Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood
First Congregational UCC, Manhattan, KS
December 6, 2015
Sermon Text: Luke 3:1-6
Another week, another
shooting. More than one, actually. The world continues to be beset by violence.
Politicians continue to wring their hands and tweet their prayers. Nothing much
seems to change.
Three years ago on a Sunday
in Advent, Christians gathered on a Sunday morning just after the massacre at
Sandy Hook. Pastors attempted to grapple with the seemingly-impossible task of
reconciling a week dedicated to Joy with the incomprehensible evil unleashed
earlier that same week.
Another year, another attempt
to do something similar. How can we have the audacity to gather here and speak
of Peace in the midst of so much violence?
On the other hand, how can we
do anything else?
Last Sunday we spoke of Hope.
On Tuesday night, we gathered with 30-some people from the wider community in
Pioneer Hall. As we sat in that room, built by people who traveled across this
continent to seek freedom for enslaved Americans, the spirit of hope was
strong. We shared names of those who have died from AIDS-related complications
or who are currently living with HIV and AIDS. And we sang the words of a hymn
was perfect for that evening and takes on new meaning once-again this morning,
“Let us hope when hope seems hopeless, when the dreams we dream have died.”
When our dreams are on the
verge of death, when hope is elusive, that’s when we have to gather, once
again, to cry out to our God, to offer each other words of encouragement, and
to light a candle in the darkness. It is the time to listen closely to the
voices of prophets – those in the past and those living still.
The Prophet Isaiah: “The
people who are walking in darkness will see a great light.”
The Gospel of John: “The
Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”
Jesus: “I am the light of the
world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of
life.”
When the world grows dark and
fear presses in on all sides, we who follow the one who is called “Light of the
World.” We light candles for Hope. Candles for Peace.
But we do more than light
candles and pray. We are called to action.
Today’s text from Luke is one
of those calls to action: “John the Baptizer went into all the region around
the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.”
Crying out: “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.”
John didn’t say, “Pray for
peace.” John said, “Make peace.” And, yes, we can get into semantics about
prayer being action and action being prayer. I do believe prayer is absolutely
vital for any person of faith. It is what keeps us grounded and sustained for
the work. It's where we begin. But if we’re using a narrow definition of prayer
as “talking to God” then prayer is simply not enough. I do not experience God
as some magic unicorn in the sky who listens in to all our prayers and then
selectively decides where to intervene.
Prayer has to be more than talking
or listening to God. Those are both important things, but we are also called to
much more. John says we are to prepare the way for God. And not in some
loosey-goosey, wishy-washy kind of way. Nope. We don’t get off that easy.
John tell us we have to move
mountains! We have to carve out new highways for God. We have to bring in
truckload after truckload of fresh fill dirt to bring the low places up. We
have to chip away relentlessly at the mountains that stand in the way of
justice until the mountains themselves are brought low. We have to bend and
bend that arc of justice until the crooked paths are brought into alignment. We
have to scratch and buff and shine and polish until all of the rough parts of
this Earth are made smooth.
Please note that John does
not say God will be doing all of these things without our help. John says it is
our work to do together. We are called to work in sweet and holy partnership
with our God. We do not do this work alone.
It’s an intimate and
never-ending dance between God and her holy creation. Each of us, it seems to
me, is imbued with the Holy God of Love. We are created in God’s image and that
spark of the Divine will never leave us – no matter what we do. God is in each
and every person – even the ones we don’t much like, even the ones that are
outcasts, even in you and me.
But God is also somehow
beyond all of that. If you were to somehow round up every human on the planet
and put them in one room and say, “Now that all the humans are here, have we
captured God?” I think the answer would be no. God is not some dude in the sky,
but God is also – it seems to me – more than just the sum of our parts. Don’t
ask me to explain it. I don’t understand it fully. But I experience God in each
human I encounter and I experience that God is somehow more and beyond
humanity.
So when the New York Post
screams, “God isn’t fixing this!” they seem to be sort of right and sort of
wrong. I don’t think God is swooping down from the heavens to fix everything
that’s wrong with our world. If God could do that, she has some pretty serious
explaining to do about why she hasn’t done so yet because violence is nothing
new.
But I also think it’s
entirely appropriate to call upon God as we humans figure out what the heck
we’re going to do to bring peace to our world. As we pray with our feet and our
hands and our hearts and our voices, we rely on God to support, sustain, and
inspire us. We find God in the words of our Holy Scriptures, the stories we
share with one another. We find God on the breath of the breeze and in the
infinite complexity of a snowflake. We find God in the smile of a stranger and
the laughter of a child. We find God in the heart of those we call beloved and within
ourselves.
We cling to that small light
in the darkness and hold it up, shining brightly, brilliantly in protest
against violence, fear, hatred, and everything else that threatens God’s Holy
Peace.
It’s a joint venture. We need
God. God needs us. We cannot separate ourselves one from another. It’s
both-and. We do not do it alone and God cannot do it without us.
As the days grow shorter and
the darkness closes in, we await, once again, the coming of Christ. In ways I
don’t fully understand, God seems to have come into the darkness of the world
in the form of a tiny infant, born to unwed parents who had no place warm to
stay. That young child spent his formative years as a refugee. And as he grew
into an adult, his cousin John urged his followers to prepare the way for God
to be born anew, once again into their midst.
And so we who find meaning in
following Jesus gather, once again, to await Christ’s coming. We wait in Hope.
We pray for Peace. We look expectantly for Joy. We seek to reform our very
lives in the spirit of Love.
Come to us, O Holy One. Show
us your ways of peace. Inspire us to action. Sustain us when we are weary. Be
with us now. Amen.
