Address: “What Are You Waiting For?”©
The Rev.
This is the time of year when people
look to the east, searching the night sky for a waiting star. In the Christian calendar it is the first
Sunday in Advent – a time of expectant waiting and preparing for the coming of
the messiah. Some of you are familiar
with the advent tradition of lighting a special candle each week during Advent
– the first stands for hope, the next peace, the third love, and the final one
joy.
While Advent is generally a time of
optimistic anticipation, as we all know it can also be a tricky time of year
for those dealing with grief, financial stress, depression or conflict. The holidays seem to bring out all of the
extremes of our emotions – joy, annoyance, playfulness, arrogance, sorrow,
happiness… It is a busy time for many of us, and there is always a lot to be
done, and we sometimes forget to just slow down to the natural pace of the
winter season.
There once was a monastery that had
fallen on hard times, and it was difficult for the monks to feel that sense of
hope as they lit their first advent candle one cold and wintry Sunday. In years past, this had been a festival
occasion for them, with townspeople coming in to share the annual hanging of
the greens, and special cakes and hot mulled cider to follow. But the monks had aged, and had begun to
grumble with one another. The younger
novices, sensing the tension, tended to leave in dissatisfaction. The remaining few blamed each other for their
difficulties. The cook stopped making
his special cakes, and the townspeople stayed away. It looked like the place might be headed for ruin.
Then, one day early in December, a
traveling rabbi stopped at the monastery and asked if he could have a night’s
rest. A rabbi? Here at the monastery? This had never happened before. But it was a Benedictine monastery, and St. Benedict’s
biggest theme was hospitality, so the abbot found himself saying, “Of course
you can stay. Stay as long as you like.”
The cook thought long and hard about
supper that night, and decided to make a special vegetable barley soup that his
mother had made when he was a child at this time of year. He baked some yeasted rolls, and even got out
his old cake pans for dessert. The rabbi
turned out to be a wonderful story teller, and the monks enjoyed their supper
more than they had in a long, long time.
For a night, the place was transformed, and hope indeed took a hold of
the abbot’s heart again.
The next day, before the rabbi left,
the abbot pulled him aside and confided in him about the p
“Here? One of us?
But which one?” asked the abbot eagerly.
“Oh, that I cannot say.” answered the rabbi. “Share this with your brothers, and in time
all will be revealed to you.”
So, as the abbot lit the second
Advent candle the next Sunday – the candle that invited the presence of peace
among them – he shared the strange words of the rabbi. The monks were amazed to hear that one of
them might be the messiah. But which one? Brother
Paul couldn’t concentrate on his prayers, wondering if it might be Brother John
who so irritated him. Brother John
wondered if it could be Brother Paul. Or
perhaps Brother Henry, or Brother Robert?
Surely not Brother Robert who always sang off key. But then again, it might be.
The week wore on and none of the men
could think of anything else but who might be the messiah. The cook was now pulling out all the stops,
thinking he might be feeding the messiah.
Brother Larry took great care with polishing the wood in the chapel,
thinking that the messiah might sit on one of the pews. The local grocer, making all kinds of
deliveries up there, spread the news that some kind of Christmas miracle was
going on up at the old monastery.
By the time the third Advent candle
was lit for love, love had indeed arrived.
For by now it had occurred to each monk that he himself might be the
messiah. How would a messiah
behave? A messiah would listen with an
open heart for his brothers. A messiah
would always have a kind word, a healing touch, a gentle approach. By the fourth Sunday in Advent, when the
candle for joy was lit, the faces of the brothers and those of the many
townspeople present simply beamed with elation.
The rabbi was never seen again at the monastery, but he was also never
forgotten.
For
it was his visit that marked the turning point in the life of that ancient
institution, when the brothers went from fighting amongst themselves to giving
of themselves to each other and to their community. If you visit that monastery today, you will
see a sign saying “Sojourners of all faiths welcome. For you may be the messiah.”[1]
On this first Sunday in Advent, 2006,
what are you waiting for in this season of your life? What disappointments are you ready to set
aside so that hope might find a place in your heart again? What within you is ready to be born, that
waits in the pre-dawn hours of your soul?
As our opening reading this morning suggested, we are often caught in
between stages of life, dancing at the edge of thresholds. We aren’t the plumb apple-cheeked baby for long, but we can’t rush into the silvery-thin, hollow-eyed translucent
time of death either.
So often, it seems, we are like a
chrysalis waiting to become the butterfly.
Crack open the shell too soon and the wings are ill-formed and unable to
lift toward the sky and freedom. There
are some things that simply can’t be hurried along to fruition. Winter is a time for waiting, for preparing
for the emerging shoots of spring. It is
a time to slow down on the roads, to go to sleep early, to nestle into warm
places, to sip steaming cups of tea and cocoa.
It is lullaby time rather than hip hop wake ‘em up rooty tooty jazz
wailing rock n’ roll music time. It is
time for dusky merlots, and smoky cheeses, and barley with root vegetables in
soups and stews. It is a time for inward
thoughts, and TV’s turned off, and books of poems by the fireside.
And yet…winter is not just for lying
fallow. Below the surface new life is
waiting to spring forth. It is a time of
expectant waiting, of preparation. One
of you may be the messiah. Who could it
be? Could if be brother Jim? Or sister
Carolyn? Might it be one of the youth or
a second grader you’ve never even noticed at the edge of coffee hour
before? Could it be the person making
the coffee this morning, or one of the people standing behind the social
responsibilities table? What if you are
the messiah? How would you act? What would you do? Could you wait to do it? If you are the One, what are you waiting for?
A few weeks back, I was invited to introduce
the offering at the ordination/installation of the new associate minister in
Summit, the Rev.
Before we began the procession,
Emilie had the clergy practice the hymn, since it has some tricky minor notes
in the middle. It took us a few tries,
but we caught on, and I began to warm up to the tune as I entered next to the
AME Zion minister from Summit who obviously knew this hymn well and was
beginning to temper the music with sweet harmonies. What became clear as the ordination
proceeded, was that we were being invited not only to join Emilie and the
Summit congregation in celebration of their new beginning in ministry, but we
were being challenged to hush, hush and listen for that call to ministry
ourselves – to go below the surface din of the everyday and really see for
ourselves what lights us up, and where we can then shed our light on a world
that is crying out for people to dream, to know, to care, and to act.
The
Rev. Clare Butterfield, who gave the sermon, put it this way:
…we need to hear the cries of the Earth, of the
poor, of the non-human, of the whole of creation. They wait, they have been
waiting -- they do not have the power to move us even by their truth -- but we
have the power to allow ourselves to be moved by them…They ask you to be awake.
They ask you to be disturbed… Have the courage to make visible everything that
is here and valuable.[2]
What are you waiting for? What is waiting to be born at the forming
edge of your being? Is this the time to
show your hand, or do you need to allow yourself a season of advent, of winter,
of expectant anticipation and preparation?
It is a paradox you see: while all good things come to those who wait,
it is also true a stitch in time saves nine – that if a job needs doing, it is
better done now before the hole in your sleeve, in your heart, in the fabric of
our world gets too big. The world can’t always
wait for our gifts while we line up our ducks, tend our nests, and get our
business in order. Who will feed the
hungry, bind up the broken, tear down the walls of bitterness and hatred, bring
peace to war torn lands? Who will step
forward to lead, to teach, to heal, to speak, to stand up with the
dispossessed? If we light candles of
hope, peace, love and joy, who will step forward, what will come to life from
the corners of your mind and heart and be expressed in the waiting world? If not now, then when; if not you, then who?
Here is the p
So, what are you waiting for? Are you carefully listening to your inner
wisdom, and patiently allowing the chrysalis of something new to form? Or are you waiting for “someday when,”
allowing the circumstances of your life to keep you from your true passions and
dreams? Are you waiting for a better
time, or a different time, or is this the time for you to finally blossom? Life really just doesn’t go on forever – it
comes to an end. When will you be ready
to risk revealing that you are the one?
On Friday I visited Skylands Manor. It was a grey day, and the trees were bare,
the gardens put to bed. After touring
the lovely Tudor mansion, I walked with my friends around to the back of the
house to see a winter blooming jasmine.
It was a little underwhelming, since it had no aroma and it looked more
or less like the forsythia that is so common here in New Jersey in the spring. And yet; there it was blooming in the
bleakness of the winter season – a bright swath of yellow and green against a muted
tapestry of grey and brown and
Only you can know if it is your time
to blossom, or your time to rest and regroup through the winter. But tonight, step outside of your warm and
well lit home, and look up to the starry sky.
Look to the east, and imagine for a moment that the candles of hope,
peace, love and joy have now been lit.
The way has been made ready, and you are the one.
[1] This is
an original take on a traditional tale of unknown origin. One version may be found in Doorways to
the Soul edited by Elisa Davy Permain.
[2] “Courage
Now” A sermon by the Rev. Clare Butterfield for the ordination of