"How Does a Weary World Rejoice? Trust Our Belovedness" a sermon on Mark 1:4-11

Mark 1:4-11
“How Does a Weary World Rejoice? Trust Our Belovedness”
Preached Sunday, January 7, 2024 

Do you know you are loved?
How do you know you are loved?

Through Advent and Christmas we have been asking: “How does a weary world rejoice?” We answered that question in the following ways:
We acknowledge our weariness - laying down our burdens with God and each.
We find joy in connection - connecting with others who will hold our weariness and joy for us.
We allow ourselves to be amazed - at all that God is doing in our world, at our world’s many wonders.
We sing stories of hope - joining in the prophetic tradition of so many of our mothers and fathers of the faith, we sing and dream about the future that God has planned.
And we make room - for God and for each other.

All of these ways that we rejoice in a weary world have the same strong and fertile foundation: that we are rooted deeply in God’s love for us.

That we know, above all else, that we are loved. That we are beloved. Meaning a much loved person. And that the core of our belovedness stems from the truth that God loves us, deeply and without measure.

Today is what we call Baptism of the Lord Sunday - and when Jesus comes out of the water, the Holy Spirit descended like a dove and a voice from the heavens said, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Some translations of this Scripture, instead of “with you I am well pleased” say “in you, I find happiness and delight.”

When we are baptized, we are baptized in the name of the Trinity: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Some refer to the Trinity as Lover, Beloved, and Love Itself. We are baptized in the name of Love. Romans 8 - possibly one of my favorite chapters in the whole of Scripture in the whole Bible - Romans 8 tells us that we are children of God with Christ, and if children then heirs. We are Children of Love, heirs with Belovedness, claimed by Love Itself. God’s words to Jesus in his Baptism are also God’s words to us in our Baptism, our shared Baptism in Christ: “You are my child, my Beloved. In you I find happiness and delight.”

This is where the source of all of our joy, our rejoicing comes from: We are Beloved.

But…do we really believe it? Do we really trust that we are God’s beloved? Do you?

Henri Nouwen was a Catholic priest and theologian who left the prestige of academia to care for people with profound physical and mental disabilities at L’Arche Daybreak community. He was also a prolific and profound writer, writing over 30 books. One of his most well-known and heartfelt books is “Life of the Beloved.” A secular friend of Nouwen’s, Eric, asked Henri to write a book for him and others like him, the not-overtly-religious-but-seeking. He said to write “about the deepest yearning of our hearts, about our many wishes, about hope . . . Speak to us about . . . God.” The Life of the Beloved was the answer to that request. In that book, Nouwen talks about our belovedness, that belovedness is the very foundation of our lives and identities. I cannot stress enough that I wish every person alive - and certainly everyone in this room - could read this short but impactful book - to spend time contemplating their belovedness.

Because belovedness is what we are all seeking - to be loved. And often in our world, we chase things that we think will get us there, that we think will love us as we long to be loved, that we think will satisfy our soul’s deepest longings… We chase belovedness thinking that this job, this project, this trip, this relationship, this diet, this goal, this New Year’s Resolution…this will finally be the thing that satisfies my soul. But…of course they don’t. And the endless chase of love leaves us feeling empty, anxious, restless, wanting. It leads us to spiritual exhaustion - Nouwen even goes as far to say it leads us to spiritual death.

Because our weary world will try to shout over the voice of God - trying to stick us with names, titles, identities that are less than Beloved Children of God. Our weary world will say to us: you are weary. You are a lost cause. You are exhausted. You are a failure. You are not enough.

And if we are not careful to decenter these voices, we can come to believe that they are at the core of our identity. And a life without belovedness at the center - a life with exhaustion and deprecation at the center…that life doesn’t lead to true and abundant life. It doesn’t lead to Love.

Henri Nouwen says it like this:
“...you have to keep unmasking the world about you for what it is: manipulative, controlling, power-hungry, and, in the long run, destructive. The world tells you many lies about who you are, and you simply have to be realistic enough to remind yourself of this. Every time you feel hurt, offended, or rejected, you have to dare to say to yourself: 'These feelings, strong as they may be, are not telling me the truth about myself. The truth, even though I cannot feel it right now, is that I am the chosen child of God, precious in God's eyes, called the Beloved from all eternity, and held safe in an everlasting belief.”

The Christian Band casting Crowns says it like this in their 2003 song, “The Voice of Truth”:
“But the waves are calling out my name
And they laugh at me
Reminding me of all the times
I've tried before and failed
The waves they keep on telling me
Time and time again. "’Boy, you'll never win!’
‘You'll never win!’

But the Voice of Truth tells me a different story
The Voice of Truth says, ‘Do not be afraid!’
And the Voice of Truth says, ‘This is for My glory’
Out of all the voices calling out to me
I will choose to listen and believe the Voice of Truth.”

Pastor Allison says it like this… I say it like this:
Trust your belovedness. You are a child of God, loved by God beyond comprehension. All other less-than-identities - we died to them in our baptism. And in that baptism, as we were resurrected with Christ, we were born again with the new identity of Beloved Child of God.

When we trust our belovedness, when we hold fast to it, when we come back to our belovedness again and again, then all other voices are drowned out. And it is there in that belovedness that we find the source of all of our rejoicing, all of our joy.

So… Do you know that you are loved by God? How do you know that you are loved by God?

It all starts at the baptismal fount and extends to the table of the Lord.

These are our constant reminders in our weary world of who and whose we are. That no matter what - God has claimed us as beloved in our baptisms. And that no matter what, God saves us a seat at this table.

These are touchstones in our weary world that we are called back to time and time again to remember who we are: Beloved. That which is the source of all our joy - even in our weary world. When God calls us child, when God feeds us and invites us in - we can experience the love of God that claims us and sates us with the joy of Belovedness.

So today we will come to the fount and to the table. To bask in God’s love for us. To feel God’s love for us. To remember the love of God who has claimed us in the name of Lover, Beloved, and Love Itself. We come here today and then we go into the world, trusting our belovedness.

For it is only in trusting our belovedness, that we can share the God of love with the world.

So know this: You are loved. You are loved by God. You are God’s Beloved in whom God finds happiness and delights.

Amen.

"How Does A Weary World Rejoice? We Sing Stories of Hope" a sermon on Luke 1:46-55

Luke 1:46-55
“How Does A Weary World Rejoice?: We Sing Stories of Hope”
Preached Sunday, December 17, 2023

“A thrill of hope, a weary world rejoices.” That infamous line from the Christmas carol, “O Holy Night” and the focus of our Advent and Christmas worship. We are asking - how does a weary world rejoice?

We are coming to the end of Advent. The end of the four weeks of preparation for Christmas and when we gather next Sunday it will be Christmas Eve, the start of the celebration of Jesus’s birth.

And in the Church we have Advent hymns and we have Christmas hymns. I have always been a fan of Advent hymns. These are all the songs, generally in minor key, that we sing in this season: O Come, O Come Emmanuel, Come Thou Long Expected Jesus, Savior of the Nations Come, and so forth. I was baptized during Advent and I’ve always said I have an Advent soul. It is the season of the Christian year that resonates with me most - because in Advent we not only look backwards, remembering the birth of Christ, when God took on flesh in Jesus, became Emmanuel, God-With-Us, the start of God’s salvific acts for us…but we also look to the present and acknowledge that we are in a weary world, a world that needs saving, that longs for God to come again, return to us and redeem all of creation. And we look toward the future, awaiting that second coming.

And so I used to be fairly strict: In Advent, we only sing Advent hymns. At Christmas, the 12 days of Christmas, that is when we can belt out the Christmas carols.

But you know…I have been slowly changing my mind on that.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not yet the kind of person who starts listening to Christmas music on November 1st. And I think I may always prefer Advent hymns over Christmas carols because they resonate with me more personally…and yet, Advent hymns resonate so deeply with me because they bring me hope. I sing them and I remember, I hope, I know…that one day, Christ will return again and redeem all creation.

And that is what singing Christmas carols does too. We sing of Jesus’s birth and we remember, we hope, we know…that this a world with reasons to rejoice. This is a world with love and goodness. This is a world with kindness and cheer. This is a world where even when we are weary, even when there are so many things that try to steal our hope, our peace, our joy, our love for one another…Christmas music gives hope, peace, joy, and love back to us in spades. It is a lifeline, a joyous lifeline in a weary world.

Our Scripture is full of people who burst into songs and sing songs of hope. Today’s Gospel lesson, known as the Magnificat, Mary’s Song: “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior” - it is a song of praise and hope. It’s a song where Mary praises God, rejoices that God has looked upon her, yes, even her - and then celebrates and hopes for all that God will accomplish through the child now in her womb - righting wrongs, freeing the oppressed, ushering in God’s Kingdom.

Mary, Zechariah, Moses, Miriam, Hannah, King David…there are so many ancestors of our faith who sang songs of hope. Songs of praises of God.

Today, let us lift our voices with them. Let us sing songs of praise to God, songs of hope for our weary world. And we will do that today, we will share in a mini-lessons and carols, giving us a chance for the songs of our choir and the songs we will sing to bolster us - to give us reasons to hope and rejoice in a weary world.

And, beyond today, anytime your heart is weary - may you find a song to sing. A song that fills you with hope. And beyond that, may you find others to sing it with.

I’d like to end my sermon this morning by sharing a poem with you by Meta Herrick Carlson, entitled “For Beloved Christmas Hymns”:

“Advent was brief and flew away
with one, maybe two renditions.

Christmas is for all the verses,
a chorus of people gathered in
by forces of faith unseen, preaching
Joy to the World and Silent Night.

Christmas is for anthems that wait
all year long in the dark depths
of our lungs for a time such as this,
to revive the world with hope that sings.”

Let us sing. Amen.

“How Does A Weary World Rejoice?: We Allow Ourselves to Be Amazed” a sermon on Luke 1:57-66 & Pslam 126

Luke 1:57-66
Psalm 126
“How Does A Weary World Rejoice?: We Allow Ourselves to Be Amazed” preached on Sunday, December 10, 2023

“A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices.”

This is a line from the Christmas carol, “O Holy Night” and the basis of our Advent & Christmas worship. We are asking, “How does a weary world rejoice?” So far we have talked about acknowledging our weariness and finding joy in connecting with others. Today we will answer “How does a weary world rejoice?” with “We allow ourselves to be amazed.”

Today, I want to invite us to open ourselves up to the connections between awe, amazement, pondering, wondering, dreaming, and rejoicing. All these concepts are connected, inter-related, and essential to how God calls us to live in this world.

So let us start with awe.

Dacher Keltner, a psychologist at the University of California, Berkeley, defines awe as “the feeling of being in the presence of something vast that transcends your understanding of the world.” In 1972, anger, surprise, disgust, enjoyment, fear and sadness were identified as the 6 primary emotions and all other emotions are some form of those. Think of the Pixar movie “Inside Out” that is based on this concept. But recent research on human emotions and awe posits that awe is a primary seventh emotion. Awe has a different effect on our bodies, our nerves, our inner being than any of these other emotions. It slows out hearts, helps with digestion, deepens our breathing - and psychologically, awe quiets the negative and criticizing voices in our heads.

In our weary world, we need more awe. Awe is not only good for our health - mental and physical - awe has the ability to override our weariness, help us see the world anew, help us see the world through the loving eyes of a God that delights in God’s own creation.

And the good news is, we can practice awe. We practice awe by simply paying attention. By noticing things, by being curious, by wondering at the world around us. In her book “World of Wonders: In Praise of Fireflies, Whale Sharks, and Other Astonishments,” author Aimee (and I am probably going to butcher this last name) Nezhukumatathil spends chapter after chapter wondering about plants and animals, strange and incomprehensible, and all endangered. She says wonder takes practice and patience and putting aside distractions. But when we open ourselves up to wonder - we open ourselves up to the whole world. She talks about how wondering at a single firefly - which, if you didn’t know, are an endangered species with 18 varieties on the brink of extinction and significantly less of them for every generation of children - she talks about how wondering at a single firefly, opens herself up tp all the memories in her life that are connected to fireflies, to summer nights, to joy, and all the way our world is interconnected, and all the ways we wonder about the future and want to protect our world for future generations. I quote, “Did you see that? A single firefly... Such a tiny light, for such a considerable task. Its luminescence could very well be the spark that reminds us to make a most necessary turn- a shift and a swing and a switch- toward cherishing this magnificent and wondrous planet…”

When was the last time you were truly in awe? In wonder of something? And being in awe, being in wonder, is vastly different from being shocked, scandalized, or horrified - things that happen to us every day in our weary world as we hear the news and the going-ons that break our hearts. No, not the last time you were shocked but the last time you were in awe - where you noticed something that opened you up to the vastness and wonderfulness of our world, the vastness and wonderfulness of our God?

And what was it that amazed you? Was it the light of a single firefly in your backyward; was it the Grand Canyon or the last time you traveled to a National Park and saw beauty almost too big to comprehend; was it a particularly stunning display of fall foliage; or the quiet and understated beauty of the first flakes of falling snow? Was it when you saw a stranger moved to kindness? Jumping up to hold the door open; taking the hand of an elderly woman, helping her safely to her car; or holding the door ope with a smile and a nod? Was it staring at your child or grandchild, a niece or nephew - hearing their first laugh; falling into a giggle fit together; marveling at how fast they have grown? Or was it marveling at the unabashed wonderment of a child. Children are great models of practicing awe and wonder - the weariness of the world has not yet hindered them from seeing beauty and magic everywhere. How they notice rainbows reflected through glass, the first delicious bite of a cookie, how a snuggle and a kiss can solve almost any problem. This is all awe. This is all wonder. When were you last in awe - and what was it that amazed you?

We are called as children of God to practice awe. To pay attention. To pray to view people and the world through the eyes of God. I have this early memory from middle school when we could give presentations on any topic that excited us. And as I watched my classmates speak on topics they were passionate about, I remember being in awe. I remember thinking how beautiful each of them was. I remember thinking, “I am seeing my classmates, I am seeing them as God sees them - as beautiful, beloved children of God.” It was an experience of awe. I wonder…what would our world be like if we could see each other like this every day and in every interaction?

With a more established understanding of awe and wonder - let us now turn to our Scripture lessons from this morning, searching for awe and wonder in the text.

In our Gospel reading we are finally at the birth and circumcision of John who will come to be known as John the Baptist. Two weeks ago we heard about how Zechariah did not trust that the angel was answering his prayers when he was told that he would have a child and how he was subsequently silenced. Last week we heard how Elizabeth isolated herself for 5 months, maybe fearing to trust that Good thing that God was doing - and how her joy was made complete when her and Mary connected, holding joy for one another. And this week, we are at the birth and circumcision of John. And while the last two weeks we talked about Zechariah and Elizabeth, this week I would like to talk about the crowd, the neighbors, present with them. They were rejoicing at this wonderful child, this amazing thing that God had done - and yet there was a little issue over the naming and when Zechariah confirmed via writing on a tablet - not an iPad - but a tablet, when he confirmed the name they had been given by God - John, his mouth was opened, his tongue was freed, and praises for God poured forth. And all who saw this miracle, who heard Zechariah’s praises of God, they were amazed. They were in awe. And our reading this morning said “all who heard them pondered…” Another translation says “wonder fell upon the whole neighborhood.” They were pondering, wondering, “What will this child become?” It is the question every parent asks in their hearts when holding a newborn child - what will this child become? It reminds us of what Mary will think at the birth of Jesus when Scripture says she pondered all these things in her heart.

The whole community, by being in awe, by wondering and pondering, they were now paying attention to the awesome things that God had done, was doing, will do. Every birth, every newborn, every child, is a thing of awe. But this one - there was something else happening here. Something truly awe-some. How many of these neighbors allowed their wonder to continue through the years as John grew and grew into who God called him to be? How many of them allowed their wonder to draw them to the shore of the Jordan and tp be baptized by John? How many of them then followed Jesus, taking the path that John laid out for them. How many of them continued to be in wonder of how God was acting in the world through this now 8-day-old child?

We have seen awe and wonder and pondering and rejoicing in this text from our Gospel lesson. Let us now turn toward our Psalm, looking for awe, looking for wonder.

“When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream…”

Dreaming is a form of awe, of wonder, and certainly of hope.

I recently saw the new Disney movie, Wish. While critics didn’t universally love it, my family did. In the movie, all the people in the magical kingdom of Rosas give their wishes, their hearts’ deepest desires, their dreams - when they turn 18, they give them to the sorcerer king for safe-keeping. The King will then arbitrarily choose to grant a wish once a month. And in giving their wish away, the people forget what their wish was, they forget what they dreamed of. They say they give it without regret but find that without their wishes, without their dreams - they are less than they were before. They are sad, listless, lost.

Because dreaming, wishing, is so closely related to hope, to wonder, to awe, to joy.

When we allow ourselves to hope, to dream, to imagine, to pray to God for a future that we wish for… we also start paying attention to how God is working, how God is creating a future of hope, our futures, in the here and now.

The Psalmist says that they, the Israelites just coming out of Babylonian captivity, how they were like those who dream again! And in dreaming, they are filled with laughter, with shouts and songs of joy, and they rejoice in all that God has done for them. For many years, they may not have allowed themselves to dream. The weariness of the world, of their captivity, they were reluctant to allow themselves to hope, to dream - for anything else. And in doing so - they shut themselves off to what God was doing.


The famous line of this Psalm reminds us of their hardship and weariness. “May those who sow in tears…” There is no doubt of the tears that were shed. Shed by the Israelities in the Psalm who had been in exile for so long. And also the tears that are shed here and now, the tears we sow in our weary world…

Yet even in a weary world - we can sow tears, and reap in joy.

The Psalm references “the watercourses of the Negeb.” For most of us, this is a line we quickly brush over. For the liturgist who read our Psalm, maybe it was a stumbling block of pronunciation - but the watercourses in the Negeb were a seasonal river. Dry and then when the rainy season came, filled, overflowing, flooding, and then the lush vegetation growing in its wake, along its shoreline.

When we think of deserts, we often think of life-less, dry, desolate places. But for anyone who has seen enough nature documentaries, or encountered the beauty of a desert after a rain - we know this is not the case. Even in the hottest place on earth, like Death Valley, a small amount of rain can awaken seeds that have been there for decades, creating beautiful desert blooms. And then there is the saguaro cactus and its beautiful flowers, found in the desert of Arizona. The largest cactus in the world that can grow up to 40 feet tall, live 100 to 200 years, and soak up and store 200 gallons of water at a time. Its flowers bloom at night for four weeks out of the year. Take for example the Atacama desert in Chile which is the driest desert in the world. On average, it only has one significant rainfall once a century. So how in the world can life survive and thrive here? The desert’s coast runs parallel to a cold sea that creates a dense, thick fog, that rolls over the desert. Within minutes the landscape and vegetation are drenched in mist, giving life to all, flowers, cacti, birds, and animals of all kinds…

Even in places that we tend to think of as lifeless - there are seeds sown, ready for the smallest amount of rain, to burst forth in blooms of color and life, blooms and life that we can wonder at, be amazed at, be in awe of how our God works.

Even in the driest, weariest places in our world - there is beauty to be found. And I am not talking about ecosystems anymore. I am talking about weary places of our souls, places of conflict and brokenness, places where tears are sown in abundance. Even there, yes, even there - we can practice awe, see goodness and beauty, be amazed, give thanks and praise God.

Even there we can see blooms of joy sprouting up, giving color to our weary world.

Without wonder, we may just see the dry, desert-like, weary places in our world. But when we practice awe, when we practice and pray to see the world through the eyes of God, we see color, flowers, blooms, fireflies, beauty, love, hope - popping up everywhere, yes, even in our weary world.

And in that wonder, in that awe, we give thanks to God - we rejoice: a thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices.

May we all be in awe and rejoice.

Amen.

"How Does a Weary World Rejoice?: We Find Joy in Connection" a sermon based on Luke 1:24-45 and Isaiah 40:1-11

Luke 1:24-45
Isaiah 40:1-11
“How Does a Weary World Rejoice?: We Find Joy in Connection” preached Sunday, December 3, 2023 
“A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices.”

So goes the line from the Christmas carol, “O Holy Night” that our Advent and Christmas worship is based on. We are asking, HOW does a weary world rejoice? This week we answer with “We find joy in connection.”

Which brings me to the two women in today’s Gospel lesson. Mary and Elizabeth.

First, Mary. She is newly pregnant, and the Scriptures say she made haste to see Elizabeth. For when the angel Gabriel visited her and announced her divine pregnancy, the angel also shared Elizabeth's miraculous conception.

Now, every pregnant woman's experience is different. In January of 2020 I was just weeks pregnant with Agnes and I was absolutely and utterly physically miserable. I was exhausted. I was hungry every 5 minutes. And I was also throwing up what seemed like every hour. At the time I was watching online as colleague’s shared pictures and videos from a trip to the Holy Land and I was giving thanks that I was on my couch, that I wasn’t on that trip.

But Mary, newly pregnant, makes haste to see Elizabeth. The accepted location of the annunciation was in Nazareth and Elizabeth lived in the hill country, Ein Karem, which was about 80 miles from Nazareth. That’s about the distance from here to Cleveland but with no cars and no tunpike. Not an easy journey to take even if your body isn’t going through the slog of early pregnancy.

Why was she rushing to see Elizabeth with such haste?

I can think of perhaps two reasons.

First, Mary needed to talk to someone who would “get it.” Who else could she talk to in her life who would even begin to understand the circumstances around her miraculous pregnancy? I think of how many times a day I pick up my phone to text, to message, to call, or to make plans to meet someone - who gets it. Another young mom. Another young clergy women. That small overlap of young clergy who are moms. A best friend who knows me well. All those people in my life who “get it.” Whatever it is I am going through - I know they will see me, hear me, support me. Having people in our lives who “get it” is so important. Two of the most powerful words in the English language are “me too.” When we say “me too” to someone we are saying, “I see you. You are not alone.”

Who else could this person have been for Mary other than Elizabeth? The angel didn’t have to tell Mary about Elizabeth…but he did. Perhaps because God wanted Mary and Elizabeth to connect, to not be alone, to be there for each other in a way that no one else could. God knew that they would need each other and so God made the connection possible.

Call to mind the people in your life who “get it.” Who support you. Who, when you see them, your soul rejoices. Now give thanks to God for them! Thank you God for putting these people in our lives!

So that’s one reason why Mary could have gone with such haste to see Elizabeth. The second is simply this, perhaps Mary was excited to celebrate with Elizabeth. She couldn’t pick up her phone and facetime with her, she needed to go see her in person to share her joy. We know Mary and Elizabeth were cousins with an age gap between them. But we don’t really know what their relationship was like. They obviously knew each other well and cared about each other. Maybe they were cousins who were like sisters, or because of the age gap, maybe Elizabeth was like a caring aunt for Mary. Maybe, in addition to being relatives, they were friends. Perhaps Mary knew of all the hardship that Elizabeth had faced. Her heart breaking alone with Elizabeth’s, month after month, year after year, when she didn’t have a child. And now, she wanted nothing more than to rejoice with her.

So that’s Mary’s motives for making haste to go see Elizabeth. Now let’s talk about Elizabeth.

Elizabeth found out she was pregnant and then went into seclusion for 5 months. I want to stress that this is not typical. This wasn’t cultural practice. So why did Elizabeth do it? Was she having a difficult pregnancy in her advanced age and was basically on bed rest? Was she uncomfortable in her older pregnant body being seen by her neighbors? Or was she afraid? We just know she experienced many years of infertility - we don’t know if, perhaps in those years, Elizabeth suffered from miscarriages. So many moms who experience pregnancy after a miscarriage have spoken openly about their fear. Their fear to hope. Their reticence to feel joy. Because what if this pregnancy ends in miscarriage too? Keeping themselves from hoping, from rejoicing, they are trying to protect their hearts in the case of another loss. For whatever reason, she was in seclusion for 5 months and remember her husband, Zechariah, was experiencing muteness so she didn’t even have him to talk to.

She is in isolation. That is, until Mary comes to visit. When Mary walks in and greets Elizabeth - Elizabeth is filled with the Holy Spirit, the baby inside her leaps for joy, and her seclusion, her isolation turns into joy for Mary and the child in her womb as well.

Elizabeth is rejoicing for Mary. And Mary is rejoicing for Elizabeth. Together they move from fear, from isolation, from the unknown - and together they move toward rejoicing, gratitude, laughter, blessing.

Through their connection with each other, they cleared the path to rejoicing. They made straight the path through the twists and turns of their lives, so that, together, they could rejoice.

Our other reading this morning from Isaiah contains that well-known line:

“A voice cries out:
‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord;
make straight in the desert a highway for our God.’”

We connect this passage with John and Jesus, those two babies in the wombs of Elizabeth and Mary, that John is that voice in the wilderness that makes the path to Jesus straight.

And, we too can read this passage as a command to us. We are to make a straight path to God for others.

…but how? In our weary world…how?

In Bible Study on Wednesday when talking about this text from Isaiah we talked about the piles of rubble in Gaza. We talked about babies escaping from bombed out hospitals. Although not all of them did. We talked about hostages being returned…and still those who are being held. We talked about cancer diagnoses. We talked about those we love and those we are praying for who are facing non-straight paths, filled with twists and turns, for whom the future is hard and unclear.

The path to God, which is also the path to peace, the path to love, the path to joy…seems anything but straight, doesn’t it? We look out at our weary world and we see mountains and valleys, we see piles of rubble from bombed buildings, we see a whole lot of sin, of atrocities, of violence and heart-break…there is so much in the way of our anything-but-straight paths to the God of Connection, the God of Joy, the God of Peace.

A straight path to God?

It may seem impossible.

And yet, Gabriel’s words to Mary were: “For nothing will be impossible with God.”

Mary and Elizabeth did not have a straight path to get to each other but when they met, when they connected, their weariness was set aside and they rejoiced together.

Any way, any time, we can, within our own lives, our own communities, our own spheres of influence, bring people together, build connection, build community; any way and any time we can say “me too,” say “you’re not alone.”; any way and any time we can rejoice with one another. In those small but powerful acts, we are making straight the way. We are making a path to God.

Think of the child that we baptized this morning - and all children - their paths are unknown and in our weary world, likely anything but straight.

And yet! In Baptism, we say, we promise to this child, to one another, to God:
“I will surround you with love and care.”
“I will show you God’s love with how I live my life.”
“You are part of God’s family and therefore, you will never be alone.”

This is how we make straight the path. We connect with each other, support each other, rejoice with one another. And then we keep on making paths to connect with others, widening our spheres, connecting and rejoicing with more and more people. Until that day when we are all drawn to God and experience more connection and more joy than we’ve ever known in this life.

And until that day…we will keep making paths of connection and paths of joy.

May it be so. Amen.

“How Does A Weary World Rejoice? We Acknowledge Our Weariness” a sermon on Luke 1:1-23, Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19

Luke 1:1-23
Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19
“How Does A Weary World Rejoice? We Acknowledge Our Weariness”
Preached Sunday, November 26, 2023

Today we are starting a new worship & sermon series called “How does a weary world rejoice?” It's based on a line from the first verse of the Christmas carol, “O Holy Night.” The first verse goes (And I’ll say it, won’t sing it):

“O holy night, the stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of the dear Saviour’s birth;
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
'Till he appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn;”

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices.

How does a weary world rejoice?

There are very few people that I have talked to who don’t acknowledge that we live in a weary world: personal loss, short days and dark nights, war and rumors of war, gun violence, strained and broken relationships, poverty, hate crimes…and so much that wears us down, that weighs heavy on our hearts.

So how does a weary world rejoice?

It may seem almost antithetical to rejoice in the midst of our weariness and grief. Whenever I preach at funerals, I like to start my sermon by acknowledging the range of emotions those gathered may be feeling that day. I often say something generally like this:

“I think it is important to take a moment and address and validate the range of emotions you may feel today. Today you will hopefully laugh as you remember the good and funny memories. And those are good to share and to laugh over. Those same memories may make you cry. You may experience bursts of anger or frustration, grief, anxiety...Whatever today brings, know that it is okay to feel what you feel and that you are surrounded today by love - you are not alone.”

Normally when I mention memories that may make people laugh - several do, a light chuckle in the midst of their weariness and grief. They are remembering something that makes them laugh, they are thinking of a memory of joy. Laughing and crying and laughing again…and maybe crying again. The joy and the grief intermingle almost naturally.

Joy is more than happiness or elation - it goes deeper. I won’t go too deeply into my definition of joy this morning but I prefer to think of joy as a sense of a deep trust in God. A sense of hope. Joy is “that thrill of hope” that the hymnist writes about. Trusting that the God that was born into this world in the form of Jesus will come against to save and redeem us. And when we trust in this hope, we have joy - and that can present itself as the ability to laugh, even in grief.

This is what we focus on in the season of Advent, these four weeks of preparation before Christmas. We are remembering the birth of Christ, yes, and we are looking towards Christ’s second coming when the work he began will be completed - and that is the source of our joy, the source of our rejoicing.

That brings us to our theme for this week, our first answer to “How does a weary world rejoice?” We acknowledge our weariness.

I already said that I don’t think any of us would be in denial that our world is weary…for all those reasons previously listed, all that happens in our world that breaks our hearts and the heart of God. So let us look at our Scriptures this morning and how we see reflected in them weariness, hope, and rejoicing.

Zechariah is weary from years of wanting a child and not having one. Weary from the long journey of infertility. Month after month, year after year, not having your hopes fulfilled. Those who have walked this path know how particularly painful and hard it can be. And I want to recognize how the Scripture narratives surrounding Advent and Christmas, of Elizabeth and John, of Mary and Jesus, of miraculous pregnancies and births - how these Scriptures can be particularly triggering and painful for those who have experienced infertility. If this is you, please know that God meets you in your weariness. And, in discussing these narratives in church throughout this season, if you need to excuse yourself to use the restroom, to tune me out, it’s okay. Take care of yourself and your heart.

And so, one day Zechariah is in the temple, fulfilling his priestly duties, and an angel appears before him and tells him, “Your prayer has been heard.”

His prayer for a child. How many years has he been praying that prayer and feeling like it wasn’t being heard? He was in the temple praying when the angel appeared for him - was he praying for a child at the moment? Taking the opportunity while he was in the holy of the holies to lift up his personal petition? Had this prayer worked his way into his litany of prayers that he always offered up? Was he praying with any hope that his prayer would be answered? Or at this point was he just going through the motions - a prayer he had said many times but not a prayer that he felt he had any hope of being answered, praying without hope.

Because his response to hearing his prayer has been heard and is being answered, is not one of rejoicing or gratitude - it is disbelief. And for that, the angel makes him mute until the birth of his son.

How often does the world’s weariness, our weariness, keep us from hoping, from believing that our prayers could be answered? Our prayers for love, for peace, for restoration, for a better world.

How often does the world’s weariness, our weariness, keep us from seeing all the ways our prayers have already been answered? All the love we already have. All the ways in which seeds of peace are being sown. All the ways in which, day by day, small act by small act, our world is being restored, being made better.

How often does the world’s weariness, our weariness, keep us from being our own answer to prayers, being the agents of love, peace and restoration for a better world. Acting even as we pray.

I’m not saying that we can’t or shouldn’t be weary - it’s the reality of our world. If we weren’t experiencing the weariness of the world at all, I’d be worried we’ve closed our hearts off to the pain and suffering in this world. This weary world should break our hearts - break them open, where there can be an outpouring of love and care. Break our hearts open rather than hardening our hearts to the pain - but also to the hope that our prayers could be answered - as could have been the case with Zechariah.

In our other Scripture reading this morning, the psalmist prays over and over: “Restore us, O Lord God of hosts; let your face shine, that we may be saved.”

There are people in the world today praying this prayer. In Israel-Palestine, in Ukraine, in the Mahoning Valley, in our congregation. In the midst of a weary world praying to God for help, for restoration.

Let us not lose hope that these prayers will be answered.

In the midst of a weary world,
God is still acting;
God is still listening;

God will still hold true to God’s promises to come again, and restore us all.

And so, in the midst of a weary world,
We can acknowledge our weariness,
While still praying, still hoping, still rejoicing.
May it be so. Amen.