WHAT TO DO WITH A BLESSING

A Sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Advent
December 23, 2007
Pastor Laura Gentry

Luke 1:47-55
My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”(NRSV)

Grace and Peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

This morning, we have come to the fourth Sunday in Advent. Our Advent wreath is all aglow, save the Christ candle in the middle for Christmas eve. It’s light symbolizes how the light of Christ is coming into our world, into our darkness.

We are no stranger to this world’s darkness, are we? The darkness is all around us. It is so obvious this time of year in the over commercialism of the season. I made the mistake of trying to do a wee bit of shopping yesterday and nearly got trompled by the zealous shoppers. I heard on the radio that the number one stress of the Christmas season is finances. Instead of focusing our hearts on the coming Christ child, we worry about how we’re going to pay off the credit card bills incured in the shopping madness.

The second biggest stress of the season, I heard, is grief. People think about the loved ones they have lost and how Christmas just isn’t the same without them. Many people become overwhelmed with loneliness this time of year.

And the carols that fill the air sing of peace on earth, goodwill to all. Yet we look around and say: where is it? Where is the peace? Another Christmas and the military personelle in Iraq and Afghanistan won’t be spending it with their families. The people of the Middle East—on both sides of the conflict—have to live in fear and the constant reality of war. According to WikiPedia—the online encyclopedia, which people from around the world update regularly—there are 30 ongoing wars in the world right now, the oldest of which began in 1948.

With all of these things on top of whatever burdens we’re already bearing, it doesn’t necessarily make us feel in the Christmas Spirit, does it? Quite a few people have mentioned that to me this year. We just can’t seem to get into the Christmas Spirit, they say. We talk of Christmas being a blessing to all of us—that we are blessed with the gift of the Christ child. But how do we rejoice in this gift when we don’t feel like rejoicing?

But what does blessing really mean? Most of us understand blessing, at least on the surface, to be God answering our prayers with what we asked for, and of course we prefer the answers to be given in a timely manner. That’s what we want blessing to be. We pray to God for something, and POOF! Somehow, some way, God provides it, just like we wanted. It’s almost like we want God to be like a big cosmic Santa Claus who rides by on his sleigh showering all the good little Christians with goodies. After all, we’d like to think we’re on God’s “nice” list and so why shouldn’t we be blessed like that?

Yet if we dig into our Gospel text for today, we get a different sense of what blessing is. Mary, the mother of our savior is—we dare not forget—an unmarried pregnant teenager. She didn’t ask God for this. She never prayed to God to get pregnant and bear the Messiah. God chose this for her. This predicament could have gotten her stoned to death. That was the law of her time, and if her fiancé, Joseph, had not believe her angel story and turned her in to the religious authorities, she would have died for what would have been perceived as her sin.

Maybe that’s why she got it out of town so quickly. She went to spend time with her relative Elizabeth. Her older, wiser family member, who also shared an unexpected pregnancy by the word of God. Maybe together they could come to figure out how in the world to deal with being a “blessed women.” Maybe Elizabeth could help her put this blessing into perspective and perhaps even help her appreciate it.

Now Elizabeth’s blessing wasn’t exactly what we’d expect a blessing to be, either. Yes, God had answered her prayers—finally! From the time she’d gotten married, she had been praying for a child. She even promised to give the child back to God for service in the Temple, if only God would grant her a child. But the years went by and no pregnancies ever happened. Elizabeth must have felt that God was not going to answer her prayers. She must have gotten used to God’s painful silence. And then suddenly, when she was way to old to get excited about a prenancy, she finds herself pregnant. Like Sarah, she found herself in a position of dealing with a blessing that was way too long overdue. So Elizabeth, like Mary, has to cope with an unplanned blessing.

The angel Gabriel said to Mary, “Do not be afraid; you will have joy and gladness; you have found favor with God. For nothing will be impossible for God.”

Stunned by the angelic visitation, stunned by the impossible message spoken by Gabriel; stunned by the absurdity of their predicaments, no doubt Mary and Elizabeth asked what it means to be “blessed.” How can something be a blessing when it raises more questions than it answers? How do you live with a blessing that creates more problems than it solves? Mary and Elizabeth, no doubt, felt contradictory emotions. Pregnancy alone does that to women. But the strangeness of their pregnancies surely flooded them with expectations and apprehension; happiness and depression; confidence and nagging insecurities; hopes and fears. Elizabeth was old enough and wise enough to know (as Luke writes in Ch. 12), those “to whom much is given, much is required.” Together, these two women grappled with the irony of being blessed by God: namely, that behind every blessing there is burden.

Both these women were to learn that the sons they were blessed with, were not their own. Both their sons gave up their lives, literally, in service to God. Both mothers suffered the unimaginable and unspeakable horror of having their sons murdered; Mary, we’re told, witnessed her son’s brutal execution. This is the burden on the other side of blessing.

The blessings these women received had two sides: joy and burden. They had been given much, and much was required of them. For them, the meaning of God’s blessing had much more depth than a “Santa Claus” idea of God tossing happy blessings at us. God’s activity in human lives always is surprising; turning up where we’d least expect it; where we’d never think to look for it. God turns the world upside down, making us think again about what’s important, what’s real, what’s valuable.

So here is the interesting thing: if God’s blessings are two-sided (both joy and burden, requiring much from those to whom they are given) then perhaps the opposite is also true: those burdens that come our way in life have the hidden and surprising potential of becoming blessing. If we struggle with our burdens and refuse to let go of them until we receive a blessing, perhaps our upside-down God will turn our burdens over, in God’s time, and bring good out of them.

I think this is what St. Paul was trying to get at when he wrote, to the Thessalonian church, “rejoice always; pray without ceasing; give thanks in all circumstances.” And to the Roman church: “All things work together for good for those who love God.” This reminds me of a poem by Jan L. Richardson from her book "Night Visions: Searching the Shadows of Advent and Christmas":

With each of our breakings you break,
and with each of our woundings your own wounds grow deeper.
Yet you hold the pieces together
till we learn to make the new connections,
and you guard each throbbing wound
till we have had enough of pain.
You remind us that it is our delight you seek, not our suffering.
And you tell us it is not the wounds that give us life,
but the tending of them in each other.
And you say it is not the breaking that makes us whole
but the mending of the pieces that brings us life anew.

As the season of Advent comes to a close, we prepare our hearts to receive the blessing of the Christ child. God has blessed us richly in this shocking birth of low estate, turning the world upside down. We must open our eyes and ears to look for God being borne in unexpected places. What is required of us is that we open our hearts and arms to receive the both the burden that comes along with our blessings as well as the blessing that comes along with burdens, laying them all, as Mary and Elizabeth did, in the hands of God.

Now, may the peace of God, which passes all understand, keep our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.

© 2007 Laura E. Gentry