Epiphany 5C Call of Peter, Luke 5:1-11, February 6, 2022, St. Mark's Episcopal Church, Little Rock

Epiphany 5C. Call of Peter

February 6, 2022

Luke 5:1-11 St. Mark’s

“Hello, yes, this is Mrs. Simon Peter. What! My husband has not been at the docks for two weeks! His boat is filled to the brim with dead, rotting fish! You are going to confiscate our boat! And the boat of his partners as well! Could you give me a little time to look into this? I have been taking care of my mother, who has a recurrent febrile illness, and we have just started building a new home in Capernaum.”

Do you ever wonder what is really going on between the lines of this familiar story about the call of the first disciples? There is often more that is not said than what is said. For centuries, students of the Hebrew scriptures have been trying to fill in the blanks, the conversational details. This is called midrash, and that is what we are doing this morning to Luke’s version of the story of “the catch of the day.”

Peter and his brother Andrew are in the family fishing business, in partnership with Zebedee and his sons, James and John. They have all been intrigued by the teachings of this new itinerant preacher. Jesus has even come to Peter’s home for dinner and miraculously healed his mother-in-law so that she can serve dinner. This particular morning, a huge crowd is following Jesus along the shores of the Sea of Galilee. Peter and his partners, however, are out trying to make a living and haven’t had the luxury of free time to spend with Jesus. They have been fishing all night with no results. As they pull into shore, they are running their bruised, tired hands along miles of worn wet netting to tighten knots and take in the slack of frayed cords. They are hungry, tired, and want to go home.

Jesus then spies his dinner partners and asks if he might use their boat for a pulpit for his impending sermon. Of course, Peter cannot refuse the one who has just healed a family member, especially in front of all these people; but this interruption is not what Peter has on his agenda or even his radar screen. Peter nods his head, but grumbles under his breathe while Jesus gets into his boat and begins to preach. Luke doesn’t tell us anything about Jesus’ sermon. Perhaps it is his first draft of the Sermon on the Mount or an early version of his series on the Lost Sheep, the Lost Coin, and the Lost Son. Poor Peter now has yet another job trying to keep the boat in place offshore while Jesus speaks. There is no indication that he listens to the sermon, for it probably takes every bit of his last energy to steady the boat off shore, work the live stream sound system, so that the crowd can now hear more clearly the voice of Jesus magnified from a cove in the lake. Finally, after about an hour, Jesus finishes. It is now midday. Jesus then shows us his flexibility, how he lives continuously in the present moment. He sees Peter’s fatigue and frustration. Jesus senses that Peter needs fish, not words. So he tells him to go out into deeper water and put down his cleaned nets and fish again.

“What in the world is he saying? We have tried that before, and it doesn’t work. Everyone in first-century Palestine knows you fish in deep water at night.” Peter is a professional fisherman who knows this lake like the back of his hand. Jesus is a carpenter turned teacher. Well, you know what Peter is tempted to say, but exhausted, Peter does as he is told, hoping that he will eventually get to go home. And then, to his amazement, he catches extreme abundance, more fish that he and his partners can bring in or their boats can hold. Finally, exhausted and overwhelmed, Peter falls to his knees in a sinking boat full of flipping fish and confesses to Jesus that he was so wrong. Peter is ready to turn his life and his will over to Jesus. And Jesus’ answer is even more astonishing: “Do not be afraid, from now on you will be catching people.” When they come to shore, Peter and his partners have changed their priorities about fishing, and leave their boats and follow Jesus.

All of us desperately want to know what it is like to be Peter, to be called by and hear the voice of God, or we would not be here in this place. Today, Luke clearly tells us what that call looks and sounds and smells like.

Where is Peter, and what is he doing when he is called? Peter is not doing anything particularly religious when he has his life-changing spiritual experience. He is not following Jesus, but is busy trying to make a living at his workplace. We may hear God call us in this church, but we are more likely to hear that voice in our everyday lives, at home, school, and work.

My experience also is that this call will come in an interruption from our routine. So pay very close attention to the interruptions that come when you are much too busy for them: people and places that are not scheduled on your desktop or Google Calendar.

God also comes to us where WE are. Luke tells us that Jesus begins his ministry in synagogues, but he doesn’t call his disciples by putting an ad in the Galilee Hebrew Democrat-Gazette saying, “Local teacher needs staff. No experience necessary.”/ Instead, Jesus makes personal appearances at the homes and workplaces of those he calls.

What do you think motivates Peter to go out into deeper water and try a new way of fishing? My experience is that we only make these life-changing decisions when we are like Peter, exhausted by how our life is going, when we are “sick and tired of being sick and tired.”/ We hit a bottom and have no more answers. One of our children gets into trouble, and we cannot fix it this time; our spouse is sick and is not getting better; we lose our job and have difficulty finding another one. Suddenly we are open to a memory from childhood, a conversation with a stranger or an old friend. We read a scripture passage again, or see an old movie like “Field of Dreams” or “A River Runs Through It,” or “Places in the Heart,” and it is as if we are hearing and seeing it for the first time. And God comes to us/ and transforms us/ in the ordinary, small kindnesses and acts of self-sacrifice from strangers, family members, friends,/ even simply from a child’s smile,/ and our nets are filled to overflowing in ordinary ways. //

Have you wondered why Peter’s confession of his humanity, his shortcomings, his inability to be in control is so essential to his call? Fishing is Peter’s talent. He must recognize the source of that talent and who gives him the direction to make the catch. Part of Peter’s greatness is this ability to surrender and see his own powerlessness. But that same power that causes him to fall on his knees also lifts him up. Jesus says to him, “Fine, now we are ready to get to work. If you hadn’t been able to see and confess your true self,/ you would be no good to anyone.”

What does Jesus mean by telling Peter he will now be catching people instead of fish? Is he saying Peter should now give up fishing? My experience is that God uses the talents we have perfected in our worldly vocations for his purposes. Peter’s skills in fishing will now be used for the kingdom. Nothing, nothing is ever wasted. Fishing may now be the best way Peter will meet others seeking the Christ, just as Jesus first met Peter at his workplace.

Many of you know better than I the skills you learn at fishing and hunting that can be used to further the kingdom: patience; working in community; putting out a net, a feeler, a fishing line, to find something utterly unknown beneath the surface of your life; becoming an artist, seeing God’s presence in nature, feeling God’s pleasure in the sun and wind on your face and the salt in your hair, being constantly surrounded by images in a natural world more significant than yourself.  This is where Peter finds God in his ordinary life, as we can as well.

One last thought to ponder. Isn’t it also interesting that none of the disciples Jesus chooses are from the religious community of his day? Instead, all of his followers are people called to a second career, people seeing their present occupations in a new light.

 So, this is the call. Do you hear it? God is calling each of us, most of us a bunch of rank amateurs, who don’t know a trout from a salmon or who can’t distinguish port from starboard./ We are not called because WE are able,/ but because God is able. God constantly gets into the boat with us,/ usually at odd and inconvenient times, /leading us and going with us to deeper waters where our nets will be filled to the brim.

Joanna joannaseibert.com   

12 step Eucharist, Epiphany, January 5, 2022, Christmas II, Matthew 2:1-12, St. Mark's Episcopal Church, Little Rock, Arkanas

Visit of the wise men 2022, 12 step Eucharist

January  5, 2022, Christmas II, Matthew 2:1-12, St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, Little Rock

We hear tonight, and we will again celebrate tomorrow night at 6:30, the visit of the wise men. Our tradition calls this Epiphany, the revelation, the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles, which is most of us, you and me. The Christ child, the God of my understanding, is indeed manifested to me almost sensuously at Epiphany. It first happened in the mid-fifties, when I attended my first Epiphany Feast of Lights service around the age of eleven in a small Virginia church with a boyfriend and his family. I still remember the unfamiliar liturgy, the candlelight, and the haunting mystic melodies. As we walked out of the small-town church on that bitter, cold January night, carrying our candles, we were surprised by the winter’s first snow. I knew that night that God spoke most clearly to me through this tradition.

 A decade later, I again encountered the beauty of the Feast of Lights at St. Mary’s Cathedral in Memphis, with their choral procession of the costumed wise men bearing their extraordinary gifts. Here in Little Rock at St. Mark’s, you can again experience that haunting call of Epiphany at their candlelight evening service at 6:30 tomorrow. To me, the choir and candlelight recessional out of the church into the dark night is always breathtaking. I watch the beautiful, often familiar faces of those walking out behind me. Their expressions seem to ask, “What will we encounter next in the night? Will this light be enough for me to see?”/

 This service empowers us to think about carrying our single small candle out into the world. As the candlelight service concludes, we realize that we can only see our path in the dark night because of the light from so many others. This is also our 12-step tradition. It is a we program. We stay sober because we stay connected to a community of others. Occasionally our light shines brightly in recovery. But, more often, we need the light of others for us to see the path ahead.//

Let’s listen to one more part of the journey of the wise men that speaks to our recovery. “They were warned in a dream… and left for their country by another road.” “They were warned in a dream… and left for their country by another road.”  This is also our story. We were warned in a dream, by another person, a judge, our family, consequences of our behavior, an intervention, whatever brought us to a moment of clarity to return home, to a new life by another road. Living the path of the 12 steps is the other road we have been called to travel. It is often called the road less traveled. What a privilege it is to trudge, to travel this road of happy destiny in community with each of you.

Joanna     joannaseibert.com

Advent 4C Luke 1:39-49, ((50-56), December 19, 2021, St. Mark's Episcopal Church, Little Rock

Advent 4C Luke 1:39-49, (50-56)

December 19, 2021, St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, Little Rock.

On this fourth Sunday in Advent, a few days before Christmas, the atmosphere in our church is more like a hospital maternity waiting room where all the relatives gather during these last hours before the birth of the family’s first baby. 

But in our excitement, we are ahead of our story. Back up. Teenage Mary from upstate Galilee, possibly thirteen years old, engaged to Joseph the carpenter, descended from King David, is visited by an angel, Gabriel. Mary’s eyes must have said “no,”/ for the angel’s first words are “Fear not.” Gabriel then delivers to Mary the first Christmas card, “Rejoice,/ the Lord is with you,/ you have found favor with God.” The angel then promptly tells Mary she will be the God-bearer, the Mother of God, Theotokos (THEE-oh-Toh-kus), our Greek friends will call her.

 The heavens and the stars all hold their breath for that one moment waiting for Mary’s answer. Mary’s response is not “well--ll, I suppose so” or “if you say so,” or “well I don’t like this, but you are the boss.” Instead, Mary says, “Here I am, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” (Luke 1:38). With that,/ Mary agrees to smuggle God into this world inside her own body, and the sun and the stars give a great SIGH of relief and begin to breathe again.  

But making a decision to say “yes” does not mean Mary is not frightened. She is so worried she asks her parents to let her leave town for a while and visit her relative Elizabeth, a priest’s wife, who lives south in the Judean hill country. Mary longs for a kindred spirit in this time of crisis, and Gabriel tells her that Elizabeth is also having a miraculous birth. If anyone can, Elizabeth will support her. Elizabeth is older than Mary, but never patted Mary on the head or used that tone of voice adults utilize when speaking down to children. Instead, Elizabeth has always treated Mary like a friend, a soul mate. Mary’s parents respond, “Yes, Mary, you have been looking a little peaked lately. Perhaps a visit to the country will do you good.”/ Mary leaves, and on the long, dangerous journey, probably in a caravan, she now has even more time to worry. Will Joseph stick around? Will her parents still love her? Will she be dragged into town and stoned? How will she, a pregnant teenager, take care of a baby, with no place to live, no way to get food, no one to help her?

When Mary arrives at Elizabeth’s, she is a mental wreck, but at the sight of her beloved cousin humming softly in her outdoor courtyard in the sunlight, she forgets all her fears. Elizabeth is six months pregnant and gorgeous. Not movie star gorgeous, but so full of life that it is hard to see anything but her joy, what Frederick Buechner calls “joy beyond the walls of the world.” Her grey hair is plaited and tied under a scarf. As Elizabeth takes Mary’s hands in hers, the girl cannot help but notice the dark spots on Elizabeth’s hands, the ones that come with age. The younger woman, hardly showing, then moves Elizabeth’s hand to her body and whispers, “ I am going to have a baby as well!” Luke then tells us that the baby in Elizabeth’s tummy leaps for joy. Actually, the Greek translation says the baby we know as John the Baptist “dances” for joy./ Elizabeth then takes in a deep breath as she is filled with the Holy Spirit and sings those beautiful words that Roman Catholic friends recite daily with their rosary, “Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb.” Except Elizabeth didn’t just say the Hail Mary, the gospel tells us she “exclaims it in a loud cry.” She shouts it!

After Elizabeth lets loose,/ it is Mary’s turn again. The younger generation now enlightens her mentor, launching into a prophecy that we sing or recite today, especially in Evening Prayer. /This exchange between Mary and Elizabeth models for us what happens when we recognize and affirm God in each other. Our feet start tapping. We want to make music: harp, guitar, drums, violins, organ, an entire symphony to accompany the outpouring of our joy and gratitude. Mary’s voice and heart sings the Magnificat, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on, all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me.”

What allows Elizabeth and Mary to sing in harmony is gratitude and praise for God being alive within each other. Each one carries that presence in her body, kicking and growing until no one looking at her can miss it. This always happens when we recognize God’s presence in each other.

 Mind you, the Magnificat is not a wimpy sentimental song. If you think Mary and Elizabeth are sweet and retiring, re-read Luke. “He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones.” /

For the next three months, Mary stays with Elizabeth and must have been present at John’s birth. Imagine the beautiful music at that home? /

In the first two chapters of Luke’s gospel, everyone sings.  Until John is born, there is only a women’s chorus. For that same angel who visited Mary silenced Zechariah, Elizabeth’s husband. But then, with John’s arrival, Zechariah pours out the powerful Benedictus our choir sang on Advent 2, “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them. He has raised up a mighty savior for us in the house of his servant David.”/

And so, our story on this fourth Sunday in Advent from Luke has become the first act of a musical where everyone has a singing part: Gabriel sings, Elizabeth and Mary sing, Zachariah sings. And in a few hours in the second and third acts, we will hear more angels, heavenly hosts, shepherds, and later old Simeon will even sing./

Barbara Brown Taylor tells us that this musical also has a dance part, and it is a divine dance where God gives each of us the opportunity to play a role. God leads,/ but it is up to us whether we will follow. It is a two-step, just like that relationship between Mary and Elizabeth when they see God in each other. God acts. Then it is our turn. God responds to us. Then it is our turn again. The only thing that is absolutely certain in this scenario is that our partner is always, always with us and supports us and wants us to have that same new life and a new spirit within us that is gifted to Mary.////

 The birth of Christ not only happened 2000 years ago. We are here because the living Christ is inside each of us, ready to be born. Mary’s trust in that fact is all she has. What she does not have is a 3-D fetal ultrasound, a husband, or a written sworn statement from the Holy Spirit saying, “The child is mine. Leave this young girl alone.” All she has is her unreasonable willingness to believe God has chosen her,/ and that is enough to make her burst into song. She does not wait to see how things will turn out later on. She trusts the Holy Spirit, and sings ahead of time,/// and all the angels sing with her.///

 If there is some restlessness going on inside you right now, and your stomach is rolling with your own version of morning sickness,// then you might try following Mary’s lead. Who knows? Maybe the Holy Spirit has come upon you. Perhaps that shadow hanging over you is the power of the Most High.

While it certainly would be appealing to have more details about what all this uneasiness inside of us will lead to, Mary’s experience and wisdom mentors for us that we do not need to possess the knowledge of what is in this “cloud of the unknowing.” Mary’s story reminds us how God has acted in the past. She models for us what happens when we say, “Yes,/ thank you, /I’d love to sing and dance.”

 Joanna Seibert

Barbara Brown Taylor, “Mary,” in Mixed  Blessings (Sue Hunter 1986),  pp. 21-24.

Barbara Brown Taylor, “Mothers of God,” in Gospel Medicine (Cowley 1995),  pp.150-153.

Barbara Brown Taylor, “Singing Ahead of Time,” in Home By Another Way (Cowley 1997), 15-19.  

Blue Christmas, Holiday Healing Service, St. Mark's Episcopal Church, Wednesday, December 15, 2021 5:30 pm Joanna Seibert

  Blue Christmas, Holiday Healing Service, St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, Wednesday, December 15, 2021, 5:30 pm

The holidays are often the most challenging time after the death of a loved one. Also, after other losses, such as losing a job, dealing with addiction, divorce, depression, or severe illness. We hope the healing service tonight will help you know that this congregation has some awareness of how difficult this season is./ My only brother died seven years ago, the day after Christmas. I still miss him every day, especially in December, since he was such a Christmas person. My world has changed since he died. ///

Living through these difficult times is a painful journey. Tonight, we will consider road maps for the journey to bring comfort. The first journey is with the paralyzed man carried by his friends on a pallet/ through the roof to Jesus./

We cannot depend on ourselves alone to know and feel the healing love of God. We need spiritual friends. That is why God constantly calls us to community. We are like this man brought to Jesus on a pallet by his friends and lifted through a roof to Jesus below/ because the man cannot move. A crowd blocks access to Jesus. When we become paralyzed with fear, loneliness, pain, we feel trapped, blocked out of joy, the sunshine of the Spirit. We need spiritual friends to carry us on that pallet through the roof to God. Initially, we are the person on the pallet.\Later, we may become the friend helping to bring another companion on that pallet to healing./

At St. Mark’s, we glimpse the depth of the pain on this journey as we help carry friends to healing in a yearly grief group, Walking the Mourner’s Path. We walk with people near their lowest point after the death of a child, a spouse, a parent, a brother, a sister, a partner. We see despair, especially after tragic deaths and the death of the young, but as we meet in community, we always experience hope and healing. By simply coming to the group, participants make a positive commitment to look for new birth, new life. As facilitators, we hold the group together to encourage, listen, give people who sometimes seem paralyzed a time to speak as they are able. We figuratively walk beside,/ sit along,/ and sometimes carry each other, as we hold together the group with love.

However, the real healers, the real companions carrying their friend on a pallet to healing, are the participants themselves. They know most recently about despair. All are at a different stage of grief, but they honor and embrace the stage of each other. They radically hold and support each other. They experienced a death maybe a year ago, maybe after 20 years. They know the pain better than anyone else. Each year I say less and less, for the wisdom comes from the group carrying each other. / Once again, we see healing in community, as we are called to be present,/ aware,/  listen/ and be open/ to the Christ Child present beside and within each other./ Those in recovery also know that this same healing through community is available in 12 step groups.

Recently, I had a Christmas lunch with a Mourner’s Path group who has met annually for almost ten years to support and love each other, especially during the holidays./ We hear stories of incarnation, new birth, surprises, seeing God’s presence in each other when all seemed lost on that road to Bethlehem, and new birth. We talk about little experiences of love that carry us on our journey when we can no longer walk alone. A card, a call, a visit, even an email or text remind us that we are no longer alone and are surrounded by love.  Once again, this new birth of the Christ Child, we yearn to meet at the manger/ in a stable of a  crowded inn/ takes place best, in community. /////

Another struggle on our journey through despair to new life speaks of its length and difficulty. We will hear about this journey on Christmas Eve, the road less traveled from Nazareth to Bethlehem to the manger, new birth, recovery, and new life. This is the journey Mary and Joseph travel from Nazareth to Bethlehem for Jesus’s birth. Our Christmas story concentrates on the manger scene, but that journey before the birth is unbelievably stressful, with rugged terrain, dangerous encounters at every turn. Like Mary and Joseph, those experiencing difficulty during the holidays travel that 100-mile perilous, often lonely desert journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem. The journey is not safe for Mary and Joseph to travel alone. Their only option is making the journey in community, in a caravan./ 

Both Archbishop Tutu and Richard Rohr1 also describe healing in these times of seemingly darkness when we have experienced the death of a loved one, depression,  a lost job, divorce, a family member who is not in recovery. “We need a promise, a hopeful direction, or it is very hard not to give up.” When we cannot see or feel or hear the path along the narrow road to new birth, “someone--- some loving person/ or simply God’s own embrace—will hold on to us because we sometimes cannot hold ourselves if we only allow it. When we experience this radical holding in love, this brings salvation,” the hope of new birth! This is why we are here tonight to acknowledge loss/ and hold each other in love on this journey./

Romans also reminds us that Christ is always here, reaching out to heal us. Nothing/ can separate us from God’s love. God never abandons us.

Henri Nouwen2 also writes that the Christ Child, is especially present in the dark times with those who are sick, disabled, hungry, grief-stricken, struggling with addiction. God is always with us on this journey. We are called to keep looking for tiny openings,/ small blessings,/ moments of clarity, surprising experiences of love we never expected, or from people we least expected, connecting us to God who so loves us. We are to keep allowing those God sends to walk part of this journey with us,/ when it is offered,/ most often at surprising moments.//

 Frederick Buechner3 knows about this difficult journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem before there is new birth./ Buechner is at the lowest point in his life. His daughter is possibly dying, he is helpless, and in some ways, he has become almost as sick as she is. One day Buechner receives a call from a friend living in Charlotte, North Carolina, nearly 800 miles away, saying he hears Buechner is having a difficult time and wants to come and visit. He is a minister acquaintance, not a longtime friend. Buechner replies he would love to see him, and they should arrange a time. His friend says, “Well,/ actually,/ I am presently at the local inn about 20 minutes from your hilltop home in Vermont.” Buechner’s friend comes and stays several days. They take long walks, drive around, eat together. Buechner does not remember any deep theological conversation, and they may not have even mentioned Christ,/ but they do experience/ the touch of the tiny hands of the Christ Child/ reaching out to both of them.  Buechner will always remember/ a friend who radically decides to come and walk that challenging  journey to Bethlehem for a few days with him,/ and they both are changed.//  This is the love of presence that brings on new birth that God calls us to share and offer to each other./

So tonight, I lighted a candle to honor my brother, Jim. My life has changed since his death. I have become closer to his three sons who live  in Virginia. I am sharing my love for my brother now with his children. I send texts and call and plan to visit them soon. I want them to know I am walking this journey to Bethlehem,/ to new birth with them.

I look out into your eyes and remember I learned how to take this journey from so many of you.

May God bless each of us as we walk to Bethlehem together.

 1Richard Rohr, Adapted from Richard Rohr, Great Themes of Paul: Life as Participation, disc 10 (Franciscan Media: 2002), CD.

2Henri Nouwen, You Are Beloved.

3Frederick Buechner in  The Clowns in the Belfry.

Joanna  joannaseibert.com

12 Step Eucharist, St. Mark's Episcopal Church, Little Rock, Arkansas, December 1, 5:30, Advent I

12 Step Eucharist

Advent 1 St. Mark’s December 1, 2021

Luke 21:25-31. Second Coming and Waiting   Joanna Seibert

Advent signifies the beginning of our church’s new year. We begin our new year celebration out of sync with the rest of the world by hearing about Jesus’ second coming. Indeed, there is almost always a small 50-word news item about predicting Jesus’ eminent return, sometimes using signs from holy scripture. Others predict Jesus’ return by what is happening in the world, “the roaring of the sea and waves, people fainting from fear, distress among nations,/ signs in the sun, the moon, and stars.”/ Indeed, we believe this second coming will happen sometime in the future, maybe sooner than later.

But those in recovery perhaps know better than any others about the Second Coming. We have already experienced it. It happens to us every day if we allow it. We undoubtedly had some experience of God as a child. It may have been the God of love or a God who was a hall monitor, watching for our every mistake. Something kept tugging at us like a dog nipping and barking at our heels. We would listen to this call at times, but ignored it when we became too busy or when things were not going our way. We found other forms of love and comfort and holiness, our work, alcohol, cigarettes, drugs, shopping, relationships, even family. The list goes on. Then all these experiences of self-love turned on us and became part of the problem, rather than the solution. We became hopeless.

By some miracle, in our desperate state, we heard the voice of God of love more clearly. Some might call it a moment of clarity. We learned we were loved despite all the harm we had caused. We discovered, no matter what we had done or thought that this God still loved us. God loved us as we are/ but loved us also enough to want us to change. We learned about staying connected to this God. We learned about forgiveness. We realized we were more than what we did or said. I keep remembering a very wealthy woman who had it all, who once sat beside me at a recovery meeting. She was called on, and she spoke. Then she immediately turned to me and asked, “Was that all right?” I still see the pain in her face. We all indeed share her story. We want to say the right thing. The God of love tells us to speak our truth, but then let it go. Honestly, this is the story of our whole life. Do the next right thing, and give the results to God. We strive to stay as connected to the God of love as possible, and turn our life, the results, all over to God.

In Advent, we are reminded to stay connected to the Christ Child who came into the world and the Christ Child already within us. This Christ Child keeps becoming more present in our lives if we only listen./

 Advent is a time of quiet, of listening, of waiting, of gratitude. There is no way adequately to give thanks for the presence of the Christ Child in our lives. Our veiled attempts to give thanks/ become genuine by remembering and sharing our story with others, especially members of our family who may be at risk. Advent is a time to remember that the Christ who comes and lives in our hearts is best heard in the silence of our lives. Like the Christ Child, who was first born so many years ago, the Christ Child in our hearts is the antithesis of our culture, which has become noisier and noisier this time of the year./ 

 So tonight, we come here one more time to this holy place, to experience silence, to give thanks for Christ’s presence in the world and within us. We remember the miraculous rebirth,/ the second coming that came, and continues to come into our lives.