Daily Advent Reflections

Daily Advent Reflection: December 14

Third Monday of Advent

Psalms 41, 52 · 44
Isa. 8:16-9:1 
2 Pet. 1:1-11 
Luke 22:39-53

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well. Revelations of Divine Love, Julian of Norwich

The gospel reading for today both comforts and disquiets me at the same time. Jesus, knowing he is being betrayed, starts to pray fervently and asks for the cup to be taken from him, sparing him from the death that is to come. What comforts me is the solidarity I feel with Christ in his humanity throughout these verses. As Christ knew betrayal, so have I. As Christ has prayed to stave off impending calamity, so have I. As Christ felt great sorrow and a troubled Spirit, I have as well (and as one who manages clinical depression, I really get this one!) Christ in his humanity has been there, done that, and knows the depth and intricacies of human emotion. My Savior has had the human experience and understands what that means for all of us. I find that comforting.

What I find disquieting is that even though Jesus prayed for deliverance, he did not receive it. Jesus was betrayed, beaten, spit upon, condemned, mocked, jeered, and crucified. Jesus went through all those things, which eventually led to the cross, and to his death. When I pray for deliverance, I want the deliverance to happen. I don’t want to think that the worst could happen to me or those that I love. I know through experience that I can pray that I may not enter trial, just as Jesus admonished the disciples to pray, and yet the trial still may come. The trial too often does come. I did not want my father’s cancer diagnosis; I prayed for him to be cured, and yet he died anyway. I do not want to be living in a global pandemic, I fear the uncontrolled spread, and yet it’s here. I can pray that my family be spared, but there is no guarantee that will happen. 

Everything that Jesus went through might have led to his death, but it also led to his resurrection and the salvation of the world. The best thing, the thing that some theologians call “the culmination of all human history,” Jesus’ resurrection, came out of the worst thing, his death on the cross. My father may have died from his cancer, but I know that he is now fully healed and I am excited that someday I will see him in that heavenly kingdom in which there is no sorrow, only joy. I do not know how my family will weather the pandemic, but I can tell you that I am much less likely to take any of them for granted. In order for there to be resurrection, there has to be a cross. There is always a cross before resurrection.

Advent means coming, and our salvation is possible because Christ was incarnated. Christ’s advent to Earth in human form made possible our salvation. The promise that we proclaim during the Eucharist, “Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again,” is the promise of Christ’s second coming, his next Advent, when He will come again will create a new Jerusalem. In that new city, all will be healed, all will be just, all will be made right.

The difficult parts of the human condition are not and never will be the end of the story. The end of the story is filled with joy, peace and, praise the Lord, there will be no suffering. Humanity will see an end to violence, and justice will flow down like a fountain. Our new home will be where there is neither sighing or weeping, but life everlasting.

As you continue along your Advent journey, please know whether you are filled with joy, or have trepidation and sorrow, you have the promise of salvation because Christ’s first coming in incarnation led to His resurrection. In the promise that Christ will return again, you have the assurance that the brokenness of the world will be healed in God’s own time. There is hope because there is promise. Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again. Look for his coming, pray for it, for he will make all things well.

The Rev. Mindy Valentine Davis
St. Peter’s Episcopal Church, Fort Atkinson

Daily Advent Reflection: December 13

Third Sunday of Advent

Psalms 63:1-8(9-11), 98 · 103
Isa. 13:6-13 
Heb. 12:18-29 
John 3:22-30

We move ever closer to the Glorious Impossible, the Incarnation, the interruption of time and space, by God, who enters our world as one of us, fully human, Jesus. In the gospel of John, John who is the baptizer, but who does not actually baptize Jesus, points the way. One of the things that John the gospel writer is interested in is John the baptizer’s witness, or testimony, as well as your testimony, your witness to this inconceivable incarnation, this glorious impossible. John the Baptist is the witness to Jesus, Messiah. John has been sent ahead of Jesus and testifies to Jesus. We hear John’s story so that we may believe, so that we may also be a witness to this relationship of God and God’s incarnation, God in the flesh. John testifies to the light that shines in the darkness, the light that is the creative activity of Jesus. This is the light that is new creation, new birth. The light that exposes and reveals God in our midst.

The glorious impossible is God, creator of all that is seen and unseen, in the flesh, dwelling in this relationship with us, you, me, all of creation. In John’s gospel, believing means relationship. John’s gospel was written so that you might believe, or come to believe, or continue to believe, that you say yes to the relationship that is offered, and that you witness to God among us, Jesus. Being the witness is not to be an uninvolved spectator watching from afar, but to be full in the relationship that is offered by the God who dwells in creation.

This is the joy of incarnation, and this is the fear of incarnation. To be known so completely, to dwell so thoroughly in Jesus, to have our hearts claimed by God, is to be changed, transformed, made new. As John the baptizer bore witness, John the gospel writer asks each of us to testify, to bear witness to God’s transforming love.

To love, as God first loved us, is our witness. To love, as God so loves the world that God breaks into time and space to accompany us on this journey of life and love, wholeness and healing, forgiveness and reconciliation, is our witness. To love, as Jesus on the cross loves us, is our witness.

Immediately in front of this story of John the Baptist in John’s gospel is the story about Nicodemus, who came to Jesus in the dark of night. The darkness points us to Nicodemus’s inability to hear Jesus witness of God’s incarnation. For God so loves the world, we hear, that God breaks into the darkness with the light who is Jesus. After this story of John the Baptist, is the Samaritan woman at the well, who goes into the city and says to the people, Come, see a man who told me the truth about myself, who knows me and yet loves me. At the end of John’s gospel, Mary Magdalene meets the Risen Christ and says, “I have seen the Lord.” This is the articulation of witness. How will you witness to this glorious impossible this Christmas? How will you witness to this inconceivable incarnation this Christmas? How will you witness to this Love this Christmas? In this Covidtide, this time of disconnection, unrest, mistrust, how will you witness to the Love that wins?

The Rev. Kathy Monson Lutes
Trinity Episcopal Church, Janesville

Daily Advent Reflection: December 12

Second Saturday of Advent

Psalms 30, 32 · 42, 43
Isa. 8:1-15
2 Thess. 3:6-18
Luke 22:31-38

Brothers and sisters, do not be weary in doing what is right. – 2 Thessalonians 3:13

As Paul brings his second Thessalonian letter to a close, he offers prayer that their hearts be directed to the love of God and the steadfastness of Christ. He also delivers a none-to-subtle exhortation that they remain active in doing their part. It serves as a reminder to Christians in all times and places that, even as we pray for God to direct our hearts, we have a vital and active role to play in that direction.

2020 is certainly fertile ground for striving such important balance. It has been a year of unexpected and unwelcome conditions to be sure. The profound challenges have compelled us to hold one another close in prayer, even while resisting weariness in doing what is right. With innumerable sufferings resulting from coronavirus, civil unrest, wildfires, hurricanes, and political hostility, pursuing what is right can be downright exhausting.

In late summer a Facebook post illustrated a person trying to remain strong, when really, she just wanted to throw up her hands and put up the Christmas tree. It is a fairly safe bet that all of us have endured moments like that during this crazy year. It can be mighty tempting to simply park on the couch in pajamas and watch reruns of old sitcoms until this whole thing blows over. Still, that is not who we really are.

We have had to reinvent ourselves multiple times amidst coronavirus restriction. It certainly doesn’t seem right that Christians are unable to gather for in-person worship. As wrong as it feels not to gather around the Lord’s table, it has been the right thing to do nonetheless. We have had to choose loving and protecting our neighbor from disease, over the norms of liturgical practice.

And so, for many months now we have lamented not being able to go to church at our beloved place of worship. Yet, in Paul’s exhortation to the faithful of Thessalonica one might hear an echo of resolve for the present age - that our inability to ‘go to church’ must not prevent us from ‘being church’. After all, we are the church.

My wife and I recently moved into a community that features a nature walk with two beautiful pollinator gardens. Not only are they brilliant with color from the tremendous variety of flowers, but they are buzzing throughout the season with worker bees. Seemingly void of distraction, the bees are absolutely determined to discharge their duty and vital importance to the ecosystem.

In so many ways that is us. The Episcopal Branch of the Jesus Movement, as Presiding Bishop Michael Curry often describes us, is compelled to be church differently than we are accustomed to. Rather than idly shrinking from the present challenges, we are called to be buzzing with determination to build community even as we await gathering – counterintuitive perhaps, but quite real.

It seems clear that the right thing to do is to remain resolute in doing what we can with what we have, and being grateful for it. A true sense of gratitude seems a paramount ingredient in being church differently in a challenging time such as this. It reminds me of a quote from Lutheran Pastor and Nazi Concentration Camp captive Dietrich Bonhoeffer: “The more thankfully we daily receive what is given to us, the more assuredly and consistently will community increase and grow from day to day as God pleases”

Let us resolve to be thankful that our community continues its increase through faithful support of one another. Even as we pray that our loving and gracious God sustain us and direct our hearts to the steadfastness of Christ, may we also be resolute in actively fulfilling that direction; lifting one another up and intentionally being the beloved faith community that we are.

“Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times in all ways. The Lord be with all of you.” 2 Thessalonians 3:16

The Rev. Geoff Ward
St. Christopher’s Episcopal Church, River Hills