Advent 2B, December 6, 2020. The Rev. Pamela L. Werntz

O God of the prophets, may we have the wisdom, the strength, and the courage to seek always and everywhere after truth – come when it may and cost what it will.

Every year our branch of Christianity gives us a new year, advent, a new season for longing to hear and respond to lessons of prophetic wisdom and calls for repentance writ large. This morning our collect for the day gathers us as one to beg for grace to heed the prophets’ warnings and forsake our sins, our collective sins: the sins of our communities, corporations, governments, and churches. We beg for grace because we surely cannot forsake our sins without grace. If the good news is that God’s grace is abundantly available to us, all around us, completely accessible for the asking, then what? How do we drink from the deep well of God’s grace so that we heed the prophetic warnings and forsake our sins?

You know, I think the first step is admitting that we are powerless. What does forsaking look like? It is to abandon, ditch, reject, turn our backs on, renounce. What are our sins: missing the mark, broken relationship, alienation from the Holy One; and the things that cause alienation: transgression, violence, greed, envy, and resentment; you know the list. The essence of sin is separation from Love. If we ask the question, “What would Love do in response to this mess we’re in?” and we have no idea, that is because of sin. If we know and are not willing to allow Love to do its work, that is because of sin.

John Donne’s beautiful words come to mind. We usually sing them in Lent, and I’ve changed the pronouns to reflect our collective, our community, so they become words for Advent. “

Wilt thou forgive that sin where we begun, which was our sin, though it were done before? Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which we run, and do run still, though still we do deplore? When thou hast done, thou hast not done, for we have more. Wilt thou forgive that sin which we have won others to sin, and made our sin their door? Wilt thou forgive that sin which we did shun a year or two, but wallow’d in, a score? When thou hast done, thou hast not done, for we have more. We have a sin of fear, that when we have spun our last thread, we shall perish on the shore; but swear by thyself, that at our death thy Son shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore; And, having done that, thou hast done; we fear no more.

The reason we repent as organizations, institutions, nations, and churches – the reason we repent is to turn around toward Love, so that we might forsake fear and experience joy; we might forsake greed and experience generosity; we might forsake violence and experience peace; we might forsake indifference and experience compassion.

We have some bossy scripture lessons before us this morning, bold in their instructions for those of us who are the heirs of the prophetic tradition. In the lesson from Isaiah, we have a directive from God to a prophet to comfort God’s people. The context for the beginning of Isaiah, Chapter 40, is that more than a century and a half has passed since the end of Chapter 39. The people have lived through an extended time of dislocation and grief. God is announcing a new policy for those in leadership. This is a gospel, good news, a proclamation in Isaiah, and it’s easy to see why this text was so important to Jesus and his followers. The prophet is grammatically a woman, Wil Gafney points out. [1] She is instructed by God to both announce and facilitate access to well-being for all who have been “alienated and dislocated.” She must declare homecoming for the people of God and build a highway, a clear and easy road to travel, to get right with God; make the way easier to travel.

It never takes very long in a Bible-study discussion of this passage for someone in a group to say, “Hey wait a minute, why would God need people to build an accessible and direct route? If God is God, why can’t God arrive unassisted, through the circuitous mazes, roadblocks, and rubble of our sins? Why do we have to do all the work?” Maybe because we need to clear our obstacles so that we (and others) can see that God is right here. Maybe we have left too much of our own stuff in the way; maybe we have grown to love the obstacles to accessibility and we don’t even notice how they keeping others away; or worse, we have become self-righteous about our obstacles, maybe even proud of our ability to navigate. Such are the sins (for us) of white supremacy, misogyny, xenophobia, hetero- and cis-normativity, rapacious and extractive capitalism, and imperial Christianity. Walter Brueggemann describes the coming of the Holy One in this part of Isaiah as majestic and merciful, strong enough to emancipate and gentle enough to attend to the needs of the people. [2]

And then in Isaiah, “A voice says to us, ‘Cry out!'” And we say, “What shall we cry?” The people are frail and feeble compared with the ruin and destruction in the world. The people are small and weak compared with the degradation of society and unspeakable violence in countless places. We are too little; in other words, there is no use; what are we? To that I respond, yes, we are little, but what about the Emmanuel Movement, the  model for AA; or Café Emmanuel, national-model community-meal program for LGBT seniors; or the Religious Coalition for the Freedom to Marry, which secured the civil right of marriage for same sex couples in Massachusetts and became a model for the country; or BostonWarm, which expanded rather than closing in the face of the COVID-19 pandemic? These are all collective responses to structural sins that threaten to undo so many people. With brave (and foolish) actions, little Emmanuel Church has, for the last 160 years, been shouting out that God is present and that God is good, like a strong and caring shepherd, who will feed the flock, cradle the lambs, and gently lead the mother sheep. And we have more work to do; we always have more work to do.

Recently I heard an interview by Layla Saad with Rachel Cargle about how to be a good ancestor (a good anti-racist ancestor). Cargle said, “The work is not new. It’s just our turn to do it.” [3] Emmanuel Church, we are called to be good ancestors, not only good stewards of the work that has been done prior to our arrival, but good ancestors for those who will come after us. Our 21st-century work isn’t new, but it is our turn to do it.

I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but many, many people do not know that God is good, a it’s not just secularism that is to blame. The Church bears most of the responsibility. It is incumbent on us to preach repentance, and we often fall short. Now you might be thinking, “Uh-oh, I wouldn’t want to preach repentance; that’s what we hired you for, Pam!” I’m here to tell you that you employ me to remind you that it’s your call, too; it’s your call to invite, exhort, cajole, direct, and influence organizations and institutions to turn around and see that Love is good. Turn around toward the Holy One, toward Love; turn around and see how Love is, and behave accordingly; that is, repent.

As heirs of the prophets it is incumbent on us to prepare the way for salvation. Again, the salvation idea of our tradition is not a personal or individual idea; it refers to the saving grace of God, which will create “new heavens and a new earth, where righteousness is at home”. This lesson from 2 Peter addresses our impatience with God’s apparent delay in setting things right, in making new heavens and a new earth. It’s not slowness, the writer says, but God’s patience with us. The writer postulates that God is giving us thousands of years to come to repentance because of God’s desire that none perish: thousands of years (only a month of days in God’s time), and we apparently need all of them and more! Again, it is God’s extravagant goodness that we are encouraged to consider. We are exhorted to regard God’s patience as salvation and to use the extra time wisely, to identify with Jesus, to grow in the grace and knowledge of God.

Perhaps you remember the Hasidic tale of the man who travelled to meet with Reb Dov Baer to ask him how to love God when so many bad things happen and there is so much suffering in the world. The Rabbi said, “I cannot answer your question but go to meet Reb Zusya. Maybe he can help you.” The man travelled and when he arrived at the hovel where Reb Zusya stayed, he found him emaciated, dressed in rags, with sores covering his body. The traveler asked him, “How can I love God when there is so much suffering?” Reb Zusya looked up, smiled, and said, “I cannot answer your question. Nothing bad has ever happened to me.”

For me this is a story about how experiencing pain is not optional, but suffering is optional. Maybe the difference between pain and suffering has to do with drinking from the deep well of God’s grace. Turn around toward the Holy One; turn around and see Love. Respond accordingly; repent, oh you nations, you corporations, you Christian Church, and taste the goodness and grace of God! Learn how you can participate fully and invite others to do the same.

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