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Advent 2 C 2012 December 9, 2012 Pastor Dena Williams Denver, CO Malachi 3:1-4 PsalmLuke 1:68-79 Philippians 1:3-11 Luke 3:1-6 The Holy Gospel according to the Community of St. Luke in the 3rd Chapter Glory to you, O Lord Luke 3:1-6 In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. He went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins,

as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah, "The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: 'Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.'" The Gospel of the Lord Praise to you, O Christ Repentance, While We Wait Welcome to the Second Sunday in Advent. Welcome John the Baptist. We meet him every year on the Second Sunday in Advent. He makes us uncomfortable. John the Baptist reminds us that the time is not yet at hand, that there is work to be done while we wait. Not work that will earn us a Savior in a manger, not work that will earn us our salvation, but work to be done in loving response to Gods graceful gift to us. What is this work? John the Baptist tells us every year on the second Sunday of Advent, the work to be done is the work of repentance. I was a school teacher in my first career. My first teaching job was at a Catholic middle school in St. Joseph, Iowa where I taught grades 7 and 8 science classes. This rural parish was bound by tradition. I went to Mass every morning with my students.

Two orders of nuns, the sisters of the order of St. Francis, and the sisters of the order of The Presentation made up most of the faculty. The Presentation sisters still wore habits. I was the only Protestant on the faculty in this system that included Kindergarten through 12th graders. I had children in my classes who had 15 or 16 brothers and sisters. Every Thursday I took one of my classes to the church for Confession. Father John would be waiting for them inside the confessional. One by one they would enter that small, dark space, and close the door. The children did not seem particularly apprehensive. There was the usual amount of squirming and whispering among those who knelt in the pews waiting their turn. Confession seemed to be just another part of the weekly routine. Each confession went rather quickly. A child entered. We heard soft muted voices, the words being said were indistinguishable. The child emerged, none the worse for the wear. One day, Eric, a thirteen-year-old farm boy, tall for his age, entered the confessional. Those of us waiting in the pews heard the usual soft voices as Father John asked the usual questions. How long has it been since your last confession? and so forth. We heard Erics muted voice as he answered each question. After one such answer, there was a pause . . . and then,

we heard Father John shout, You did WHAT? We heard Eric make frantic explanations. There was more conversation. Then, finally, Eric emerged, red in the face, hurried to the nearest pew and dropped to his knees. We never learned what it was Eric did, but the mood changed. The remaining children approached the confessional with hesitancy and dread, searching their souls, I think, in ways they never did before. The lesson learned that day was confession was more than routine, it was to be taken seriously, it wasnt supposed to be a particularly pleasant experience. John the Baptist proclaims a baptism of repentance. What does it mean to repent? Literally, the word repent means to turn around. To repent, to turn away from sin, to turn toward God. I am reminded of the Quaker Hymn that concludes: When true simplicity is gained, to bow and to bend, we shant be ashamed, to turn, turn shall be our delight, til by turning, turning we come round right. It is a hymn of repentance. How does this turning away from sin, this turning toward God, happen in our lives? How do we repent? Repentance begins with confession. We ask forgiveness for all the sins we have committed and for what we have left undone in our lives, sins of omission. We confess, we come before God with contrite hearts,

we say were sorry. This is how repentance begins. Confession is the beginning of repentance, but it is only the beginning. Repentance is not just about the past, it is primarily about the future. Saying were sorry, confessing, only to repeat our sin is not true repentance. Repentance calls us beyond confession. Repentance calls us to do our best to make things right. Repentance calls us to do our best to not repeat our sin. To confess, to make things right, to forsake our sin these are the steps that lead to true repentance. At home, at work, at school, in our congregation, in all our relationships, we are called to repentance that leads to love. If I asked each of you what it is you most want in relationships, if you were completely truthful . . . you would describe love love that includes honesty, trust, forgiveness, support, kindness, politeness. Love is what we seek in relationships with one another, even when we cannot articulate our need. With my friend, Mary, I traveled to the city of Cuernavaca, in the state of Morelos, in the South of Mexico, several years ago. We spent our days learning about the people, the culture, the economy, the environment, in and around the community of Cuernavaca. We visited those in need in need of homes, in need of food, in need of plumbing, heat, and electricity.

We visited those in need of a living wage, in need of education for themselves and their children. We visited those in need of security and safety, those whose very lives are threatened by poverty. We went to churches, community centers. We visited in homes in town and in the countryside. We visited a small rural village, a town of indigenous people, people who lived on this land for hundreds and hundreds of years. The economy of the community was once based on cotton and corn. Trade agreements affected the economy in such a way that farming is no longer profitable. There are few opportunities for employment. Some of the men go to the city to work during the week. Many others come to the United States in order to send money home to their families. We visited a community center in this village. The center is directed by an elderly woman named Sirena, Sirena, which means mermaid. She spends her days providing leadership and oversight of the library, literacy programs, classes in self esteem, an artisans coop, the preschool, activities for teenagers, women, and children, community festivals, classes in the indigenous language. When asked about funding resources, asked to approximate the annual budget, Sirena shrugs her shoulders and says, God provides, more some years, less some years. The chief commodity in the community center, is not money, it is love, love that includes honesty, trust, forgiveness, support, kindness, politeness. Love that reflects Gods love, often the only resource available,

is shared freely among the women, children, and families of this village. There are many stories to tell from our immersion experience. We need to move beyond stories, as well. We need to talk about the kinds of systemic change necessary to bring justice and peace to our world. Reduction of Mexicos debt to the world bank, the renegotiation of trade agreements, the recognition of basic human rights, immigration reform: it is important we address these systemic problems, as well as providing direct support to those in need. We need to talk about these things. Today, though, we need to talk about the chief commodity found in Sirenas community, the commodity of love. As Mary and I listened to stories, visited, and were served lunch by the women, in an outside pavilion, near the lagoon, I was most intrigued by the love given and received in this place. It seemed, although, there were few other resources, there was love enough for one another, love enough for everyone, even love left over to share with a group of gringos from Colorado. As we shared stories and food and love with these brothers and sisters, I thought of our community, I thought about the love present in our community. We have many other resources, we have food and shelter and power, we are not solely dependent on love to get us through, to draw us together.

We are not solely dependent on love, but what if we began to act as though we were? What if we began to act as though love was the only thing we have to share with one another? Wonder how that would change our community of faith? Wonder how it would change how we do ministry in and from this place? Wonder how we would care for one another? I wondered about these things, about love. What if we turned toward love as though love was all we had left? I thought about this community, my community of faith. Then on the flight home, Mary read aloud to me the lessons for today. She read from Pauls letter to the church at Philippi, a letter written while Paul was on a mission trip to another village in another country, a letter written to the community of faith he left behind, a community of faith he loved. The letter: From Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ, To all the Saints in Christ Jesus who are in Philippi . . . grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you, because of your sharing in the gospel from the first day until now. I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work

among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ. It is right for me to think this way about all of you, because you hold me in your heart, for all of you share in God's grace with me, both in my imprisonment and in the defense and confirmation of the gospel. For God is my witness, how I long for all of you with the compassion of Christ Jesus. And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight to help you to determine what is best, so that in the day of Christ you may be pure and blameless, having produced the harvest of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit. ... A letter from Pastor Dena Williams To all the Saints in Christ Jesus, Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you, because of your sharing in the gospel from the first day until now.

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I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among us will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ. It is right for me to think this way about all of you, because you hold me in your heart, for all of you share in God's grace with me, in the defense and confirmation of the gospel. As God is my witness, how I long for all of you with the compassion of Christ Jesus. And this is my prayer, that our love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight to help us to determine what is best, so that in the day of Christ we may be pure and blameless, having produced the harvest of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit. Amen