Over the
Season of Advent we are praying with the Saints. This might seem like an odd
choice of focus as we draw towards the season of Christmas. It is the Saints whose
lives and writings illustrate the power and necessity of marking Advent. Their lives were often lived in times of persecution,
dispute, and war; where for them sanctuary was found in monastic communities. Their
lives illustrate a transformation, a change of lifestyle, where something is
given up in order to draw closer to God.
Through their prayer they sought a closer relationship and an embodied experience
of Christ. Their writings speak of the
dark night of the soul, the constant struggle with shadows and sin, and the
outpouring of a spirit discombobulated with an eagerness for intimate fusion
with Christ. They sought being whelmed by the splendour of God’s glory, filled
with light; a mercy and hope so fantastic that life then pails in comparison.
Is this how we
anticipate Christ’s coming?
I racked my
brain, trying to come up with someone who I know, who lives in such
anticipation of Christ; someone who covets an experience of overwhelming
intimacy with God. I have come up short. Of course, there have been those who
are older and are praying to die, to go to God, and have a sense of being with
God--- but, it seems like a feeling of contentment, relief, and comfort,
rather, than, anticipation of intimacy. This
is not to say that I am calling the Christian communities of which I have been
apart, faithless, unrighteous, or heartless.
However, I would describe us as timid, preoccupied, and self-reliant;
attributes that halt an embrace and excitement of Christ’s coming.
As we focus on
the Saints, I invite you to contemplate growing your anticipation of Christ’s
coming.
Consider why
it is that we walk with timidity; afraid to experience deep emotion, scared to
enter intimate relationship with God because at some level we know that this
would change everything. Consider the items and circumstances of life that keep
us preoccupied, absorbed in busy work; what can we set aside and let go of to
participate in a life that has meaning?
As to self-reliance, can we put our trust elsewhere, can we focus on
Christ’s coming as a complete obliteration of everything we think we can
achieve, earn, manipulate, or own?
Let us enter Advent seeking – longing - desiring
– for the brilliance of God to consume the darkness in our lives and in our
world; to come and be present – Incarnate - redeeming that which is broken.
One of our
focus Saints for this morning is St. John of Damascus. He anticipated Christ’s coming, yes, like us
at some point in the future, but, more adamantly that Christ had come, and that
Christ was coming into the very next moment, and the next moment after that.
John of
Damascus was an eighth century hymn-writer and defender of icons. His story is
quite a tale. His Christian father
worked as a treasurer in the court of the moslem khalif Abdul Malek (in what is
present day Syria). He was quite wealthy.
John succeeded his father and made a name and fortune for himself in the
same court. John of Damascus was
considered the last of the Church Fathers, and yes, you heard correctly, he and
his dad were Christians working in a moslem court. What is even more interesting,
is that John is known for his support and outspokenness in the Christian
dispute about the use of icons (icons are pictures of holy people including
Jesus that help focus prayer). Ironic,
is that it was his office in the khalif’s court, that allowed him to speak so
openly – ironic because moslem religion has a strict prohibition of the use of
icons.
At some point,
St. John felt called to give up his wealth and join an Eastern Orthodox
monastery where he took to writing and hymnary.
His transformation
from the royal court to monastic life illustrates the lengths to which intimacy
with Christ can alter the human idea of the trajectory of one’s life. Timid,
preoccupied, and self-reliant are not words to describe St. John of Damascus.
His writing
was absorbed in the radiance and splendour brought by Christ’s coming. The hymns he wrote like, Come Ye faithful Raise the Strain, were about Jesus’ resurrection,
and humanity’s being whelmed by this event. His hymns moved from darkness,
suffering, sin --- to the proclamation of light, grace, redemption.
He tried to
explain in words, the amazing Christ event, reflecting that because of the
Incarnation, because God chose to take the form of a human being– it was at
this point, when Jesus was born, that all forms of art, in fact all matter, was
redeemed to manifest the whole realm of God and the Divine splendor in all its glory.
In his words, “The whole earth is a living icon of the face of God.”
He wrote, “I
do not worship matter, I worship the God of matter, who became matter for my
sake and deigned to inhabit matter, who worked out my salvation through matter. I will not cease from honouring that matter
which works for my salvation. I venerate it, though not as God.”
What would
happen to our anticipation scale, if we saw matter, all matter, as an icon
focusing us on redemption? What would happen to our expectation that Christ’s
coming is in the very next moment of our lives, if we seek not darkness, but
splendour and wholeness rising from that darkness?
Perhaps the
thoughts of St. John of Damascus sit just beyond our grasp.
The other named
Saint in our service today is St. Nicholas of Myra. Little is known, of this
fourth century Saint. There are lots of legends, right to our own time as a
fore-runner to Santa Claus. St. Nicholas
was a Bishop of the church in what is now present-day Turkey. He spent time in prison,
persecuted for being a Christian. The
stories about him, demonstrate that he had a heart for the poor, was concerned
with righting injustice, and the protection of innocents. Timid, preoccupied, and self-reliant are not
attributes to describe St Nicholas.
A supposed
quote of Nicholas explains why he acted as he did, “The giver of every good and perfect
gift has called upon us to mimic God’s giving, by grace, through faith, and
this is not of ourselves."
“The giver of every good
and perfect gift has called upon us to mimic God’s giving, by grace, through
faith, and this is not of ourselves."
What would
happen to our anticipation level, if we were attune to the gift of abundance in
which we live? What would happen if we inherently embraced that we are called
to mimic God’s giving? What would happen
if we lived in the expectation that Christ’s coming is in the very next action
we take?
Perhaps the
actions of St. Nicholas of Myra sit just beyond our comfortable pew.
This first
Sunday in the church year has snuck up on us. It is already Dec. 2nd,
time is running short, time is running out, time is coming to an end. We have
been caught scurrying in the darkness; timid, preoccupied, and self-reliant.
The lives of St.
John of Damascus and St. Nicholas of Myra speak to our timidity,
preoccupations, and self-reliance, spurring us -pleading with us- praying for
us- to change our focus. Advent is reflecting on Christ’s coming; seen in the
very next moment, and in our very next action. Advent is anticipating with eagerness an
intimacy with Christ the likes of which we have never experienced. It is having
an insatiable desire to be whelmed by the splendour of God’s glory, filled with
light; a mercy and hope so fantastic that life then pails in comparison.
Each day, as
we wait to celebrate the coming Christ, may we take steps to see and feel
Christ’s presence; to mimic God’s giving, to let go of preoccupations,
self-reliance, and fears.
Christ be
present in the very next moment, and through our very next action.
To set our focus
and open our hearts to the anticipation of Christ’s coming – I would like to
lead you in the Advent prayer of St. Theresa of Avila. I invite you to place your hands on your
knees, palms up, and to close your eyes as the words of the prayer penetrate
your heart.
O
my God, Word of the Father, Word made flesh.
For the love of us, You assumed a mortal body
in order to suffer and be immolated for us.
I
wish to prepare for Your coming with the burning desires of the prophets
and
the just who in the Old Testament sighed after You, the one Saviour and
Redeemer…
O Lord, send Him whom You are going to send…
As
you have promised, come and deliver us!
I want to keep Advent in my soul,
that
is, a continual longing and waiting for this great Mystery wherein You,
O
Word, become flesh to show me the abyss of Your redeeming, sanctifying mercy.
O
sweetest Jesus, You come to me with Your infinite love and the abundance of
Your grace;
You
desire to engulf my soul in torrents of mercy and charity in order to draw it
to You.
Come,
O Lord, come!
I,
too, wish to run to You with love, but alas! my love is so limited, weak, and
imperfect!
Make
it strong and generous; enable me to overcome myself, so that I can give myself
entirely to You.
St.
Teresa of Avila (Way of Perfection)
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