The Fourth Sunday of Advent - The Rev. Colette Hammesfahr
It’s the fourth week of Advent, and our readings have turned
towards Jesus’ birth. So much of our attention in our Christmas stories are drawn
to Mary and the baby she is carrying. The young, unmarried virgin, who was told
of her miraculous and upcoming pregnancy by an angel. A divine conception where
she would give birth to the Son of the Most High. The woman who traveled by
donkey from Nazareth to Bethlehem and gave birth to her son, Jesus, in a
manger. Mary is so often the focal point of our stories.
There was a woman who went through the same weekday routine
every day. Every morning, she got up and got ready for work. She got on the
same train. She got off at the same stop. She walked the same route to work.
One morning, the train was approaching her stop. For some
reason, she had a strange “feeling,” and she felt an urge that said, “Don’t get
off the train yet.” She didn’t hear a voice or have any reason to stay on the
train. It was just a “feeling” she had. Her inner self argued with this urge to
stay on the train. If she stayed on the train, she would be late for work. She
couldn’t be late for work; she had responsibilities to take care of. This urge
for her to stay on the train seemed absolutely ridiculous to her.
The train stopped at her usual stop. The woman got up and
approached the doors. As the doors of the train opened, she sat back down in
her seat. As the train began to move, the woman did not understand why she had
done what she did. This was not like her, to go outside of her usual routine.
The train stopped at the next stop, and the woman got off.
When she got off, a man was sitting on a bench. His head was in his hands, and
he was crying. People were passing by him, not stopping to ask if he needed
help. Again, the woman had a “feeling.” She felt the urge to talk to the man
and asked, “Are you okay?” The man was not okay. He began to tell his story. As
he told his story of pain and suffering, the woman sat and listened. When he
was finished with his story, she didn’t try to “fix” him. She didn’t try to
give him advice. She stood up and walked the man to a place where he could get
help. It was then that the man told her that had she not talked to him and
helped him, he was preparing to take his life.
After she left the man, she thought about her experience. She
didn’t see her act as something brave. She didn’t see her act as something
spiritual. Instead, she said that the “feeling” she had was much more than
that. It was about whether or not she was willing to be interrupted by the
“feeling.”
An angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said,
“Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child
conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to
name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins. When Joseph awoke
from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his
wife, but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he
named him Jesus.”
Joseph had a dream. He could have dismissed it as his
imagination. To follow the message he received would be risky. What would
become of his reputation? Following the message would change his life. I would
venture to guess that he woke up with more questions than answers. He wasn’t
given a lot of choices to make – just one. Joseph’s choice required the courage
to follow the angel’s instruction. Courage to follow an instruction that
changed the world.
As we go through our lives, we get nudges or gut feelings to
do something or act on something. Growing up, we often imagined that hearing
from God would be a dramatic voice from above, and that when we did, the voice would
be unmistakable. More often, the voice from God is much quieter. The voice from
God can come in the form of a “feeling”
or a pause. Maybe it’s like the woman on the train, and it’s a sense that we
should stay when we’d rather move on. Often, there is a risk involved in
listening to God. The risk is not that God might speak to us. The risk is that
God might ask something of us.
Theologian Lauren Winner writes this: “[We might] sit with
Joseph and be a bit more attentive to the vehicles—dreams or otherwise—with
which God is calling to us. Of course, that attention is risky: if we listen
for God, we might actually hear from God. Who among us is as willing as Joseph
to receive a word that fundamentally alters the course of our life?”[1]
That’s an interesting question. Who among us is as willing
as Joseph to receive a word that fundamentally alters the course of our life? What
is the risk of God asking something of us?
When God asks something of us, it may disrupt our lives. We
lose control of our plan. When we listen to what God is asking of us, we can
lose approval from our friends and family. When we listen to what God is asking
of us, there is no turning back to who we used to be. To listen means that we
admit that we may need help and guidance. There is a risk and vulnerability in
that. Amid the disruption, loss of control, vulnerability, and risk, there
comes great reward in several ways.
We are rewarded by participating in what God is already
doing. Joseph doesn’t receive a special blessing for obeying God. Joseph’s
reward is that he is placed directly in God’s work. By abiding, we get to take
part. When we listen to what God asks of us, we are also rewarded with a deeper
trust in God. When we listen to the “feelings,” and we act on the “nudges” we
feel, we become someone we could not become otherwise. We become capable of
greater love, and we live a life without fear. We live a life entrusted to God.
Listening is risky, but it’s always life-giving. In our
baptism, we were marked as God’s children, belonging to God. As God’s children,
we are one community, called into a relationship with one another. What we are
asked to receive or to do is always held within God’s care. And when we abide —
even imperfectly — we discover that grace has already gone ahead of us. God is
present before we decide, before we understand, and before we act. May we be
willing to hear, and may we never doubt that God’s love will carry us through
whatever comes. Amen.
[1] Haverkamp,
Heidi. Everyday Connections: Reflections and Practices for Year A (Connections:
A Lectionary Commentary for Preaching and Worship) (p. 29). Presbyterian
Publishing. Kindle Edition.
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