December 10, 2017
Luke 3:1-17
Teshuvah 2017: A Practice of Renewal and Repentance
1.
So this
Baptizer wanders the wilderness, up and down the banks of the Jordan River. And we don’t know how long he’s been out
there or why he set out in the first place or whether he talks to himself, all
the time. But we do know his family a
little bit: his parents, Elizabeth and Zechariah, how John was miraculously
conceived in their old age. When they’d
given up trying.
And we do
know that he’s grown up now. And we know that
John survives out there, in the wilderness, on a diet of locusts and wild
honey. We know that the Word of God
comes to him there, in hollowed out caves, on stony hillsides, alone and alert. Sometimes you’ve got to go to a strange and
deserted place to hear a wild and revolutionary word. Sometimes you’ve got to go to the edge.
And it must be,
it has to be a beautiful word. The Word
of God John hears out there. Because
soon he’s calling to any and all who will listen: “Wake up!” he cries. “Wake the heck up!” You hear all this in the text, right? This Word of God in the wilderness is urgent
and alive, it’s abrasive and raw, it’s seismic in the way of earthquakes. It will not be denied. “Wake the heck up!” he cries.
John hears the
voice of Isaiah, the voice of the great Hebrew prophet, calling God’s people
home from exile, from disappointment, from defeat. “Every valley shall be filled, and every
mountain and hill shall be made low...”
One of my teachers likes to say that he’s not a Baptizer, John, he’s a
bulldozer. “Every valley shall be
filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low...” John’s a bulldozer. John’s God is making a Way out of No
Way. Leveling the mountains, filling in
the valleys. So “all flesh shall see the
salvation of God.” John’s God is
Love. John’s God is Big. John’s God is universal and global and
radically, undeniably inclusive. “All
flesh shall see the salvation of God.”
And before
long, they’re coming to him at the river’s edge. From the Holy City, Jerusalem, and all over
Judea. All of them. Word’s getting around. John’s God is Big. “Wake up!” he cries. “God’s time is now! God’s time is now! Wake the heck up!”
It turns out
that the Church has long imagined Advent—much like Lent in the spring—as a
penitential season. And what we mean by
that is this: that Advent is a season for deep and deliberate truth-telling;
that it’s a season for sincere and courageous confession; and that it’s a
season for reflection and repentance. Advent requires a kind of soul-searching,
life-assessing spirit. Truth-telling. Confession.
Repentance. And all of THIS is
what makes space in our souls, and space in our homes, and space in our
churches. For rebirth. For Christmas. For Jesus.
And that’s
undoubtedly why John shows up here, on this Second Sunday in Advent, every
year. You prepare the way for Jesus by
examining your life, by choosing the truth, as strange and unsettling and
unnerving as the truth may be. And you
turn toward Jesus, toward the bitty baby God, by turning toward the Light in
every way that you can. Even, and
especially, when it’s hard. Even, and
especially, when it hurts. Prepare the Way of the Lord: in your heart, in your flesh, in your life.
And John gets
pretty specific. He gets down into the
weeds a bit, with the crowds that come from the city. And so these questions. When you have two coats, do you SHARE that
extra coat with the brother in the street?
When you have more than you need to eat, do you INVITE the hungry to
your table? And how about this one: Do you complain about your
life, about the conditions of your life, about all the ways the world’s done
you wrong? Or are you satisfied, are you
GRATEFUL for what you have, for who you are, for every breath you take? These are the kinds of questions John’s
asking out there. They’re the kinds of
questions that provoke truth-telling.
And confession. And
repentance. So you turn toward Jesus by
turning toward the Light. Prepare the Way of the Lord!
For many
years, I’ve asked myself how. How can we
turn the December routine, the Advent rush toward the Light? Is there some kind of practice, some kind of
alternative practice, to orient Christians around the penitential spirit of the
season? Can we really prepare our hearts
for the coming of Christ—through truth-telling, confession and repentance? Because that’s John’s message. I rather think that's Mary's message too. There’s really no doubt about it. What about you and me? What about soul-searching and
self-examination? Is there a way to prepare our hearts for Christmas?
And then,
years ago, I was introduced by Jewish friends to their compelling practice of
TESHUVAH. Teshuvah is that commitment to
repentance, to renewal, that Jews make every fall, during their own High Holy
Days, between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.
The rabbis say that the great ‘book of life’ is open from Rosh Hashanah
till the end of Yom Kippur. They say
that every year—during those ten days—the believer writes a new chapter and
sets in motion a new year of spiritual growth, transformation and
partnership. Then, as Yom Kippur ends,
the book is sealed again. And so it is
that there’s a sense of urgency to Jewish practice during these High Holy
Days. Choices matter. Spirits set their course. Teshuvah is that practice.
So I wonder
about TESHUVAH—as a way of urgent preparation, truth-telling and deep
reflection among us. Among progressive and
creative Christian folk. We need
something like this, I think. What if we
received these four weeks of Advent as an invitation to do a gentle accounting
of the past year and some prayerful reflection around the year to come? What if we were to labor—like Mary in her
cave—and bring forth new life, new priorities, new awareness in our
hearts? Maybe, maybe Christ’s
incarnation would take on new meaning and resonance in us. Maybe Christmas would be less of a
superficial romp and more of a transformative journey. Choices would matter. Spirits would set their course.
So I want to
invite you to use the guide you’ve received this morning as an aid, as a
companion in this Advent practice of TESHUVAH.
What’s out of whack, out of alignment in your life? What in your life (and in our world) needs to
be repaired, healed, forgiven?
I’m not talking about shame. Let
me be clear on that. Our Jewish friends
aren’t talking about shame, and I’m not either.
I’m talking about a practice of truth-telling, confession, liberation
and grace. What kind of Christmas might
we have if we devote these next two weeks to meaningful, specific acts of
renewal and reconciliation—in our own lives, in our own families, in public
life and congregational life? Rabbi Adin
Steinsaltz likes to say that “teshuvah existed in the world [even] before
creation…” which is to say that
“teshuvah is a universal, primordial phenomenon…it is embedded in the root
structure of the world…before we were created, we were given the possibility of
changing the course of our lives.”
Friends, that
is good news. That is glorious, holy,
God-given good news. Teshuvah is
embedded in the root structure of the world.
Grace suffuses all creation, all life, all relationships, all moments in
time. And you and I are gifted, over and
again, with the possibility of changing the course of our own lives. We are not stuck! The world is not stuck! God is always, always, always doing a new thing!
Check out our Teshuvah Guide for Advent here!
3.
I’m curious to
see whether a practice like this, like teshuvah, might shift our perspective on
Advent and Christmas; whether it might open our hearts to the radical joy of
Jesus’ birth, to the personal and social implications of that birth, in new and
surprising ways.
So if you end
up using this little guide, if you find it meaningful, or even if you find it
exasperating…if you’d like to talk about the process and help me think about
fine-tuning it for next year…I hope you’ll join me for breakfast on the 23rd. You’ll see that invitation at the bottom of
the last page of the guide. Let’s think
together about faith and Christmas.
Let’s conspire together, around new practices and ways to make December
relevant again. We can do this. God insists that we do this. And we can do it together.
The shining,
thrilling message of John’s preaching in the wilderness is this: God is ready to do a new thing. God is our partner in doing a new thing. Mountains can fall. Valleys can rise up. Because God is not finished with God’s
creative, disruptive, holy, loving work on this planet. The question, then, is this: What are you and
I going to do about that? What are you
and I going to do about that? Are we
in? Are we ready and willing to partner
with God? And what in the world does
that mean? Partnering with God? Giving birth to God’s dream in the
world? That’s the big question of
Advent. Are you ready, are you willing,
are you open? Because God needs you this
Christmas. God has always needed you.
So wake the heck up!
