december 13, 2009

Anna Blaedel
First UMC, Osage
December 13, 2009
3rd Sunday of Advent—REJOICING
Sunday after Youth Lock-In
Philippians 4:4-7; Luke 1:39-45; Luke 1:46b-55


Philippians 4:4-7
Rejoice in the Creator of all life and love always; again I will say, Rejoice!. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. God is near. Do not worry about anything, but share all your desires and dreams with God through prayer, and ask, with gratitude for what has already been given. And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds.

Luke 1:39-45
In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Sprit and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the one you are carrying. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of The Coming One comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my own womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that God would make good on God’s promises.”

Luke 1:46b-55
“My soul magnifies God, and my spirit rejoices in our Creator, for God has looked with favor on this humble one seeking to serve. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is God’s name. God’s mercy is for those who know awe, and joy, from generation to generation. God has shown strength; and has scattered the proud, the unjust, the hypocrite. They get lost in their pride, injustice, and hypocrisy. God has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; God has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. God has helped us, God’s people, in remembrance of God’s merciful promise—a promise made to our ancestors, a promise still good for us, and for our descendants forever.”


I want to begin by sharing one of my favorite poems with you, written by one of my favorite poets. I shared it with you last year. If you are comfortable doing so, I invite you to close your eyes as you listen. “Magnificat,” by Christina Hutchins.

What shall I do
with this quiet joy?
It calls forth the expanse
of my soul, calls
it forth to go singing
through the world,
calls it forth
to rock the cradles of death
gently
and without fear,
to collect the rain
in my spread hands
and spill it
like laughter,
calls it forth
to touch and carry
her suffering, his age
our dense flesh,
to bear into this world
a place
where light will glisten
the edge of every wing
and blade of grass,
shine along every hair on every head,
gleam among the turnings of every wave,
glorify
the turning open of each life,
each human hand.

What shall we do with this quiet joy, calling forth the expanse of our souls, calling us forth to go singing through the world?
Let us pray: Spirit of God, by whose inspiration the records of faith were written, breathe through the speaking and sharing of Scripture that we may know joy, and abound in hope. Amen.

Writer Anne Lamott has written one four-word sentence I have remembered since first stumbling upon it, about four years ago. “Laughter,” she writes, “is carbonated holiness.” Laughter is carbonated holiness. When we give into laughter, when we stop taking ourselves so seriously, when we allow for interruptions of joy, the Spirit bubbles up, the Sacred flows and overflows. Laughter is carbonated holiness. In our joy, we meet God. In our laughter, God meets us.

What shall we do with this quiet joy, calling forth the expanse of our souls, calling us forth to go singing through the world?

One of my dear friends has had a pretty rough year. A loss that still cuts deep, financial insecurity, major life transitions, dislocation, loneliness…these realities have permeated almost every part of her life. She is a person of deep faith. A seminary graduate. A doctoral student in theology. Raised in faith. Nurtured in faith. On her Facebook page, as on every Facebook page, is a space to identify and share “religious view.” Some have, for example, United Methodist. Or, Protestant. Or, Seeker. Or, Disciple. Mine says, “Beloved, with you I am well pleased.” Hers says, simply: “Keep singing.”

Keep singing. What shall we do with this quiet joy, calling forth the expanse of our souls, calling us forth to go singing through the world?

I have a hunch that it is her faith—in love, in Love Incarnate, in hope, in new life, in connection—that has kept her singing, and I have a hunch that her singing has been part of what has gotten her through, and allowed her to experience joy, connection, beauty, and possibility even in the midst and mess of it all.

In the very short letter to the Philippians, the words Joy and Rejoice appear 14 times. I think it is a little too easy to forget what kind of context Paul is writing from. If we envision Paul calling us to rejoice because life is swell, trouble is kept at bay, everyone is healthy and happy and smiling, we miss the whole point. Paul, in his letter to the Philippians, is writing from prison. He is awaiting a trial that could result in his death. The judge and jury have already been revealed to be corrupt, and things don’t look good. He is isolated. Alone. Scared. Almost surely hungry, uncomfortable, in pain. His whole life is hanging by a thread, and there are no guarantees about how the future will unfold. This is the context out of which Paul teaches us and calls us to rejoice. “Rejoice in the Creator always; again I will say, rejoice! Let your gentleness be known to everyone. God is near. Do not worry about anything, but share all your desires and dreams with God through prayer, and ask, with gratitude for what has already been given. And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds.”

Or, shorthand, “keep singing.”

As Karl Barth put it, the joy that Paul describes is a kind of defiant “nevertheless” joy…drawing strength from the enfleshed promise of God-With-Us, and from laying our concerns before God and each other “with gratitude for what has already been given…” This kind of joy takes root even in the darkest of corners, the loneliest of nights, the most feared of moments.

This past week I came across a quote that connects with this morning’s scripture. The words are JoAnn Squier’s. JoAnn was a member of this congregation for many years. After a painful struggle with cancer, JoAnn passed away just over a year ago. Her words were shared by her daughter, Heather Razavy. “Life is what we make it,” she wrote. “There will always be obstacles placed in your path, but they are merely stepping stones to be used to find your way. No matter how difficult the path may seem, there is always light at the end of the tunnel if you but have the faith to keep on traveling until you reach it.”

Defiant, “nevertheless” joy. Keep singing. Keep traveling. Keep praying. Keep praising. Even when the diagnosis comes. Even when the loss hurts. Even when the future remains unknown. Even when the way out doesn’t seem clear.

This is not a call to simply put on your best face, hide your tears and fears, pretend away your pain, look on the bright side. Sometimes Midwesterners, especially United Methodist Midwesterners, are a little too learned in putting our best foot forward, and hiding rather than sharing our burdens. So, this is not “look at how many people are worse off than you,” nor is it “God never gives us more than we can handle,” nor is it “keep praying, and then everything will be ok,” nor is it “it’s not so bad, chin up.” But it is real. Rejoice. Keep singing.

This mornings readings from the gospel of Luke hold some of my favorite pieces and images in scripture, Mary’s Song of joyful praise, the Magnificat. And, two pregnant women, dear friends, greet each other, and the child Elizabeth is carrying leaps for joy. Shared joy. Deep connection. Walking into the future, unafraid, because we are together.

These women sing and share their praise. Before the birth of new life. Before the coming of the ones they carry, and The One who will carry us. Before they know how it will turn out. Before they have the proof that God is at work, coaxing and inviting and creating...While they are still waiting. While they are still worrying. While they are still pregnant with possibility. Spirits rejoicing…The Not-Yet, leaping for joy. The deep Joy of God’s presence, and the hope this gives to how the future might unfold.

I want to end by sharing a video clip with you. It was passed on to me. It is a little silly, and it is very important. It is called “Pink Glove Dance.” Created to bring attention to Breast Cancer awareness, prevention, and survivors.

(show video clip—The Pink Glove Dance—can be found on YouTube—the youth danced down the aisles as the video began, and much to my surprise and delight, the entire congregation stood, joining in the dancing, clapping, and celebration. this was, I believe, nothing short of miraculous!)

Plenty of pain. Lots of loss. Suffering, fear. And yet. Rocking the cradles of death gently, and without fear. Defiant, “nevertheless,” joy. Keep singing. Rejoice! Leap for joy!

What shall we do with this quiet (or not so quiet!!!) joy, calling forth the expanse of our souls, calling us forth to go singing through the world?

Our souls magnify the One creating all life and love, and our spirits rejoice in God-With-Us—God who has been with us, God who is with us now, God who is coming to be with us, anew…

May it be so. Amen.