Sacred pause

 

Luke 1:39-45

Mary Visits Elizabeth

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 and exclaimed 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 fulfilment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”

In the name of the Creator, the Redeemer and the Sustainer Amen

When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb.

What a lovely moment in our journey through advent

Two women sharing a pause.

The very young Mary, seeking out her elder relative Elizabeth.

Sharing the joy and anxiety of motherhood.

Two women, unexpectedly pregnant - Mary, because she was not yet married - and Elizabeth, because she thought she was beyond the age of bearing a child

Two women, pregnant with potential, sharing a moment, each recognising in the other the blessing of God

Knowing that they carried within them the world’s salvation, promised forever, knowing that they had a role in the fulfilment of that promise.

Two women, taking a moment to pause at the wonder of it all.

So let us pause for a moment.

Let’s pause.

To breathe in grace…

And breathe out fear…

Breathing in grace…

And breathing out fear…

If we learn anything from Mary and Elizabeth, it is that their joy in the Lord was embodied.

It wasn’t just in their head.

Or even just in their heart.

Their whole body cried out in joy.

Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit just as she was filled with the child in her womb - and she cried out:

“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 fulfilment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”

Mary’s song, that we read as our canticle this morning- is just as Spirit filled, just as full of passion- The Magnificat - a song of utter faith and trust in God to fulfil God’s promise - 

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.

Embodied faith.

Embodied grace.

Something that plays out in our everyday lives.

As we were reminded us last week - when crowds went out to hear John the Baptist in the wilderness, he didn’t ask them to stay there with him - he urged them to go back and live out faith where they were - by sharing what they had - if you have two coats, give one away, share your food, don’t cheat others…

The faith we profess has to be visible in our lives, has to be embodied, not just held in our minds or our hearts - but lived out.

Mary and Elizabeth embodied their complete trust in God.

As their sons grew, they would experience great sorrow, witness things that no mother should ever have to witness for their children, the kinds of things that countless mothers still endure today.

Yet each of them, knowing that sorrow awaited, rejoiced in the moment of being chosen by God to bear the herald of God and the Son of God.

We are told that Mary stayed with Elizabeth about 3 months.

And I can’t help wondering if that was the most peaceful time that both Mary and Elizabeth knew.

Because once their sons arrived, the world was changed forever.

Perhaps they knew that they had to make the most of the time before.

The time when they still had the power to protect and nurture their sons.

A blessed time for two women to care for one another, to rejoice, to soothe and comfort and to share strength with one another for the journey ahead.

And it seems like this might be a good time for us, in our race through Advent, to take some sacred pause.

To marvel at God’s blessing and God’s care for each of us.

To feel, not just in our hearts and minds, but with our whole being, the love and care of God for us - the grace that is ours, freely, extravagantly given in love by a God who chooses us.

It’s a good time to take a sacred pause and to notice - How are we embodying that grace?

Where do we feel it in our bodies?

Where does it ooze out into our everyday lives?

Let’s take a sacred pause.

Let us pause, from our preparations, from our anxiety, from our wondering what government announcements await us tomorrow.

Let’s pause.

To breathe in grace.

And breathe out fear.

Breathing in grace.

And breathing out fear.

As we pause here, with Elizabeth and Mary, may we gather strength, from one another and from God, to face whatever is next this Advent, knowing that the grace of God accompanies us as we go from here, filling us and equipping us for abundant life.

To the glory of God

Amen

Finding our wilderness

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.’ ”

In the Name of the Creator, the Redeemer and the Sustainer. Amen

In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius…Pontius Pilate was governor…Herod and Philip and Lysanias were rulers of the regions. Annas and Caiaphas were high priests…and John was in the wilderness - perhaps as far removed from all this power as it was possible to be.

John the Baptist was born into a priestly line - his future was pretty much mapped out - to serve in the temple.

Instead, he chose to follow God’s call to be a prophet.

Giving up the luxury and status that he might have known, John followed a much rockier, uncomfortable path as a prophet.

And so, miles from all the power and posturing, John was in the wilderness preaching repentance.

And, by all accounts, people flocked to hear him and to be baptised by him.

People, longing for something different, went to hear John in the wilderness - at the edge, far from all the political turmoil and oppression.

That made me think about us today.

In the midst of political sleaze, where global pandemic rules apply to some and not others, and where access to vaccination depends on where in the world you live… where those already struggling are plunged further into deprivation… In the midst of all this - where is our wilderness?

Where is that place to which we can retreat- and hear something different?

Where can we be engaged in a new way of being- that’s not about power or posturing?

Where is that place that we can own our vulnerability and confront our fear and find ourselves met? Perhaps even changed?

Wilderness places hold out the promise of transformation.

When we stop running.

And stop trying to talk or think our way out of our current predicament.

When we simply take a moment to acknowledge how hard things are.

How weary we are.

How worried we are.

Not because we don’t have hope. We do.

But that doesn’t mean we don’t still worry.

That doesn’t mean we don’t feel weary.

Almost two years of a life we would never have imagined takes it’s toll.

The wilderness, wherever that may be for you, that place of pause, is not an escape.

But it is an opportunity to sit with our vulnerability.

To acknowledge loss and longings.

To confront our fears.

And, in our wilderness, to be met by God.

To be met by God, who doesn’t condemn us for our weariness or our fear…

To be met by God, who does not dismiss our longings…

To be met by God, who does not even comfort us, telling us everything will be alright…

To be met by God, who sits with us in all the darkness, a constant companion.

To be met by God until we are ready to listen again to words of hope - like the words in today’s gospel - all flesh shall see the salvation of God 

That is the promise- that things will be turned on their head - the mighty shall be brought low, the humble will be lifted up - that all flesh shall see the salvation of God.

And in the meantime?

In the meantime, God comes to us in all our wilderness places.

God enters our lives here and now, simply to be with us.

Yet into our despair God pours hope

Into our sorrow, God pours joy.

Into our darkness, God pours light.

Our wilderness is transformed by good news.

Good news that is for all the world.

And so, however long it takes, however long we need God simply to sit with us.

In the end, like John, we are called to Prepare the way of the Lord.

We are called to sit with others - for as long as it takes.

And, when the time is right - to be light in the darkness, to be joy in sorrow, to be hope in fear and to be the good news that our world needs today more than ever.

Prepare the way of the Lord until all the world sees the salvation of God.

May we all become more familiar with the wilderness places this Advent.

For the glory of God.

Amen