Sunday, December 23, 2012

Artists of the Impossible -- A Sermon for Advent 4

A sermon preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, December 23, 2012

On Tuesday night, a couple hundred of us gathered here for a time of remembrance and prayer, and then we processed from this place over to the steps of Central Library. And we stood in silence with candles in our hands as the big bell of this Cathedral tolled and, one by one, names were read. Names of children murdered in Connecticut just days before. Names of men, women and, yes, children killed with guns in our own city in the past year.

The names went on … and on … and on. It seemed like they would never stop. And when they did, there was this pause, a few moments where all those names just hung in the air around us. A pause where, if we had stopped there, we would have left that place being overwhelmed by the enormity of the tragedy and believing we were powerless to do anything about it. A pause that, if we had stopped there, might have left us believing that fear and death actually did get the last word.

But it was only a pause. Because we did not stop there. There was one thing left to say. And so Mayor Slay stepped to the microphone, and he read these words from Marianne Williamson:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world.
There's nothing enlightened about shrinking
so that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.

It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine,
we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear, Our presence automatically liberates others.

We read those words because our job as the church is to call the world back to its deepest identity. To remind the world that we are all children of God and that God dreams for us to be God’s glory in the world and become fully alive. To remind the world that we were not created to cower before darkness and death but that light and life always get the last word.

We’ve had quite a journey together this Advent. On the first Sunday of Advent, we named the world we live in. We named all those things that aren't OK. We said, "God, you want to know how it's going? Well THIS is how it's going!" And we put those things on the altar, and we left the next move to God.

Then on the second Sunday of Advent, we heard God’s move. We heard the voice of one crying in the wilderness. Saying that where God wants to be is right in the middle of all that stuff. That God wants to be in that middle seat right in between the face we present to the world and the backstage reality of our life.

Then last Sunday, we lit the rose colored candle and remembered that we are people of a song, and that song is Hallelujah. And that we sing Hallelujah because we know Christ is right here, singing with us. We sing Hallelujah by giving in the face of scarcity and loving in the face of fear.

And so this Sunday, the last Sunday before Christmas, just before this place is transformed with greenery and filled with carols, this fourth Sunday of Advent, we are reminded that our song of Hallelujah, our testament of hope is not meant for our own comfort but for the transforming of the world.

The lectionary this year skips over the annunciation story, and it seems like a curious choice. It’s hard to imagine Advent without Gabriel appearing to Mary. Without her incredulous “How can this be?” Without the angel’s stunning declaration that “nothing will be impossible with God.”

But instead, we get this story of Mary and Elizabeth. Of Mary, having said yes to the gloriously impossible possibility of bearing the Christ, not staying safe in her home but going out into the world. And listen to Elizabeth’s reaction when she just hears Mary’s greeting:

When Elizabeth heard Mary's greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.”

That’s what happens when God comes near to us. When God comes near, I mean when we really know that God has come near, something in us stirs. Something in us leaps for joy. Something in us, something deep in us, says YES … that’s the stuff. THAT is what it means to be truly, fully alive.

I am the child of two scientists – two astronomers – so the whole idea of science being incompatible with faith has never made sense to me. What we can learn about creation from those things we can see and measure is amazing and needs to be taken seriously because it gives us a window into the beauty and power of God the creator.

But something has happened to the world as we have begun to trust only those things we can see and measure. As logic and practicality become the only altars at which we worship.

As that happens, we forget that the deepest truths, the most glorious possibilities, the most profound hopes are beyond logic and practicality. We forget that when we allow ourselves to be bound by the limits of only what we can see and measure, by the limits of what seems logical and practical, we lose the deepest part of our humanity created in the image of God.

And that is where we as Christians come in. We who stand at the grave and sing, “Hallelujah!” We who trust that we are children of God born to do nothing less than make manifest the glory of God that is within us, not just in some of us but in every one. We who, with Mary, by our very presence, announce to the world that God has come near. That’s where we come in.

You’ve probably heard people in Washington and elsewhere quote that “politics is the art of the possible.” And that may be so. But as Christians, the possible is not our craft. Announcing that God has come near is. Calling people beyond the limits of what seems logical and practical is.

Faith is our craft. And faith is the art of the impossible. And we stand on the shoulders of a long line of artists who have refused to be bound by the world’s ideas of what is practical and logical and possible, and in so doing have changed the world.

We are artists of the impossible of the line of David, who stood unafraid before Goliath because he knew that you measured a giant not by the size of his stature but by the size of our God.

We are artists of the impossible of the line of Mary, who believed it when Gabriel said that nothing would be impossible with God … and who didn’t just keep that belief to herself but awakened it with leaps of the joy in the hearts of others.

We are artists of the impossible in the line of the prophets and martyrs of the civil rights movement in this country … who believed that the forces of Jim Crow and racial hatred could not stand against the awakened conscience of a nation.

We are artists of the impossible in the line of Becca Stevens and the women of Magdalene, Nashville and soon here in St. Louis, who show us that there is no depth of abuse and brokenness from which one cannot be rescued by a greater depth of love.

And so this fourth Sunday of Advent, we remember that we are artists of the impossible. And that like last Tuesday night, we gather here to be sent out there.

To stand in the midst of that pause where the world is tempted to believe that fear and death get the last word.

To stand in the midst of that pause where we are tempted to shrink back and play small lest someone think we are impractical or even crazy.

To stand in the midst of that pause where the world is tempted to be resigned to the inevitability of the way things are and to awaken in others what we claim for ourselves … that God has come near. That we are all children of God and there is no darkness so deep, no brokenness so profound, no evil so intractable that it cannot be touched and transformed and brought to wholeness by the surpassing love of God in Jesus Christ.

You know, I often wonder if Advent doesn’t just really annoy God. I wonder if God doesn’t roll the divine eyes just a little bit every year as we bring out the candles and the wreath and talk about waiting for the coming of Christ. That’s because I wonder if Advent isn’t so much the time of our patient waiting but God’s.

Because that’s what’s really happening, isn’t it?\ We’re not waiting for Christ. Christ is here. Christ has been here all along.

What’s really happening is Christ is waiting for us. Waiting for us this year more than the last to stop fearing the light that is in us. Waiting for us this year more than the last to pull out all the stops and make manifest the glory of God that is within us. Waiting for us this year more than the last to sing out loud that Hallelujah that reminds the world that fear and death doesn’t get the last word, that the light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not and will never overcome it.

We’ve spent four Sundays waiting for the coming of Christ. And it turns out it was the other way around the whole time. It’s Christ who has been waiting for us. Waiting for us to embrace the work of Christmas. To take what we have found in here and birth it out there. To by our very presence cause babes to leap in wombs and people to sing praises to God. To show the world that God has come near … and to embrace our destiny as artists of the impossible. AMEN.


Sunday, December 16, 2012

"Hallelujah" -- A sermon for Advent III

A sermon preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, December 16, 2012

Opened playing the first three verses of Jeff Buckley's cover of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah (click to hear)

I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this -- The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah.

(all sing)
Hallelujah. Hallelujah
Hallelujah. Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

(all sing)
Hallelujah. Hallelujah
Hallelujah. Hallelujah

Baby I’ve been here before
I know this room, I’ve walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch
But Love is not a victory march
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah.

(all sing)
Hallelujah. Hallelujah
Hallelujah. Hallelujah

We Christians are a peculiar people.

We love our enemies, and we pray for those who persecute us.

When someone strikes us on one cheek, we turn the other one.

We pledge our lives to a refugee child born in a barn, and we stare down great empires armed with nothing but love.

But perhaps there is nothing more peculiar about us than our song.

And our song is this: Hallelujah.

Now, lots of people sing Hallelujah. Everyone sings it at a birth. Everyone sings it at a wedding. Or a party. Or a reunion of long separated friends and lovers. Hallelujah. Halleljuah. Hallelujah.

What’s peculiar about us is when we sing it. We sing it always.

We sing Hallelujah in life's highest peaks and deepest valleys. We sing Hallelujah on our brightest days and in the middle of our darkest nights. We sing Hallelujah when we've got it all figured out, and we sing Hallelujah when nothing makes sense.

And at the end of life, when we go down to the dust, even at the grave we make our song:

Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah.

The first Sunday of Advent, we named the world we live in. We named all those things that aren't OK. We said, "God, you want to know how it's going? Well THIS is how it's going!" And we put those things on the altar, and we left the next move to God.

Then last Sunday, the second Sunday of Advent, we heard God’s move. We heard the voice of one crying in the wilderness. Saying that where God wants to be is right in the middle of all that stuff. That God wants to be in that middle seat right in between the face we present to the world and the backstage reality of our life. We named the hope -- the coming of Jesus -- that allows us to be not of this world even while we are in it.

Today is the third Sunday of Advent. It's called Rose Sunday. This Sunday we light the rose colored candle. In the midst of the quiet, even somber preparations of Advent, this Sunday is a spark of celebration, a reminder that even in the night of expectation, the joy of Christ cannot be contained. A reminder that we are people of a song, and that song is Hallelujah.

How do we prepare for the coming of Christ? We sing. We sing our song. We sing the song of a people who know that Christ is coming and is already here. We sing Hallelujah.

One of my heroes of the faith is Louie Crew. Louie grew up in Alabama in the 1940s and 50s, which wasn’t the easiest place to grow up if you’re realizing you’re gay. He came out while at grad school at Auburn and in 1973, met Ernest and they fell in love. Louie was white, Ernest was black. Gay and interracial in Alabama in the 1970s. Not exactly Dale Carnegie's recipe for how to win friends and influence people!

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Gary Johnson's "Postcard from Sudan" - Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Here's the latest posting from CCC's Gary Johnson, on pilgrimage with a team from the DIocese of Missouri to Lui, Sudan. Please keep Gary and the rest of the mission team in your prayers and check back here and at http://luinetwork.diocesemo.org/

We are waiting for the car to drive us to the airport which is a combination of dirt and crushed granite. We are flying out on a Cessna 9 seater.

I can't wait o get home and see Linda and our pack. But I'm also sad because of the people I'm leaving behind. The people of South Sudan and incredibly friendly and happy. I have to remind myself that the war has only been over for about 5 years. There is so much need no matter where you look. It can be overwhelming but I remind myself of the saying " How do you eat an elephant......One bite at a time. This is how you have to approach problems in South Sudan. Part of our team this will be their second or third visit and they are amazed at the progress since their last visit.

We will not arrive in St. Louis until the late afternoon onWednesday the 13th.

Monday, December 10, 2012

Gary Johnson's "Postcard from Sudan" - Monday, December 10, 2012

Here's the latest posting from CCC's Gary Johnson, on pilgrimage with a team from the DIocese of Missouri to Lui, Sudan. Please keep Gary and the rest of the mission team in your prayers and check back here and at http://luinetwork.diocesemo.org/

Today has been a great day we are finished with our classes and this is down time for us. Went up to the Mothers Union to see if any machines need repaired. Ran into Jeannie and Pauline who were on there way to see Lillibeth's home.

I was invited o go along. Lillibeth is being sponsored by Jeannie who's a teacher from England and part of our team. Lillibeth will go to a teachers school her tuition is being paid by Jeannie and other teachers back in England. We arrived in Lillibeth's compound all of which are Tukals the mud huts with thatched roofs. We met with her father and stepmother and oldest brother. The father and her oldest brother grilled us for about 20 mins. At which point he looked at me and said this is good. I felt really good about the fact we were grilled by both of them. Lillibeth will be a great student and will graduate in 4 years. The oldest son is also going to school and during our coversation asked Jeannie to send the school info to his brother and gave her his brothers email address. I often feel like I'm in parallel universe when in Lui. Here we are sitting outside of several mud huts and trading email address. Most email is done through email account on their cell phones. To show their gratitude we were given a ten pound bag of peanuts and 4 fresh eggs. The peanuts are dried but not roasted and have a great flavor.

I love their toothbrushes here they take a certain type of stick and chew on it until it's frayed. Then it is used as their toothbrush. They seem to do a great job and just the action of chewing on the stick cleans their teeth.

Will be leaving tomorrow for home but will not be back in St.Louis until the 13th. Will be nice to get home and actually hold and kiss Linda my wife. But a part of my heart will be left in Lui.

Friday, December 7, 2012

Gary Johnson's "Postcard from Sudan" - Friday, December 7, 2012

Here's the latest posting from CCC's Gary Johnson, on pilgrimage with a team from the DIocese of Missouri to Lui, Sudan. Please keep Gary and the rest of the mission team in your prayers and check back here and at http://luinetwork.diocesemo.org/

Last night around 10:00pm drums started and the wailing began. This is the start of mourning for a women who had died in the hospital. I awoke around 2:30am and it was going stronger than earlier but the wailing only goes on during the very beginning. The hospital is only about a 1/2 mile away. The drums finally stopped at about 11:30am today. If we didn't have people to tell us differently you would think it was a huge party.

We have been without solar power since Monday the third. Which out solar power we have no internet service. I went to the Market yesterday and they are out of phone-cards which are needed to make cell phone calls.

Had our Graduation of the Carpentry Class and also the Mothers Union Sewing Class. Two of our team members Jeanie & Pauline from England made hand made certificates for each person graduating. I then put each person name on the certificate. The Bishop put his seal on them and we had a ceremony in front of the church under the LARO tree. Think of a town square and this is what the LARO tree is to them. The same exact tree was used to sell slaves, it's huge and very old and very important to the people of Lui.

Sudan Observations;

No running water outside of the larger cities and then very limited.
No trash-cans or trash service anywhere
No stop signs or traffic signals anywhere
No street signs or any address on homes
No electric poles or telephone poles ( Generator power only)
No white noise during the day or night
No light pollution at night, there are literally thousands of stars you can see at night. I can set outside just looking up at the stars for hours.
No diapers of any type
Paved roads in the cities none once you leave the cities
No children's toys in the local markets, a ball is the best you can find
Getting use to seeing men walking down the road with automatic weapons
Seeing men who are missing a hand from being cut off during the war
Seeing a women cooking on a very primitive charcoal stove but talking on a cell phone
There are probably more termites in Africa than stars in the sky, a huge problem for anything built with wood.

The Dean of the Cathedral just sent a messenger with a formal letter requesting a meeting for today at 4:30pm. We are having conversations on ways to bring our Cathedral and Fraser Cathedral closer together. We met his afternoon and the meeting was very productive.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Gary Johnson's "Postcard from Sudan" - Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Here's the latest posting from CCC's Gary Johnson, on pilgrimage with a team from the DIocese of Missouri to Lui, Sudan. Please keep Gary and the rest of the mission team in your prayers and check back here and at http://luinetwork.diocesemo.org/

We finished the ten chairs that the carpentry students have been working on. Bishop Stephan loved the chairs. He asked that we could put them on a concrete pad that was once the floor of his Tukul which collapsed after the last rainy season. The thatch gets water logged and the weight causes the walls to collapse. The concrete pad is near his new Tukul.

The Bishop invited us for dinner which by Lui standards was a true feast. The food was excellent there was thirteen of us sitting around a table that the Carpentry Class had built and dined by candle light (Candle light because of no electricity). With very limited resources Bishop Stephan and Lillian had set a wonderful table. Apparently the Bishop has never invited a group of this size to dinner. I personally think he was so excited to have a table to be able to seat his guest is why we were all invited. Before dinner and after we all sat outside in the chairs the carpentry class had built and drank tea and coffee.

Sitting on the patio after dinner it dawned on me that I was sitting in a country that was only 18 months old. There is need everywhere you look and you are starting from the beginning at almost all levels. None of the homes has address or street names, so there is no postal services. Trashcans are almost non existent or trash pick up, there is very little trash generated that isn't reused in some form or another. Most people have a pile in their compound that's burnt once a week. To travel to Juba which is 110 miles away takes 6 to 8 hours due to the road conditions.

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Gary Johnson's "Postcard from Sudan" -- Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Here's the latest posting from CCC's Gary Johnson, on pilgrimage with a team from the DIocese of Missouri to Lui, Sudan. Please keep Gary and the rest of the mission team in your prayers and check back here and at http://luinetwork.diocesemo.org/

Had a great breeze last night so I slept well.

The solar power that supplies electric to the Diocesan Office went down on Monday morning. Which caused us to have no internet. They called in an Engineer who works at the hospital just up the road. The engineer came out around 10:00am and diagnosed the problems this morning. Our batteries had gotten to low and we had three trees blocking the panels as the sun moved across the sky. We cleared the three trees and should have electric back on by 2:00pm today. But this is South Sudan discovered that the batteries were so low that they wouldn't hold a charge. We may have electric for the internet in two days or two weeks. The machete used on a 12" diameter tree brought it down in about 15 mins. If you haven't heard from any of us this would be the cause.

The guys in the Carpentry class are doing great they are finishing up their second projects today. We will then be moving onto building simple trusses and other forms of roof supports. I'm impressed with their ability to be shown something once and pick it up. I've stood back on this project to watch them use their own problem solving skills. They might choose a different path on solving a problem but end up with the correct answer. We are both learning a lot.

Couple of the things I forgot to add about Sunday and going to church was that out in front of the Cathedral there were two men with drums and a small fire. The drumheads were covered in animal skin, they would place the head of the drum near the fire bring it back up and play it. This went on several times until I figured out that they were tuning the drums for the hymns selected for that Sunday by heating the skin. I also noticed several men who have one hand cut off from the war. They'll cut off the right hand of a right handed person or the left hand of a left handed person it's part of Sharia Law. To make someone eat with the same hand as they wipe with is considered the ultimate insult on many levels not only in South Sudan but across Africa.

The food continues to be good, but it should be considering all the meat we eat is Organic, hormone free and without a doubt free range.

Monday, December 3, 2012

Gary Johnson's "Postcard from Sudan" -- Sunday, December 2, 2012

Here's the latest posting from CCC's Gary Johnson, on pilgrimage with a team from the DIocese of Missouri to Lui, Sudan. Please keep Gary and the rest of the mission team in your prayers and check back here and at http://luinetwork.diocesemo.org/

Didn't sleep well last night, it was the hottest since I've been here. Finally found a position with no skin to skin contact that allowed me to go to sleep. Which is important when you have high humidly. The heat was the main topic of conversation around the breakfast table.

Celebrated our first Sunday in the South Sudan, it was very interesting. We went to the Cathedral for the English Service at 9:00. We were treated as Honored Guest and as such we sat on the Alter. They are using the prayerbook from 1662 which made following the service interesting. Half of the hymns were sung in English and the other half in what's known as Juba Arabic. The offertory is done by one person standing in front of the congregation with a velveteen bag and each person goes up and puts in their money. There is a 11:00 service at the Cathedral done in Moro which is the native tongue of this area. There are many different dialects/Languages in this part of South Sudan, but the predominant languages are Moro and Juba Arabic. The Dean processed out of the Cathedral at the end of the service along with the congregation and we were greeted by each as we left including shaking hands.

I did make three dehydration trays today out of bamboo. They basically have very little skills when it comes to drying or preserving food. We have a couple of people who on our team who are working on setting up basic canning and dehydrating food. I was asked to build trays with screen on them as models for them to build their own dehydration trays. When making or doing anything in Sudan you have to factor in..... Is this sustainable. Screening can be purchased at the Market, however lumber is expensive so we took bamboo and split it done the middle and the screening will be sewed around the bamboo frame.

It's been a great day.

Gary Johnson's "Postcard from Sudan" - Monday, December 3, 2012

Here's the latest posting from CCC's Gary Johnson, on pilgrimage with a team from the DIocese of Missouri to Lui, Sudan. Please keep Gary and the rest of the mission team in your prayers and check back here and at http://luinetwork.diocesemo.org/

A few of us were at the market today and ran into Bishop Stephen who invited us to go look at a wood burning stove at Ismael's tukul which is a mud hut with a thatched roof which 99% of the people in Lui live in. So after a 2 mile walk we were at Ismael's home.

The stove is vented and is inside of their tukul and vented to the outside. Crude by are standards but a huge leap for them since it's wood burning, vented and does not use their form of charcoal. The wood is also cheaper than charcoal.

What was most striking about being in the rural areas was the level of poverty. Walking through the market about 85% of the people will have sandals of some type on. Just the opposite is true in the rural areas. The children if they had clothing on it was torn, old and dirty. Most compounds will include the mothers, fathers, and grandmothers.

Sitting here I'm trying to put in words but until you walk it, smell it, touch it, it's hard to explain. Walking pass a family who's living in a mud hut and only owns one pot, one plate and a two cups for six people, they take turns eating. Walking pass a women who's taking a bath behind her hut which also happens to be be next to the path we were on. Seeing several children chewing on 2' piece of rope that's is their pacifier, and only toy. Seeing 5 year old girls carrying their 6 month old sister. I could go on but it's like trying to explain the Ocean to someone who has never seen it. You can talk or write about it for hours but until that person stands in it they won't truly understand it.

But for all of the sadness I saw groups of children who were happy, playing and having fun. Parents who were smiling and eager to invite us into their home. Richness can be measured in many ways and as I left each home the Bishop took us to, I felt that in many ways we will never know the riches they enjoy.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

"How's it going? You REALLY want to know how it's going?" -- A sermon for Advent I

A sermon preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, December 2, 2012

Jesus said, “There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among the nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

Let me ask you a question.

How’s it going?

Seriously, I’m asking you … how’s it going?

OK, so how many of you when you answered that question said some version of good, great or fine.

Yeah, that’s what I heard, too.

Now if you were to ask me the same question … and some of you have asked me the same question today, I’m going to give you the same answer. How’s it going, Mike? GREAT.OUTSTANDING. Good.

Except, do you know what we did just there?

We just lied. Well, maybe not lied. Lied is probably too strong. But we certainly weren’t completely honest with each other and maybe even with ourselves. If we were to be completely honest, our answer to that question would be way more than one or two words.

Because, really, “how it is going” and “how we are doing” is never simple.

Yes, there are pieces of our life that are good, great, fine … even outstanding. But there are also pieces … big pieces … pieces of our individual lives, of our family life, of our work or school life, of our civic life, of our national life that are nowhere close to outstanding, great or even good. There are pieces of our life that are painful, confusing, agonizing, terrifying and depressing. There are pieces of our lives that just plain suck.

And yet every time we get asked that question. How’s it going? We say.

Good. Great. Or even at worst “OK”

Now, I know what you’re thinking right now, and you are absolutely right. If someone were to ask me “how’s it going?” and I were to give a real, honest answer, the one thing I could guarantee is they would never ask me that question again … and they probably would never talk to me again!

Because “how’s it going?” or “how are you?” is a greeting, it’s a nicety. Most of the time when we ask it, we really don’t want to know how it’s going. What we want to do is express care about someone – and invite them to express care about us – on a level that essentially says “I care about you. You care about me. But, don’t worry, there’s no obligation to really get into it.”

That’s why the unspoken contract of etiquette we have with each other is that when someone asks us “how’s it going?” 99% of the time we’re going to say “good” or “fine” or “great.” And that’s just how we function as a society. It’s one of our rituals.

But there is a cost to this ritual as we perform it over and over and over again. The “how’s it going? … Great.” ritual.

First, it makes us believe that the answer really should be simple. That everyone else really is just fine. That everyone else’s lives are great. Outstanding. That when we have these pieces of our lives that aren’t great, that are hard and painful and depressing … that maybe we’re the exception rather than the rule. That maybe we’re different or defective somehow.

Second, it can make us stop believing that other people truly do care about how we’re doing. And so now in addition to feeling weirdly different that our lives aren’t just fine and great and outstanding, we feel even more isolated in that weirdness.

So more and more we inhabit a world where we’re encouraged to suffer in silence and isolation. Where we pretend that things are just great because it feels like they are for everyone else, and we don’t want to add to our worries somehow feeling like we’re a burden to others or feeling more different from others than we already feel.

And maybe the greatest irony is that there is no time during the year that we do this more than leading up to Christmas. Because we are told from every side that this is the hap-happiest time of the year, and if and when we don’t happen to feel that way, the temptation is to feel even stranger and bury it even deeper.

Now let me pause right now and say to you that I am not a member of the Advent police. I do not believe that the baby Jesus cries if we put up a tree or sing a carol or wish someone a Merry Christmas before December 25th. But I do believe that Advent is really important. That Christmas invites us to have Christ touch us and be with us and transform our lives in new ways, and that in Advent we spend some time getting ready for that.

And if we look at the four weeks of Advent and the Gospel readings we have for them, each week offers us a different step in that process of preparing. Each one of these steps is counter-cultural and jarring. Each one of those steps invites us to live together in Christian community in ways that are challenging and incredibly different than the ways we’re told to live out there.

And it starts today with what we hear from Jesus. It starts with Jesus saying:

“There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among the nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken.”

It starts with us answering the question “how’s it going?” not with “Good.” “Great.” “Outstanding.” or even “Fine.” But with a real answer. With naming the stuff that’s not great. That’s not outstanding or fine or even OK. With saying, “You want to know how it’s going? OK. Here is how it’s going. Distress among the nations. Fear and foreboding. The powers of the heavens themselves shaking.”

Now I’m not arguing that we should start spilling our guts to everyone who walks up to us and says “How’s it going?” But I am saying that in here, in this place, in this community, we get to be real with each other. In here, in this place, in this community, we get to tell the truth about where things are tough. We get to share the pieces of our lives that feel like they are falling apart or spinning out of control. In here, in this place, in this community, we get to NOT pretend that everything is OK. To acknowledge that it’s not. To acknowledge that even though there are some pretty great things about our lives, that there is some pretty rotten stuff, too. And that we can be honest with each other and with God about it.

So that’s what we’re going to do today. In your service leaflet is a 3x5 card. There are ushers with pencils if you need them and I’ve got them, too. And I want you to just name, just write down one thing in your life that isn’t fine. That isn’t OK. One thing that is scary or hurts or depressing. One piece of your life that is you’re not mentioning when someone asks how it’s going and you say “Great.”

It can be anything. It can be something that’s really personal about you like “I can’t find a job” or “I need a place to live” or “I don’t know how to talk to my dad” or “I have cancer” or “I’m worried my partner doesn’t love me anymore.” to something that is more about the world around us like how deeply divided we are by race and class or how the rich seem to keep getting richer and the poor getting poorer. Whatever is real for you about life that isn’t OK. Put it down. I’m not asking you to sign your name. I am asking you to write it down and then we’re going to collect them … and I promise we won’t do any handwriting analysis to see who wrote what!

People wrote on the cards and then they were collected in the baskets.

OK, what are we going to do with all these? Well let’s look at what Jesus says. Jesus says

“Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

Here are some of the things we have named:

II hurt because my children pay very little attention to me and I have no one with whom to share these feelings -- except God.

I'm in debt!

I can't quit smoking

Concern for a family member struggling with substance abuse and close to losing custody of her children.

Dealing with the fallout from taking care of a dying loved one for several weeks.

My relationship with my father.

Now Jesus doesn’t tell us to wallow in this stuff. But Jesus also tells us not to be afraid of this stuff. Jesus invites us to name these things … to look them dead in the face, and then stand up and fearlessly raise our heads and believe that our redemption is coming near.

So that’s what we’re going to do. We are going to take all these things, all these pieces of our lives and our life that aren’t great and good or even OK. We’re going to look them square in the eye and not be afraid to name them. Not be afraid to say, yeah, all of this is part of our life, too. This is reality.

And then we’re going to take them and put them right here. (the baskets are taken to the altar and dumped out onto it) We’re going to put them right here on this table. As we begin Advent, this season where we remember that God loves us so much that God couldn’t bear to be separated from us, we’re going to offer all of this stuff right here on this table and do what we do when we put our lives on this table … say God, you want to know us, well this is part of us.

My son's health ...  God, this is how it’s going.

I'm becoming an old man and don't like it. Everything is starting to sag.... God, this is how it’s going.

Work products I owe are not done! Worry about it means they don't get done and I lose even more time with my family... God, this is how it’s going.

I worry that I am slipping into complete aloneness .. God, this is how it’s going.

When we lay these things on this table, we are standing up and lifting up our heads and saying, “God, this is how it’s going. This is what is real for us. And God, we are giving all of this to you for you to enter into it and transform it and create something new.”

What does that transformation look like? How will that new creation happen? Well, we’re not going to worry about that now. Come back next week, and we’ll hear a voice crying in the wilderness and we’ll tell the next step in the story.

But for now, for this week, for today we are just going to let ourselves be in this moment of holy, fearless honesty with God. Where we will literally lay all our cards on the table. Where we stand up and lift up our heads and say, “God, this is how it’s going.”

And in this moment of holy, fearless honesty together we will trust that we do not stand alone. Together we will trust that we stand with one another.

In this moment of holy, fearless honesty together we will trust that God really does want to know how it’s going.

And that God is listening.

And that God loves us.

And that God is right here.

AMEN.

Saturday, December 1, 2012

Gary Johnson's "Postcard from Sudan" -- Saturday, December 1, 2012

Here's the latest posting from CCC's Gary Johnson, on pilgrimage with a team from the DIocese of Missouri to Lui, Sudan. Please keep Gary and the rest of the mission team in your prayers and check back here and at http://luinetwork.diocesemo.org/

Woke up early (5:00am) again this morning and listened to Africa waking up. I have also learned that the Raptors also start very early. I counted three eagles this morning both looked like our Golden's but each had different wing configurations and body size. You can count three to five different birds of prey in 20 minutes. The larger eagles have a 5' wing span.

Today the Carpentry group only worked a half of a day but we have finished the first project. Material is hard to come by unless you drive to Juba which is 110 miles away but takes 6 hours due to the road conditions. Lots of potholes some caused by the rains and others are where the UN has cleared mines. Potholes can be 4' deep. We were starting to run low on lumber but was able to buy some in Lui. that will take us through next weeks projects.

Did my first laundry today which was interesting but easier than I expected. The women will do our shirts and pants but we do our undergarments. Getting use to having the goats and chickens running around like we would have dogs or cats except outdoors only. With the exception that the chicken or goat you see this morning will probably be dinner. With no refrigeration everything is prepared that day.

The weather here is wonderful highs in the nineties and lows in the eighties but a very dry heat most days, but when it's humid its really humid. We have had a great breeze all day very comfortable sitting in the shade. I'm here during their dry season, we have yet to have any rain.

Lots of UN vehicles moving past the compound headed to pick up more refugees near the Uganda border.