Rachel and I have had a long lesson in waiting this Advent, and yes, you already know where this story ends. I remember way back to 3 weeks ago, when we really debated whether or not to drive to Ottawa to visit Lorena and Hannah for the weekend. We were in that new grand-baby window already – just a week before the Nov 24 due date – yes, another November birthday in our family – the month all 3 of our kids were born. What would we do if got the call? Turn around? Stay but wish we had not come? Miss those first moments? We needn’t have worried. A week later, we casually brought a homemade soup lunch to Micah and Molly on the Saturday, a day after the due date – we have tried not to hound them, to give them their space. No pressures. They were in good space, a little anxious, but also very prepared with all the paraphernalia you need you need to welcome a child. Another week went by. The next Saturday, we called again to offer lunch. This time they declined. They were ‘checking things out’ at the hospital and told that things had progressed – it could happen at any time – they just need a free bed and the process could be helped along a bit. Just go home and wait for the phone call they were told. This waiting of course was hardest on them… but we felt it too from a distance. Last Sunday all the Advent hymns seemed to be about waiting, and there were even references to ‘Mothering Spirit’, ‘midwives of justice’, ‘birthing new systems’ (VT 420)… ‘come thou long expected’, ‘to deliver, born a child.’ (VT 218) and so on. Everything seemed to jump out at us. Surely by tonight. We were starting to get the questions from those we met – Baby Yet? Nothing last Sunday. Monday came and went. Tuesday too – although now we knew they had gone to the hospital for real early that morning… but our phones were silent all day. It took until Wednesday noon when they called with the exciting news that Briar had been born a few hours earlier that morning – a C-section after a long journey, Plan B – but a healthy baby girl. And yes, it is a December birthday! And suddenly, all that waiting seemed forgotten in the pure joy of welcoming a new life. I’m a Grandpa… and they are the wonderful loving parents, who will guide and shape and direct and love this baby into full humanity and promise. We are so excited for them! And there is nothing that beats holding a new born child in your arms the same day they are born!
One of the real gifts of a new human life, is that deep awareness of life’s beauty and fragility, and that we are not in control – of the timing, of the birth story that will emerge, of all the many life circumstance around them, of the world events happening right now and the kind of world they are born into, of who they will all become. We are forced to rely much more on trust, on faith, on the kindness of other people, on the support of family and friends and church, on the mystery and provisions of the God who calls each person beloved. You can’t help but step back and ponder when you see how utterly helpless and reliant this baby is on those who care for them. The other parts of life, all those careful plans we hold too tightly, fade pretty quickly into the background.
I think back to the birth of our own children – 3 seasons of waiting, and 3 joyful births. We didn’t know what we were doing – brining a new life into this world. If we are honest, we still don’t. We had our dreams and hopes. And we are so grateful for each of them and who they have become. But how we got from there to here is a mystery. There were no straight lines, no detailed plans followed, lots of bumps in the road and unexpected challenges and joys. Nothing was predictable. It went too slow and it went too fast. We still wait to see ‘what now?’
‘What now?’ is our Advent question for this Sunday. In many ways, this is a question that comes out of impatience, of having not learned how to wait. What now? we ask when a baby is born, and now we have to care for them.What now? we ask when we have finished one project and are compelled to jump to the next. What now? we ask when we finish a certain level of schooling, or a degree, or a job and need to know what is coming next. What now? we ask when we retire and have lost a major part of our identity and meaning making and what occupied our time. What now? we ask when a health crisis or a loss or a death of a loved one or a seemingly insurmountable challenge, changes how we live in the world and how we see ourselves. What now? we ask in desperation when our best-laid life plans have fallen apart and evaporated, and we really don’t know what’s next. So often we carry this inner myth, this notion, this fallacy, that life will follow a certain set and standard knowable plan, when in reality, life is lived most fully when we can let these go and live in trust and a posture of waiting. A new baby reminds us of that truth.
This Advent we prepare and wait for another baby, born anew and in our hearts each year. The Advent scripture that captured my imagination and heart this morning came from Isaiah 40, which we heard within the stockbroker dialogue, parts of which were then quoted by John the Baptist – prepare ye the way – the voice of one crying in the wilderness. These are words of a prophet given to a people whose whole life had been turned upside-down –through exile to Babylon, through much pain and sorrow, through all sorts of questions of What now? Isaiah 40 is the turning point in the book, sometimes called 2nd Isaiah, where the people are finally returning from Babylon to Jerusalem – with this huge question of what now? What does it mean to come out of the wilderness of displacement, pain, failure, broken plans, hopelessness? What now?
As we walk through theses verses, I see 4 messages from Isaiah to the people and to us.
- Be Kind to Yourself.
I would name the message from the first few verses, ‘Be Kind to Yourself.’ The first words Isaiah says is ‘Comfort, O comfort my people. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem and cry for her.’ There is such gentleness and love here. The People of Israel are reeling, feeling bad about themselves and their situation. It is so easy for us to beat ourselves up when life does not go according to plan, when you are on Plan B or C D, when all we can ask is what now? The message from God is one of tenderness and comfort. There is hope for the future, new life to come out of waiting. It may not look like what you expected, but God’s presence will be there with you. So be kind to yourself. Give yourself space and grace. Live within the discomfort, knowing that God’s comfort goes with you.
- Do Justice while you Wait.
It is then that a voice cries out: ‘Prepare ye the way of the Lord. Make straight a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up and every mountain made low. The uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.’ There is a transformation envisioned where the injustices of our world are addressed and upended. We hear similar words coming out of the mouth of Mary as she awaits a birth – scattering the proud and putting down the mighty… exalting the humble, filling the hungry with good things. Even as we wait, even as we don’t know what’s next, we are called to pay attention to justice, to live fairly and with active concern for the poor, the displaced, the war torn, those suffering from the inequalities of our world. When one considers ‘what now?’ the answer may lie with what will bring more justice in our world. As Martin Luther King said ‘The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.’
- Be Present to the Moment
Isaiah’s words move then in an interesting direction that puts this larger perspective on our lives – ‘All flesh is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.’ Our lives are temporary. They will come to an end. You might say that these words sound morbid. But I think it is the exact opposite. If life in the grand scheme is short, then live life to its fullest –be present to the moment you are in. You don’t always need to focus on What Now? The now is already here. There is beauty and joy and meaning in the moments and places you find yourself. God is not telling the flower not to bloom, but to bloom fully and with its wonderful beauty – knowing it is a part of the larger beauty and joy of God’s eternal word. Holding Briar in my arms brought me to the joy of sitting in the present moment.
- Tell Your Story from a High Mountain
Isaiah writes, ‘Get you up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good news; lift up your voice with strength, O Jerusalem, herald of good news. Lift it up, do not fear… Here is your God.’ This doesn’t really make sense. The people of Israel are at their lowest. They have been through hell. It feels like they have no internal resources left. They have returned to Jerusalem a broken people, so just leave us alone to heal and recover. But Isaiah is claiming God’s strength for them, and that they do have a choice about how to live, and how to then share the good news – God’s presence in their lives. This week I happened to catch part of a repeat radio interview (https://www.cbc.ca/listen/live-radio/1-59-tapestry/clip/15764545-tapestry25-life-advice-rabbi-harold-kushner) on CBC Tapestry where Mary Hynes interviewed the late Rabbi Harold Kushner, most famous for his book ‘When Bad Things Happen to Good People.’ I caught it mid sentence – but Kushner was reflecting on the choices we have in how live in a chaotic world. For him and his wife, it was the tragic death of a child. He marvels at where you somehow find the resources within yourself to go on. Bad things will happen. He said there is a choice when bad things happen of how to respond – do you only question why God did this to me, or do you allow yourself to be vulnerable to hurt, and to not cut yourself off from people, from the community that can carry you, from the God of compassion. He invites us to live bravely in an unreliable world. That is good news, and good news to share with others, even in the midst of What Now.
At the end of our passage, Isaiah returns to how he started, with words of gentleness and compassion. ‘God will feed your flock like a shepherd, and gather the lambs in his arms and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep.’ The whole passage is wrapped with gentleness. Whatever our What Now questions might be today and in our lives, God wraps us all with gentleness, comfort and compassion.
This afternoon, I will be joining roughly 230 voices to sing Handel’s beloved Messiah with Mennonite Mass Choir, former orchestra members of the K-W Symphony and wonderful soloists, including Bethany Horst. Isaiah 40 plays a prominent role in Part I, the telling of the Christmas story, parts of this text present in 5 different movements as either solo arias or full chorus. It is a singing of this wonderful message. It is this music and message that has been wrapping itself around my heart all Fall – ‘and the Glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.’ This is the answer to our waiting and to our question, What Now? And if I am honest, where I might get the most teary eyed this afternoon, is when we sing ‘for unto us a child a born.’ Thanks be to God. Amen.