Image by Yousef Espanioly on Unsplash
In the sixth month,
the angel Gabriel was sent by God
to a town in Galilee called Nazareth,
to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph,
of the house of David.
The virgin’s name was Mary
.And the angel came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.”
But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.
The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom, there will be no end.”
Mary said to the angel, “How can this be since I am a virgin?”
The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.”
Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”
Then the angel departed from her.
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 Spirit, exclaiming with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”
And Mary said,
“My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”
-Gospel: Luke 1:26-55
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Years ago, in a class that was
(in part)
about
counseling and care,
I learned a definition of hope
that was quite helpful at the time.
Hope, this particular definition said,
is the thing that takes place when the future (our future or someone else’s future) seems to open up,
and therefore when new possibilities
for what might still yet-be appear on the horizon.
Speaking negatively, the-opposite-of-hope (then)
takes place when the future seems closed
and all things (therefore) seem impossible.
That is, when there seems to be no way out,
no exit;
or when we’re stuck or trapped
or unable to become ourselves
or to grow into our full potential as they say--
like a tree that’s gotten too big for the pot it was planted in,
and the pot won’t let its roots reach any farther out...
Hope (in this sense) is a larger pot.
Or at least the feeling of the pot beginning to fracture.
+++
At least this is one somewhat helpful definition
in an ongoing conversation that has lasted,
without conclusion,
for thousands upon thousands of years.
+++
Hope is when the possible appears on the horizon
and suddenly the impossible doesn’t seem to be so impossible anymore.
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The goal of counseling from this perspective is arrived at mostly by storytelling and story sharing.
So, for example, when a person tells themself the same story over and over again,
and that sort of drives them into a rut,
“This is who I am and this is all I’ll ever be…”
the goal of the counselor, or the pastor, or (even better) that person’s community, in general,
is to give them (or really to help them to imagine) other options about how the story might end,
and to give them permission to write the next chapter.
That is, the goal is to help each other become “unstuck” so that we can then move on to whatever
abundant and lively and lovely life,
That God might be calling us into next.
This approach is pretty effective, for example,
in recovery groups.
I share my story of recovery.
And then you share yours.
And so do you, and you, and you, and you, and you, and you, and you.
And suddenly, upon listening, the newcomer in the room
who perhaps saw no way out before,
for a moment, maybe catches a glimpse of what could be.
And, catching a glimpse, maybe she starts to believe that change is possible.
And suddenly, change is not just possible. It actually happens.
And that person, thinking this was the end of her novel,
now simply starts to enter into a new chapter.
The planting pot bursts and she’s able to plant her roots in more nutritious soil.
The method works for a ton of people, who find hope
and start again
every day.
+++
My struggle with thinking about hope only in this way
(only in this important way)
is that a big open future in front of us,
the opening up of possibilities on the horizon
the inkling of the nearness of something new
doesn’t always mean that something good is on its way.
Or that, whatever it is, we’re gonna feel good about it.
In fact, sometimes all of those possibilities
(and the unknown in general)
are terrifying.
The same arrival of possibilities,
greeted with joy and singing by some
Might also be received as scary and undesirable and disruptive of whatever little bit of peace we might have left in life.
Said again, one person’s open and exciting and beautiful future
is another person’s gaping and anxiety-producing infinite abyss.
In such instances, we need more than success stories,
I think.
We need someone who is with us,
alongside us,
helping us on our way.
+++
The Greek word ἄγγελος, translated in our English translations of the bible as “angel,” can simply be translated as “messenger.”
That’s, in fact, what ἄγγελος most literally means.
Someone like Hermes who brings a message from someone important.
Or:
Someone like an oracle who comes to announce the next chapter when you didn’t even know this one was coming to a close.
Or:
Someone like the postal worker who brings you your Christmas cards and your bills--news, info, and glad tidings, all simply handed off or placed in a box, passed to you, by way of the postal worker, from someone else.
Of course, in the bible, an angel is much more than that.
In the bible, an angel is someone who resides in God’s presence, gathered around God’s throne, singing and praising and basking in the Glory of the Lord.
And so when an angel appears to humans, it’s not just with a message. That angel brings something of God’s presence.
So much
so,
that sometimes after an encounter with an angel,
at least according to the artists who have often depicted such encounters,
the one who had the encounter is “glowing.”
That is, they, like the angel, carry something of God’s light with them as they go on their way.
Such is the case with Mary of Nazareth, who runs to meet her cousin Elizabeth, full of song, and radiant with God’s presence today.
+++
2020 has been a difficult year.
To say the least.
I’m confident I don’t need to repeat to you all of the reasons why.
Certainly, at times, it has been a year of staring out into the infinite abyss.
Waiting for what horrible or depressing thing will happen next.
Perhaps this year has made Advent - our season of waiting and of hope - all the stranger. And perhaps it has made it all the more appropriate.
+++
We spoke in confirmation a couple of weeks ago about our Advent wreath.
We talked about how the ever-greenery in the circle is a sign of life even when we seem to be surrounded by mortality and death.
We talked about how, as each candle is lit, each week in Advent, even as we approach the longest night of the year (which is tomorrow, buy the way),
we promise one another that the Day, despite what it looks like outside, will actually come and arrive again.
This, says the roundness of the wreath, is a cycle, and not the end.
We also talked about how the colors of Advent - deep blue, purples, pinks… are the colors of the midnight sky,
and the colors of the horizon just as and just before the sun begins to come up.
We also talked about how the final candle that we light on Christmas is the candle of the incarnation, of Christ, the light of the world. And not only in his power to illuminate, but also as Immanuel, God’s presence with us--and God’s presence that continues to burn in us, helping us to glimpse the abundant future that God does have for us in God’s presence--not as the infinite abyss alone, but also as the beautiful banquet of Love.
+++
As the next months remain uncertain,
due to the pandemic or due to everyday life situations,
may this our Advent discipline of watching and waiting, of singing and of candle-lighting, perhaps, help.
May it help us tease out of our life situations the presence of God that we didn’t even know was there.
May it help us imagine the next chapters.
And may it burst the pots that contain us and keep us from growing.
And when we cannot imagine, when we cannot seem to find a way out,
when there seems only chaos and uncertainty,
may we be assured of Christ’s presence already here within and among us.
And when that even seems not-so-possible for many of us,
may we find God’s calling upon our lives
as community
and as the Gethsemane community
to be the ἄγγελοι - the messengers - and even the presence of God to one another.
May we be that presence to one another when the other cannot yet believe.
And when it’s not possible for us,
When it’s not possible for us to feel that presence, to hope, to look forward to what’s to come,
may others, may you all, may our community, may the Gethsemane community, may those we call family here,
be God’s presence and light to us,
until that day comes when,
perhaps,
we might hope again.
However we greet the new morn,
may we rest assured that as a community,
and as a community of faith,
we’ll never have to do it alone.
Amen.
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