. Even the most cynical of people has to admit that this baby did alter the course of human events, gave us a benchmark of life to measured before and after.

The Shepherds looked in the stable and saw the baby, and saw in the flesh their hope for a better world, a world of peace, a world without fear, a world in which the order they had only dreamed about was restored.

What do you see on this Christmas Eve night as you go to the stable and look over the sill into the life of the Holy Family. As Mary holds the baby to her, so new to the world and yet at the same time eternally ancient. As she holds this paradox, gurgling and vulnerable, what are we looking for? What hope resides in this little being for us?

I think we have endless expectations. For each of us in need, pain or fear we look to this baby as hope for a return to a normal way of life. A time when fear or grief or pain didn't exist. But if we look for that, I think we will be disappointed. God never, in all scriptures, goes backward to a time once inhabited, but rather leads people into a new place beyond the old world. Isaiah described it in this way, "The people in darkness have seen a great light." The light is a beacon to a place of new beginnings and new hope. A place to start again, where faith and intention can link and create new and healthy possibilities.

Perhaps that is always the best hope of all, that there will be a future. God's promise in all scripture is to open our eyes to see His love unfold among those who are open to it and allow themselves to be used for it. They spread the word, as the disciples of Jesus did later on, that God is in the world and active, living, breathing, and among us to bring us to a higher place.

This isn't always an easy message to hear. There is so much violence in the world -- physical, emotional, spiritual. War rages, terrorism infiltrates every corner of societies around the world. And terrorists are not just those in the Middle East who strap bombs to themselves. Terrorists exist right here in our own land, in gangs, organized crime, vigilantes, and those who discriminate against others preventing their employment, living situations, marriage rights, or any other immoral exercise of power.

We look to churches and houses of faith for comfort and direction and sadly even the church has it's struggles and divisions with varying degrees of pain and confusion.

It's precisely into this world that God comes in human form. Precisely to bring hope that is needed. The hope is to learn a way to live in this world peacefully and justly.

There is a story that after World War II, German students went to England to help rebuild a Cathedral that had been damaged in the German bombings. Among the rubble they found a statue of Jesus and as they worked on its repair, they were unable to find or restore the hands of the statue. They discussed the dilemma and decided to leave the hands off the statue, putting an inscription on the base that was inspired by the written works of St. Theresa of Avila in the late 1600's. They wrote, "Christ has no hands but ours."

The full text of St. Theresa's prayer goes like this:

Lord Christ, You have no body on earth but ours,
No hands but ours,
No feet but ours.
Ours are the eyes through which your compassion
Must look out on the world.
Ours are the feet by which you may still
Go about doing good.
Ours are the hands with which You bless people now.
Bless our minds and bodies,
That we may be a blessing to others.

The prayer is a beautiful gift given to us by St. Theresa. It gives expression and movement to the hope inside us to make the world better than it is.

We are the hands, the feet, the compassion and heart of God. It is that part of the spirit of God living within us that calls to be born, no screams out to be born and to grow. We are at our best when we give of ourselves, and God is able to use us each day to stand for justice and love in the worlds in which we live and move and have our being.

The true message of Christmas is perhaps not so much that God came into the world, but that God resides in each of us waiting to be born anew. St. Paul says that we are the temple of the Holy Spirit. If that is true, there is something of God in us that calls us into a deeper awareness of what it means to be alive.

One of the ministries at St. George's is healing prayer. It's doesn't have the flash and dazzle of crutches being tossed away, nor the sale of potions to cure any illness. It's a form of prayer that seeks to heal the spirit. I think most people have heard of the ways in which our emotional state can impact our physical state, for example one's anxiety can cause high blood pressure and it's related problems. Or stress can cause ulcers. There are many ways in which we can demonstrate the connection between body, mind and spirit. The healing prayer is a way of healing the spirit from pain and distress that may or may not have physical manifestations. Spiritual pain and illness is real in itself an in need of healing. The prayers for healing are offered after communion at a couple stations near the rail and if you haven't stopped by, I urge you to do so sometime. If you've never done this before, when you kneel at the prayer desk you can ask for a specific prayer about something that is on your mind or connected to someone you love. You may even just ask for a general prayer. Praying with and for each other is one of the main works of the church community. It is a sacrament of healing offered by and for people as children of God, loved by God and seeking to love God in as deep way as possible. Prayer honors the Spirit of God in each of us and as we are healed we can become healing agents in a world so much in need of it.

God came into the world to heal the world, and that baby in the manger is also born in us through our desire to be part of that healing. It is a wonder and a miracle. It is a blessing and a gift to be received and given freely. Amen.

© 2007 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Fourth Sunday of Advent

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

"Joseph, Son of David, do not be afraid..."

The Advent stories largely deal with the characters of John the Baptist and Mary. John, because he heralds the coming of the Christ as an adult and Mary because she said "Yes" when the angel came to announce that she would bear the child of God. In different times and different ways, these two characters fit so closely in theme to the coming of the Christ and the fulfillment of God's promise to the world.

This week in Advent another character takes the foreground. Joseph. Joseph is usually a shadow figure in the Gospels. He is referred to in only a few places, notably in the birth narratives escorting Mary to Bethlehem and being part of the caravan when Jesus was twelve and left behind by mistake in Jerusalem. He's never even given any lines. The most attention he is ever given is in this small story. And yet it is a rich story and tells us a lot about the man God entrusted to take care of Mary and Jesus.

Consider Joseph for a while. Traditions say that Joseph was probably older than Mary at the time of their engagement. As such he would have had more say in their wedding than Mary did in those days of arranged marriages. It's reasonable to assume that he wanted the marriage and was looking forward to it. It's also reasonable to imagine his shock, disappointment, and perhaps shame at the news of her pregnancy.

He could have reacted in different ways. He could have been enraged and had her stoned to death as an adulteress. It was within his rights and might have assuaged some sense of public humiliation. Just as she had a reputation, so did he. Her reputation was ruined by being pregnant before her marriage, but his could have been salvaged by some public and righteous outrage. Placing all the blame for this situation on her could have made him into the victim and allowed him to maintain some respect in the eyes of his neighbors.

It could have gone that way, but Matthew describes him as "righteous man." Being righteous he came to the merciful and loving decision to divorce her quietly. Others would no doubt find out about her pregnancy, but by then he would have been out of the picture, and safe from ridicule. It's clear from the decision he made that he truly loved her and wanted to see no harm come to her, not even at the expense of a contained scandal. For someone who cared that much, the decision had to be agonizing. Still, he made it in as merciful a way as he could and finally went to sleep.

The Bible has a long list of people who went to sleep and encountered God in their dreams. It's not hard to imagine. Sometimes our heads are so full of noise we wouldn't be able to hear God if we tried. Meditation practices even today are so hard because we have the voices and noise in our heads competing for attention. Thoughts like monkeys in the trees, as it's been said. We quiet down at night and when we're asleep the conscious thoughts take a break and the unconscious thoughts finally have a chance.

So, it seems, does God. There was another Joseph in the Bible for whom dreams were important. This Joseph, known to us as the one who was given a coat of many colors, also dreamed and interpreted dreams. I suspect the writer of Matthew thought of him as he wrote.

And an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, "Joseph, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins."

And Joseph did as the angel said.

Consider Joseph. He came to a crossroads and made a choice out of love for Mary and in faith that the angel who came to him in a dream was real and not some imaginary being or dream allegory. Just as Mary had come to a place of believing something utterly fantastic -- so did Joseph. Mary was called to bear the child. Joseph was called to protect and raise the child with her. He was called to adopt the child.

Some of you will remember that two of the Gospels include genealogies demonstrating Jesus' lineage since he was supposed to be a descendant of the great King David. The problem is that in both cases the genealogy leads to Joseph, not Mary, and we see the problem there. However in the law of the Israelites, even more so than our own culture, adoption was as good as blood relations. If a man claimed a child as his own, that sealed it. Joseph claimed Jesus as his son, and that made it so. It took courage for Joseph to do that and he did it.

The issue of adoption is one many of us can relate to. In this parish, indeed in all of Maplewood, there is a high proportion of adopted children. It is a wonderful and exciting characteristic of both parish and neighborhood. And the bonds of adoption are tight. When an adoptive parent says, "This is my daughter" or "This is my son," it is so. Adoptions come after much soul searching, discernment and total commitment to a radical lifestyle in every way that couples who choose to have children biologically make. It takes hard work to accomplish it and a commitment of time. When I was growing up, as I imagine many of you will remember, discovery that a child was adopted had a level of stigma attached. It was a secret shame in some respects or simply one of those things that wasn't talked about. The pride and love so evident and celebrated is a mark of how far we have come in valuing God's children from all over the world. So, three cheers for adoptive parents and adoptive communities that embrace them.

In this spirit, we see Joseph adopting Jesus and fully embracing him without fear or shame. And his life became determined by that decision.

Advent and Christmas are a time to consider this particular adoption, and perhaps like Joseph to wrestle with what it means to adopt Jesus into our family -- into ourselves- and change our lives. Having a child is not a part time job, neither is claiming one. The power of God's love is totally transforming and even when the full meaning of that reality is sometimes obscure, the life we live is a way of bringing clarity to that realization. The angel told Joseph not to be afraid and that same message is to us also. Do not be afraid to adopt this child, because it was conceived by the Holy Spirit and God is with you.

The methods of adopting in today's society are clear, even though lengthy and difficult. It's not always as clear about how to adopt Jesus. It comes first with a decision that it's time to embrace Him in what he taught us about God's love, acceptance and following a way of life that leads us to do what we believe to be just, merciful and humble. In our dealings with others and how we treat ourselves as brothers and sisters also loved and adopted by God. It's simple, but not always easy.

In one of his Epistles, Paul wrote that we are children of God's by adoption and grace. This theme clearly plays from time to time in scriptures and speaks to the closeness of the relationship between God and all God's children. We are truly and deeply loved by God. We are God's children though adoption called to enter a world of fantastic belief in the power of God's love and the leaving behind of the fear and shame that might prevent us from embracing it. Joseph does not need to be a figure who remains in the shadows, but one who is an important witness to the courage to adopt Jesus. Sometimes it is clear, sometimes there is a night of wrestling. Sometimes we fall and need to be reminded to try again and again if necessary, but not to give up. Angels are persistent, and they deliver the messages of a persistent God. Consider Joseph and adopt the baby. Do not be afraid. Amen.

© 2007 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Third Sunday of Advent

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

"Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?" This question from John the Baptist comes as a surprise. Earlier in the record of Matthew's gospel John met Jesus at the Jordan and baptized him. At that time he seemed to recognize Jesus as the Chosen One and in fact tried to prevent Jesus from being Baptized by him. He instead tried to have Jesus baptize him.

It was a wonderful moment of fulfillment. Jesus told him, "Let it be so now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness." Then John consented. He immersed Jesus in the waters of the Jordan river and as Jesus came back on the banks of the river the heavens opened and a voice was heard to say "This is my beloved son with whom I am well pleased."

This appearance of Jesus and brief encounter with John was full of the promise of the prophets. It was a time of announcement and discovery. John spent so much time denying that he was the Messiah, and telling people that the Chosen One was coming later. And here it was. The time was fulfilled. Jesus began him ministry after the Baptism, after the fasting and solitude in the desert and temptations by the Devil. He began by teaching and healing.

John, on the other hand, was interrupted in his ministry. He had criticized Herod for marrying his brother's wife and for this he was put in prison. People in authority do not like to be publicly criticized and there is a long tradition for leaders who put critics in prison. And there John heard about Jesus in a way that was detached.

Odd then, that he would send his disciples to Jesus to ask him, "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for anther?" What happened to John's resolve? What happened to the clarity he had at the Jordan River? Something caused him to wonder if he had been mistaken. Perhaps it was that Jesus didn't meet John's expectation. Like most of the Israelites, John spent much time expecting the Messiah and no doubt forming ideas about what the Messiah would be like and what he would do.

Like most of the Israelites Jesus encountered over time, after the initial splash of excitement, they had doubts and wondered. Ultimately that doubt would lead to a cross, but I get ahead of myself.

Jesus reminds the disciples of John what the Messiah was sent to do -- give sight to the blind, make the lame to walk, cleanse lepers, raise the dead and give good news to the poor. He concludes by saying "Blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me." It is a reminder to John that the Messiah is here to heal and reconcile those in need to God. And in that moment of Grace similar to the moment at the banks of the Jordan River, it is John who needs that word of hope. It is John who needs healing and it is John who needs Good news.

The lessons of Advent are collections of words of hope to people in need of believing, who for whatever reason either grow tired of waiting or have their expectations frustrated. Even John the Baptist wondered if he should be looking for another.

What do we do when our expectations and patience for God are stretched beyond what we are comfortable with? When God dos not act in the way we think He should? Or have our priorities? We don't have to look too far to see those who have indeed gone looking elsewhere. I don't think it's dishonest to say that we ourselves at one time or another have wondered if we're wasting our time and that this can't be the one after all. There are times for all of us when we think that perhaps we must look for another.

These happen at low points in our lives. We may not be like John in an actual prison, but it's not too far off the mark to say that periods of frustration and doubt can be prisons of their own. Periods of grief and illness, periods of physical, emotional or psychic pain -- each of these can be prisons. Perhaps John wondered why Jesus didn't come to get him out. If I had been John and done all the advance work for Jesus' appearance I think I would have had some expectations of Jesus helping out a little bit with the local Amnesty International Chapter. John's probable lament of "Hey, what about me?" is echoed in the voice of any person whose life long beliefs and good works seem to merit special attention from God. When that special attention or intervention doesn't come in a timely or desired fashion, doubt creeps in. Maybe I should look for another. This implies that "another" would certainly do what I want.

Most of you know how the story ends for John the Baptist. It wasn't a happy ending. While in prison, the wife of Herod that John had criticized conspired to have him killed and in fact John was beheaded while in prison. On thing we can say about the Bible is that they don't sugar coat their stories. It's real life in a time that was brutal. We live in times that are also tough and often brutal. War to corporate crime, to young people with guns shooting and killing innocent people in public places. Brutality and injustice seem to thrive and our expectations of the Chosen One shift to the needs of our culture. And the promises we've been given seem to weaken in the wake of our painful realities.

Still, for each brutal act from the killing of John the Baptist to the murder of innocents in a midwestern mall there are acts of kindness and hope that meet the challenges and responds of love to the victims and families. Those who are cripples by grief are made to walk again in time. Those who are blinded by anger or fear are given sight to see beyond their pain and fear. Those who have died in their loss of hope are resurrected with a new sense through the love of God working in each of us for good. And all who are poor in spirit have good news preached to them. This happens through God's love and grace. We live in a world that is not immune to suffering, but even in that suffering God is present and leads us beyond. God also took on suffering, not only the cross, but the doubt and betrayal of friends and disciples.

Jesus was clear in his identity and his mission and as such continues as a beacon to all of us who would allow the pain and disappointments of this world to bring us down.

Advent is a time of expectant energy. It is a time to remind ourselves through the stories of our scriptures and ancestors in the faith to remain open and hopeful. To remember that eve in times of crippling doubt and the prisons of despair that we do see the blind recieving their sight and lame walking and the lepers cleansed, the dead raised. We are the poor who have good news to bring. And we are blessed in this. Amen.

© 2007 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Second Sunday of Advent

By Mary Davis, Seminarian Intern

Matthew 3:1-12

Today's Gospel reading introduces us to the very familiar biblical character of John the Baptist. We meet him every year in Advent, since all 4 Gospels unanimously proclaim John as the official herald to the Messiah, the prophet for whom the prophets foretold would "Prepare the way of the Lord."

But what does this edgy, rough-and-tumble prophet have to say to us today? What is his message for us here, at St. George's, thousands of years later and thousands of miles from the wilderness path about which he spoke? This question made me want to dig for more about John the Baptist, but it also led me to wonder what John the Baptist might look like here, in our context, today. So, imagine with me, if you will, that standing just outside these doors is John the Baptist. Let's go meet him.

John certainly doesn't look like us. He's rough around the edges, just as you might imagine an ascetic from the desert might look (and smell!), but just the same, he is the first bona fide, genuine voice of God that we've heard in years. Hordes of people can't help themselves but flock to him, and we are no exception. But it's kind of like coming upon the scene of an accident, some slow down and look, while others move out of the way. For the words he uses are beyond frank, in fact they're downright scary. Who talks like this today? Says things like "flee from the wrath to come" (3:7) which was in our Gospel reading today, and describes our beloved and tame 21st century Jesus as holding a "winnowing fork" which will separate the wheat from the chaff to be burned "with unquenchable fire?" (7:12) John's words, appearance and smell make me, personally, want to walk a little faster, and not hang around for his message. I consider running to the other side of the street, in an attempt to avoid John's odd behavior and powerfully challenging words. But my curiosity plants my feet firmly in front of him.

Although John's method and message pose danger to him physically, the danger he knowingly faces doesn't seem to altar his message any. His message to us, on this day, is quite clear. He wants us to Repent. "Repent!" he yells, and we all take a step backward. I look around at all the other people, and act as if he were speaking to them, not me. It's hard to look at him, but harder yet, to listen to him. He's surprised at finding us today, so concerned with Christmas gifts, decorating and entertaining and this only serves as fuel for his repeated cries, "Repent!" As I begin to think about my own list-making, my gift-giving, and my entertaining priorities in this busy Advent season, I realize John's calls to repent are aimed at me. My Advent bears little resemblance to John's other cry, "bear fruit worthy of repentance." (3:8)

Some of the people respond, "But it's so easy to be swept up in this gift-giving and gift-receiving frenzy," while some other brave soul acknowledges our temptation to welcome only those whom affirm and love us to our holiday gatherings. Out loud, I wonder, "Perhaps we do have something to repent, but can't we participate in the secular Christmas and still find the Messiah?"

John continues on, undaunted by our skeptical tone and says, "You invite and welcome carefully chosen friends and family to your table this time of the year, but I wonder how many of you are aware of those who are hidden in the peripheries of pews here? Or equally important, have you considered those who are sporadic in their attendance here? Have you thought about who is not here at all, and why? These people, including the ones in your own families, who make you want to metaphorically "run to the other side of the street," are my fellow prophets who often have the most interesting stories to tell and are important voices to hear. They challenge your notions of harmony and peace the most, but also reveal to us a different face of God. Repent that you want to "run across the street." "Repent, and turn to face them," John the Baptist continues. "Your call this Advent is to be peacemakers of the Kingdom and open your hearts and lives to those who challenge you. It's just one more way to "Make the path straight" before being able to embrace our Messiah who comes soon!"

Finally, exasperated by our questioning looks, the Prophet lifts his hands high to the heavens, "We have Abraham as our ancestor (3:9), nothing is impossible for our God. Repent (3:2) - turn back to God, again and again, and again and again, because in order to greet Jesus on Christmas Day this year, you must first turn around and face the messiness in your lives; the messiness which is found in those whose faces are different, who ruffle our outer as well as our inner feathers. Only then can we find the Messiah who promises to baptize us with the Holy Spirit and with fire!

With that, John finishes his teaching, and turns to walk to the other side of the street, approaching those who really did cross over.

So ends our imaginary encounter with this rogue prophet. I understand his message because honestly, there's not much mystery to his words in this Gospel. But this doesn't make it any easier to hear or to follow John's message. And in case you're thinking that the only way we can encounter "John the Baptist" is through our imagination, think again, because, I bumped into my "own" John the Baptist just last month at Drew University. He (John) was a she, in the form of a classmate of mine in my Wednesday class this semester. This class always begins with a few minutes of sharing time. The Professor opens with the question, "how is it with your soul?" And one by one, my classmates share about their weeks, both spiritually and personally.

On one particular week, I was struggling with life at home and the weight of mothering my children with little to no respite help. The weight of my son's unclear future also added to my burden. After sharing this piece of my soul, a woman in the class pointed her finger at me and said, "the reason no one has come to your side to offer help is because of your judgmental nature." My jaw was on the ground. I was impaled, and I found no words for response. Her words haunted me for weeks. I cried because of them and then wrestled with them. I asked myself and others, "Who talks like this today?" "Who really says things like this?!"

Then a few weeks later, our professor opened class again, with the same question, "how is it with your soul?" This time, a different woman shared her present situation. She was confused and conflicted by her roots in the Baptist Church which damned her for questioning her sexual identity. She carefully described her pain, using the words from King David's lament in Psalm 31, "Be kind to me God - I'm in deep, deep trouble again. I've cried my eyes out; I feel hollow inside. My life leaks away, groan by groan; my years fade out in sighs. My troubles have worn me out." Her pain was palpable and her anguish real. Most of us in the room were speechless or simply prayed silently. But then, the same woman who had wagged her finger at me just a few weeks earlier began to speak. She spoke words of comfort and respect, and then said, "no matter what path you take, or whatever you decide, the truth is - God wants us to be free." Again, she repeated, "God wants you to be free!"

This was someone that, weeks before, I had been unable to look at, much less listen to, a person who had basically lumped me in with the Pharisees and Sadducees John described as the "brood of vipers" (3:7). But she was now speaking words of hope, promise and freedom. She was John the Baptist to me. I didn't want to look and I didn't want to listen. Although it was a painful realization, I realized I had judged and rejected well-meaning offers of help. And she spoke the truth.

Jesus' message at Christmas is, in fact, "you're free!" Sit with that today and in this season of Advent. You are free. Free from fear. Free from guilt. Free to love. But in order to find and celebrate this message, we must first face the prophets in our own lives who are like John the Baptist. These prophets make us uncomfortable, but when we listen to them, we are preparing the way of the Lord, and we will be ready to openly greet our Messiah at Christmas. Only then will we be able to live into and celebrate the freedom that Christ brings.

© 2007 Mary Davis

Homily for the Ordination of Christian Carroll to the Priesthood

By The Rev. Anne Bolles-Beaven

Numbers 11:16-17, 24-25
Philippians 4:4-9
John 6:35-38

"Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.... The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God." May I speak in the name of the Living God. Amen.

We come here today in this season pregnant with transforming grace to make our request known to God. We come expectantly: to ask God to send down his Holy Spirit upon Chris and make her "a priest in Christ's holy catholic church." We come, just as Moses and the 70 elders came to the tent of meeting - that the Holy One might "talk to [us] here," might take some of the Spirit that God has given to those called to lead God's people in the past and put it on Chris. It is, as it was in the book of Numbers, a one-time event. It is, like baptism, unrepeatable, indelible, an eternal change.

People sometimes refer to ordination as being "set apart." We clergy find that somewhat flattering until we find out that "set apart" can quickly become "set aside." "A priest is not 'set apart,'" Dean Fenhagen of General Seminary used to tell us with some frequency, "but 'set within.' Priests only make sense 'within' a community of faith" - whose life they are called to nurture by Word and Sacrament and within whom they stand as icons of the sacred calling to sacrificial love and service to which the whole Body is called. (The Rev. Jim Fenhagen, paraphrased from conversations with him at GTS, 1985-1988, author of Mutual Ministry.) Ordained ministry is not 'set apart' from lay ministry but set alongside it in a relationship of mutual ministry - as the dean's book on the subject was later called. We're all in this together.

It is such a leap of faith what we do today - on your part, Chris, and on ours! We ordain you to be a minister of Word and Sacrament among us: Word in a world where words can so easily seem just words; Sacrament in a world of such suffering that water, a bit of bread, a sip of wine, the touch of a thumb in oil can seem small indeed. Still against all odds, with a certain disarming foolishness, we do what Christians have always done: taken certain people of our community, set them in the midst and called upon God to empower them to help midwife us into the full measure of the stature of Christ. We say to them: live out among us what we say we believe.

Beneath the surface of things we believe that God created us in love, by love, for love - that God is with us, for us, just as we are not as we might have been. We believe God is at work in our lives blessing, healing and transforming us - turning guilt into gratitude, fear into forgiveness, birthing joy from the wreckage of despair. We believe we have a mission in the world, that our lives serve a larger purpose, that we have a destiny beyond the merely personal having been knit together into the Body of the Risen Christ and filled with his Spirit and sent in his power.

We believe that there is more to life than meets the eye. But it is easy to forget that we believe that because what meets our eye is war in Iraq and Afghanistan and shootings in a mall in Omaha. What meets our eye is homelessness and hunger, racism, sexism, and bias against those who differ from us, politics fueled by expedience and self interest, blatant disregard and contempt for the least, the lost, the lonely and the left behind. We see all this but we believe something else. We hope something else and we need your help in remembering it.

Chris, please stand up. We're not ordaining you to run a church - though churches need running and some of those tasks you'll do. We're ordaining you because the community needs help in keeping its memory and its hope alive and you're it. You're the one God sent. "Tell me the old, old story of Jesus and his glory," the old hymn goes. "Tell me the old, old story of Jesus and his love." That is your vocation among us: to remind us of whom we are and whose we are, to keep us from veering off into lives of fantasy, futility or despair, to keep what we believe in our hearts, by the grace of God, before our eyes.

Be on the lookout for grace among us. Show us where you see green points poking up out of the ground - and do your best to keep us from stepping on them. Look for your story within THE story and help us to do the same. Help us to see ourselves as God sees us not perfect but "very good" - "and God looked at everything that God had made and lo it was very good." Encourage us. Challenge us. For goodness sake, do us all a favor and shake us out of our individualistic mindset - introduce us to the fact that we have some 20 centuries of company steeped in this same life giving scripture, seeking this same obedience to Christ, sustained by this same saving life giving bread and wine. We are never in this alone no matter how it may appear to any one of us from time to time. In a similar vein we rarely have a "lock" on the truth. Teach us how to tell one another the truth in love by telling us the truth in love and then do your best to listen when we try to tell you. We're all in this together. We all need help expanding our vision and turning our worries into prayers. In the words of The Message, "It's amazing what can happen when Christ replaces worry at the center of your life."

"Let your gentleness be made known to everyone" but don't let gentleness and humility be the bushel under which you hide your light. Let your light shine. Let your light shine before all people. Christianity has been shaped by such wonderfully arrogant men - like St. Paul and St. Augustine - that all of us are constantly on the lookout for the sin of pride. Women tend more toward the sin of self erasure. You are a curious and dedicated student; be an equally curious and dedicated teacher. Share what you do know and HAVE found because your job is to devote yourself with real intention to these things. There are other jobs - we will be doing many of them - but this is yours. We have much to learn from you: your palpable prayerfulness, your dependence on God, your relationship with Chris, your integration of contemplation and justice.

You've labored as a social worker - digging deep and getting dirty. Help us to put our hands and feet where our hearts and minds are. Help us to do more than talk a good game. Call us to service beyond self - to strive for justice and peace among all persons loving our neighbors as ourselves. Help us to embody hope - to one another and to the world. There will be days when we miss the mark and wander off the way and not want to hear it. There will be days when you will do the same and not want to speak it. Do it anyway. Baptize us, marry us, preach, preside and pray - in season and out of season when you feel inspired and when you do not. You are a priest: Carry us in your heart as Christ carries you. This is your ordination vow. This is your calling among us.

"Rejoice in the Lord always" and thank God for the self evident charisms with which God has equipped you for the work of this ministry - three master's degrees, in social work, psychology and divinity - all of which will prove useful for it has been wisely observed whenever two or three are gathered together there will be problems. Thank God for your pastoral abilities - healing and profound and desperately needed. Thank God for all that has taught you to be aware of the dark and unafraid to sit in it. It is a gift that will cause many to rejoice and deeply, especially if, as I hope you will, you offer yourself as a spiritual director.

"Finally, Beloved" Chris, though there will be many temptations to do otherwise, resist the demons of negativity that seek to pull us down and away. "Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence - any at all! - if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me" - keep on offering yourself to God, keep on consecrating your life to Christ, day after day after day - "and the God of peace will be with you." "The Lord is near" - loving and upholding you now and always.

Remember in whose strength you go. In Christ's name we wish you joy.

© 2007 The Rev. Anne Bolles-Beaven

First Sunday of Advent

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

A good many years ago I sat by the Christmas tree one morning opening gifts. They were given to me in a particular order and I was intrigued by the deliberate nature of this process, so unusual for the regular random package opening. But here they came in a particular order. In the first couple box there were several short sleeve shirts. This struck me as somewhat odd, since it was in fact Winter, and a cold one at that. But, a gift is a gift and perhaps the bargain table was just too much to resist. The next box, much lighter than even the shirt box contained a pair of sandals. Again, an odd choice for winter, but they were nice and one does get sandals cheaper when the snow is on the ground. I was beginning to get tired of the bargain hunting theme. There were several of these boxes containing seasonally inappropriate gifts when the last box was handed to me. It was the smallest and lightest of all. When I opened the box I was stunned to see two airline tickets to St. Croix. Most other people would have caught on to this pattern long before the final box, but since this thinking was essentially out of the box for me I was totally taken by surprise. The friend giving me the gifts was absolutely delighted by my stupification. I remember having at least the presence of mind to ask, "When are we going?" He said with an evil grin, "Tomorrow." The shock I had felt before was nothing compared to the shock of that news. "Tomorrow?" Now, having already established that I'm slow on the uptake, you'll understand that for me, it wasn't really processing that "tomorrow" actually meant the next day. But, that is precisely what occurred and it was a wonderful trip.

In the weeks after the trip, after the pictures were developed (yes, this story took place before digital cameras) I enjoyed the memories of the trip, but also realized that something was missing. For some reason this trip was unlike others, and I felt a little off balance by it. It wasn't until sometime later that I realized the missing piece for me had to do with the planning. Since this trip was a surprise, I had no part in putting it together. As a result, the weeks of anticipation were not there. There are three ways we enjoy a trip -- the planning of it, the going on it, and the memories of it. Having missed the planning phase, one of the important parts of the full process was missing.

Through that experience, I learned to enjoy consciously and intentionally the gift of anticipation. We often hear of "immediate gratification" as though that were the most desirable thing. I believe gratification is richer and deeper when is takes a while to get there and anticipation is the slow, savory cooking of the actual event, a fine form of gratification in its own right.

We begin this season of Advent today as part of the anticipation of Christmas. Street decorations, store window displays, Rockerfeller Center tree and 24 hour Christmas music not withstanding, it is not Christmas yet. To dive into Christmas without a season of anticipation is to rob us of the deep satisfaction of proper planning for a season which begins on December 25, and not ends.

Our liturgical colors of deep blues and purples are ancient colors of royalty as we await the coming of the sovereign God. The lighting of the Advent candles mark the weeks of our anticipation. Slowly and patiently adding decorations help build up the expectation. Placing wrapped presents not to be opened tease children of all ages with curiousity that is rewarded in time.

The lessons we read are scriptural forms of anticipation. Isaiah anticipates a day when Israel was to be a beacon to the nations of justice and mercy for all people. A nation living in harmony with God and each other, a day when the weapons of destruction would be beat into plowshares, and they would forget the methods of war since war itself would become obsolete. In his letter to the Romans Paul anticipates the second coming of Christ to be close at hand. Yet despite how close it is, he warns the Romans reading his letters that waiting is no excuse to be foolish and lazy. He writes to the Romans that they should wait for Jesus honorably and wear an armor of light, a beautiful image of hope rising like the sun on the day they've long waited for.

Matthew, in this Gospel tempers the expectation with the words about not knowing when that day or hour is. Keep awake, wait, anticipate. The quality of anticipation is a life style that looks forward to when life and the world will be more and more in harmony with God and that our spirits live alongside each other in love and peace. We still long for the day when our weapons of war will have peaceful uses and our energy and technology will be used to generate better lives, not more destructive ones.

I love the season of Advent for it's energizing anticipation. I love the way the church looks and am very grateful to the altar guild for their patient and loving preparation as the season unfolds. I am grateful to the choir for their extra work as they anticipate the special music of this season. I am grateful to all those in each part of the life of this church who are drawn into the experience of expecting the Christ child in this most wonderful manger. All our preparations are a glimpse into and a metaphor of the life of expectation that we as Christians are called to live. Even our architecture calls us into expectation. Church buildings are generally build in a way that orients the altar on the east end of the structure. It's done that way so that all the people are facing east, and St. George's also falls into this style. Christianity is one of the many religions whose people face east to pray as a way of watching the sun rise and with it the hope of a new day. The earliest Christians look for Jesus to come again from the east. Just as there is that magical moment called the darkest part of the night before the dawn, so we in our faith hold fast even through the darkest parts of our lives in anticipation of the dawn of God's love and grace in our lives.

Advent is not just these four weeks. Advent is a way of life. It's not only a countdown to the celebration of the Nativity, an exhausted dash to the finish line. It is the place in our souls that waits for God to appear in ways desperately needed and utterly unexpected. It is an openness to God unlike anything else in our lives. It is the same faith expressed by Isaiah and Paul and so many others through time that God has always been with us, is with us, and will come to us and all the same time.

Next Saturday Chris Carroll will be ordained a priest. Now she is in the period of Advent looking forward to how God will work in her life in that ministry. After many years of preparation and expectation the moment will come and it will be in one sense a conclusion to a process, but in a very real sense it is only the beginning of a new life yet to be seen. As we begin families, new jobs, new schooling, our lives are one in Advent, full of expectation and hope as to how God will be present in those moments creating new life and wonder full of healing grace. And even in moments of pain, grief and sorrow we are people of Advent looking to the sun of God’s righteousness and hope rising in the darkest moments of our lives.

There is not a day or a moment in which the promise of God is not there to unfold in new ways bringing us to new places in our lives and in our spirits. We do not know the times or the days, but our faith keeps us on the edge of our seats knowing that God will come. Amen.

© 2007 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ