You Will Show Me the Path of Life
Advent 2C
Baruch 5:1-9; Phil 1:3-11; Luke 3:1-6
12/6/2009
Jim Melnyk

As an aside, it's interesting to note something about our lesson from Luke's Gospel today. Many people point to the fact that a lot of Ancient Mediterranean cultures have birth narratives similar to the Gospel stories. But all of those narratives are set in some ancient, pre-historical setting – a time long forgotten or never known. The stories from out faith tradition are markedly different. Listen to what Luke tells us…. “In the fifteenth year of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee….” These are not ancient stories shrouded in a lost time. They are stories set in a known time, with real, known figures from the past. I think the difference is important – even if it is a total aside from this morning's sermon!        
        
Not quite four weeks ago on a Tuesday afternoon I sat by myself in this space. I had come to a possible turning point in my ministry, and I had to make a decision about my call to The Church of the Holy Family. Though I sat by myself, I didn't feel alone. I felt surrounded by your ongoing prayers for me over the course of the past six months. Much like Paul in today's passage from his letter to the Philippians, I have felt myself held in your hearts. Sitting by myself in our worship space I also felt surrounded by the host of saints who have gathered in this place and on these grounds for some forty-odd years. Sitting quietly I felt myself enfolded by the presence of the God whom I have chosen to serve as a priest in the church.
        
Sitting in this space I silently prayed a verse from Psalm 16 – a verse that has been a part of my ongoing prayers for discernment for much of the past year. Verse 11 of the psalm goes like this: “You will show me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy, and in your right hand are pleasures for evermore.”
        
My prayer, for the most part, wasn't an attempt to tell God what to do for me. It was a prayer of being open to the future expectantly rather than with a list of expectations. I had spent some time talking with Lorraine, with our Sr. Warden, Felicia, with my Spiritual Director, and with my big brother and kindred spirit, Bill. I simply prayed the first two portions of that verse as honestly as I could. Quietly. In time with my breath. “You will show me the path of life.” // “In your presence there is fullness of joy.” And I waited. I prayed them with an open heart, trusting God to speak a word of grace and promise to me in the midst of the silence. And I waited. It felt a bit like what I suppose Advent is supposed to feel like.
        
Suddenly I realized my prayer had changed and that I had begun praying, “You have shown me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy….” You have shown me the path of life! “That's strange,” I thought. And then I asked myself, “why in the world have you changed your prayer?”
        
I looked up at the space around me and at one banner in particular that was hanging by the cabinet in the corner – the cross with the rainbow, and I answered myself, “I will miss this place. I will miss being here with these wonderful folks. I will miss serving at the altar and carrying out my ministry with Lorraine.” I took several deep breaths and said a prayer of thanks for the ministry I've shared with all of you, and a prayer of thanks for the Advent God who comes upon us and within us in the midst of our waiting and hoping. And then, after letting Lorraine know what I had discerned, I called the Sr. Warden at Holy Family and was able to offer an enthusiastic and heart-felt “yes” to their call to come among them for a season as their Interim Rector.
        
I find it interesting that our Advent God doesn't always come to us in the most expected way, or by the easiest, most traveled path. I was absolutely sure – absolutely sure – even two weeks before my decision, that I did not want to take another spin at interim ministry – something I've enjoyed and done rather well in the past. I wanted more certainty this time around – something that would perhaps even take me to retirement age.
        
But as I looked back at the past year it felt as if God was asking me, “Jim, what else do you think I've been preparing you for this past year? What do you think all that time in Spiritual Direction, talking about living non-anxiously in the present was all about? Why do you think you turned down two previous invitations to attend CREDO in the past, only to accept an invitation for this past summer?” Ah, Advent God you are full of surprises aren't you? But there does seem to be some method to your madness! If we're willing to listen – if we're willing to wait and pay attention to what's going on around us – if we're willing to participate in the unfolding incarnation taking place in our lives and in the world around us – we can catch a glimpse of your coming among us!
        
And so we find ourselves gathered together in the midst of Advent, and in the midst of transitioning ministries, and we come face-to-face with of all people, John the Baptizer. Not only that, but with his calling us to repentance and preparation for the coming of God's Christ. And perhaps we wonder if that's what we've come to this place to hear in the midst of our transitioning time! Repentance. Preparation. One commentator I read pointed out that Advent is a season that is defined by “a vision of hope” (HKO, Synthesis, 12/06/2009). Therefore, “all the emphasis on repentance and preparation are no more than ornaments on the tree – they hang on the promise that one day, somehow, the final freedom, the final and lasting peace of God will be manifested without limit” (ibid).
        
“Advent belongs to the dissatisfied,” writes theologian King Oehmig. “Advent, deep down, means something only to the ill-at-ease. Only the unfulfilled – the ones disquieted by their exiled condition – yearn for a new destination, a new dispensation” (ibid).
        
Perhaps that's why Advent so captures the imagination of so many of us at St. Mark's each year – because we long for something new in this world. We might call it a sense of radical welcome for all people. We might call it a transformation of society. We at St. Mark's might call it a desire for the church of God and our society to be “indiscriminately inclusive” along the lines of Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus, whose openness to the whole human family, and proclamation of God's dream for humanity, cost him his life.
        
It would seem that Advent cannot mean much to the self-satisfied, or those who are comfortable with their station in life and blind to the wants and needs of their neighbor. Advent cannot have much meaning to those of us who have all we need and then some – whether it be money, status, employment, healthcare. Advent cannot mean much to us unless we can also recognize that the world is skewed in our favor, and that perhaps – just perhaps – we are called in some real sense to be our brothers' and our sisters' keeper. And perhaps then – when we come to realize that our own comfort is its own form of exile – exile from a deep and meaningful relationship with God – exile from the human family that lives on the edge and beyond – sometimes with hurts and needs we cannot begin to fathom – perhaps then Advent takes on some new and urgent meaning in our lives.
        
I have no crystal ball to see what the coming year will look like for any of us. I know I will miss you all dearly. But I also know God has all kinds of plans in store for each of us. My being gone from this place – from this loving, caring, faithful community – doesn't lessen in any way God's call to St. Mark's to make a difference in this world. You are the ministers of the church!
        
There is ministry to do – in our homes – in our work places – in this congregation and in the community and world around us. There are people who need to know about God's forgiving and healing love. There are people who have no voice in this community – people who need the comfortable and those of us with status and power to link arms with them and speak a word of justice on their behalf – to the Tiberius' and the Pilate's, to the Herod's and the Caiaphas' of this world.
        
Repentance and preparation may be ornaments on the tree of Advent – but the freedom and peace, the hope and dream of God to make this world new is the living tree itself. And you and I are all branches of that tree – all a part of the hope and promise of God.
        
I am truly thankful for the time I have sojourned among you as priest, pastor and friend. I am truly thankful for your companionship along the way. I am thankful that for nearly ten years Lorraine and I have had an opportunity to serve you together as a team – and that St. Mark's was a community willing to take the risk of calling a married team to ministry – a risk very few, if any, congregations in this region have been willing to take.
        
So, as our Bishop Michael is fond of saying: Keep the faith and keep on keeping on, St. Mark's! And may God continue to bless you richly in the days to come. Amen.

©2009 Jim Melnyk