Advent Lessons In Carols and Such

OK, I know: the service is called, "Advent Lessons and Carols", but bear with me on this, and enjoy the trippy ride of my thought process.
St. John's Episcopal Church does one thing extremely well: pomp and circumstance through music. Our choir is just that good, and when the music is good, it aids me in moving into a ritual headspace that allows the Word of God to richochet around and around, and can take my thinking to a new level.
And so, back to my argument with myself that this entry is called "Advent Lessons IN Carols and Such".
The processional and recessional anthems were two of the Advent standards: O Come, O Come Emmanuel and Lo, He Comes With Clouds Descending. I love both hymns, but I was reminded last night how O Come, O Come Emmanuel had made an early appearance a few years ago as my poor brain was stuck with the never-ending jukebox of Episcopal hymns. Last night, as we were singing and processing up the aisle, I became aware of why THAT hymn, of all the Advent ones, had been in the playlist:

O Come, O Come Emmanuel,
and ransom captive Israel
that mourns in lonely exile here
until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.

Israel, or the ones drifting after destruction of their Temple and scattering of their people and assimilating into other cultures and being dogged by opponents: feelings anyone who has ever felt scorned or set aside or put upon can say, "Oh, baby, I know that feeling!" Certainly, as a lesbian in Tallahassee, I had that "special" feeling of exile from the Episcopal Church that had been my spiritual grounding, and it was a very lonely exile and I did mourn. And so, as God commanded me to "Show up!", my understanding was that I, like Israel, am to be ransomed by the coming Emmanuel. Now, this old familiar tune becomes a song of freedom and liberation.

O Come, Desire of nations,
bind in one the hearts of all mankind;
bid thou our sad divisions cease,
and by thyself our King of Peace.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.

In this time of Advent, as we who profess to be Christian are awaiting the entry of God into our realm, we are again at each others throats over matters of mankind. If it's not our uneasiness and disturbance with the economy, it's the latest efforts to rob joy from this season of celebration by raising the spectre of possible ex-commuication from the Anglican Communion if our Church allows God to call LGBT people to the episcopate. This morning, I included the Collect for the Unity of the Church in my morning daily office. This evening, I offered a silent prayer for the Archbishop of Canterbury as a classmate read from one of Rowan Williams' essays on icons. Clearly, ++Rowan is not stupid. But his actions on Bishop Suffragan-elect Glasspool, and INactions on the Anti-Homosexuality legislation in Uganda, are making him increasingly irrelevant for many of us. I am deeply saddened that such divisions have arisen now. But then, there may be something for all of us who are in this struggle to consider as we sing these words, and come to the Lord's Table while bickering with each other in the world.

And so we recess out of the Church on another old familiar tune which concludes:

Yea, amen! let all adore thee,
high on thine eternal throne;
Savior, take the power and glory;
claim the kingdom for thine own:
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
Thou shalt reign, and thou alone.

Amen to that!