Sunday, December 10, 2023

Peace, please

 


 

One of the things I am aware of serving at St. Barnabas is that we are the closest Episcopal Church to Moody Air Force Base; hence, when members of the Air Force look for an Episcopal Church, we're the ones they're most likely to find first.

With the war ragining in Gaza, one of our members was deployed in late October for an undetermined amount of time. The deployment left all of us a little nervous. And we were especially concerned for the kids. 

Thankfully...he made it back...and just in time to help us light the candle for Peace on the Advent Wreath. 


Texts: Is. 40:1-11; Mark 1:1-8

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Abandonment has got to be one of the loneliest and most fear-filled feelings in the world.

The ache of wondering if you’ve been forgotten…or worse…intentionally left behind to fend for yourself in an unfamiliar place.

Maybe some of us remember a time when we were little kids and we’d have gone shopping with mom.

Mom was on a mission to get what she needs.

But we’d become enthralled with the toys strategically placed at kid eye-level.

Mom…focused and intent on getting in and out of the store…would go about her business.

She needs to get these items.

She’s not there for trinkets and plastic and sparkly things.

So she moves on with finding the essentials….while we’d still be fixated on the bright shiny object.

Mom…her shopping…was of little interest or consequence.

Until we became aware that mom was no longer with us.  

Separated…and mom nowhere sight…we’d start to panic.

We’d look down this aisle…over here and over there. Nothing. Our brains would start to pester us with questions:

Where did she go? Why did she leave me? Where am I?

And then we’d hear a voice calling out our name.

The store manager on the loudspeaker would be summoning us to the front of the store to be reunited with mom…who…by the way…was just as panicked and probably fearing the worst circumstances…realizing she’d lost her focus on us.

That’s the sort of feeling of “abandonment” I’m talking about and on a small scale…caused by a momentary lapse in attention.

But imagine that same sense of abandonment on a bigger scale.

The despair that arises when we’re forced into a situation we’re in some place foreign…with no idea when or if we’ll ever get home.

That’s the wilderness…and it can feel a little like abandonment.

We have no sense of up or down…left or right.

There’s no compass to help guide our feet in the direction of the town.

It’s unknown territory.

That’s the situation of the people Isaiah is speaking to in our first reading.

The Israelites had be invaded by the Babylonian Empire. Their best minds and tradespeople had been captured and taken away to a foreign land.

Those left behind in the ruins were like a rudderless ship.

This was the wilderness…another time when the people of Israel mourned for losses…and the exiles wondered if they’d ever see their native land again.

Now… the prophet is announcing the good news that those who had been scattered can return home.

Persia and King Cyrus had defeated the Babylonians.

The Israelites who had been exiled can return!

All is well now…

” Comfort o comfort my poor beleaguered and suffering people.

You are saved. God is with you!”

We can hear in this passage an exchange of voices…the one announcing to prepare the way! Make a straight path in this wilderness!

There’s dialogue of exuberance:

 “Cry out!” says a voice.

“What should I cry?” asks the prophet.

The cry is to be a proclamation:

humans are mortal…and like flowers and grass they fade away…but God endures forever.

We can get a sense of this as a moment of such joyousness.

It’s like listening to the end of Martin Luther King’s ‘I Have a Dream’ speech, where he thundered out “Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty we’re free at last!”

This is the same declaration we’re hearing in the Gospel from that wild and hotheaded character John the Baptizer.

Like the prophet Isaiah…John knows that he is not the almighty.

His baptism is not like the one that is coming to the people.

He knows that the people are about to receive a baptism that will set them free once and for all.

Wait and see!

“You who are feeling hopeless...lost…abandoned…get ready! Freedom is coming!”

These messages of freedom…of merciful release…of return from that place of feeling lost and abandoned carry a particularly urgent tone in our world today.

During that brief period of the ceasefire in the Middle East…the world could sigh with some relief as groups of hostages…particularly young children…were freed from underground tunnels in Gaza.

At the same time…Israel freed several Palestinians…a number of them teenagers…who they had detained for minor and sometimes no offenses.

There were signs of celebration as families were reunited.

But sadly…the war rages on.

The fate of the remaining hostages is unknown.

Families of those who have been released…both those being held hostage by Hamas and some of the Palestinian prisoners…are revealing stories of mistreatment and abuse since this conflict began on October 7th.

All of this has spilled over into hostilities in this country.

Arab and Palestinian Americans as well as Jewish citizens are reporting an increase in harassment and abuse.

We’ve heard reports of people getting shot, some have been stabbed and beaten all because they wore the Palestinian scarf…the black and white checkered kufiyah…or the Jewish head covering…the kippah.

Thursday night was the beginning of Hanukkah…an eight-day celebration in which Jews remember another time when they were attacked and overcame adversity…even having enough oil to keep their candles lit.

Sadly…some have felt they can’t safely engage in this candle lighting practice because of the anger and backlash for the war in Gaza.

In fact…my state representative sent out a plea to non-Jews in her district to light a menorah as a way of showing solidarity with their neighbors and allow them to mark their holiday tradition without fear.

(Not a problem in my household since we are an interfaith couple).

It makes sense then that on this second Sunday of Advent…we’ve lit a candle for peace.

Because we could stand to have more peace… less war… less violence… occupying our every day lives in this world.

None of us here may be able to stop to the geopolitical conflicts of the world…in the Middle East…Europe or Africa.

The one thing we CAN do is to commit to asking for God’s guidance to lead us to be peace makers in our families and our communities.

We can take this time of Advent to consider the ways we engage with those around us that might influence others toward a more peaceful coexistence.

Like the ripples on water when you drop a stone into the middle of a pond…our actions and behaviors can affect others to model and change their behavior.

 The words we choose when we’re in conflict with someone can make a difference in resolving a dispute.

Taking a breath before responding in anger or frustration with our colleagues and loved ones…may save a relationship.

Such actions may seem small…but they do add up.

And in this time when people seem to feel free to say the most hateful things online…and in person…to one another…we have an opportunity and a covenant to keep building people up and not tearing them to shreds.

Isaiah was proclaiming a time of God’s salvation coming to a hurting and scattered people.

John was declaring God’s presence was not far from a disillusioned and depressed people.

Now it’s our turn to speak words of comfort to our friends and neighbors as we pray…

“Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.”

In the name of God…F/S/HS.

 

 

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