Memories

Isaiah 11:1-10; Matthew 3:1-3

“Memories”

 

        In 1968 the career of Elvis Presley had pretty much left the building.  Hoping for a miracle a TV special was planned and Mac Davis was given a day to come up with a new song. Davis penned the words, “Memories, pressed against the pages of my mind, Memories, sweetened through the ages just like wine.” I have often wondered if Mac Davis had Advent in mind when he penned those lyrics. This is a time of the year when memories jump to the forefront of our minds. During the holidays, as families gather, we do more than eat.  Dishes are set to the side, chairs are pushed back and we tell stories.  None of the stories are new, few of the stories are accurate, but all of the stories form an important component of our holiday season.  Last month I spoke with Roger Elliott and asked if he would resurrect his telling of the Joseph story. This was more than just me trying to make my work load easier or an excuse to have someone else read my poetry. I remember three years ago when Roger became Joseph. Many of us were given a different and perhaps more human understanding of the Christmas story. Through the telling of a story our emotions got turned all the way up as memories were pressed against the pages of our mind.

        That is why it is so essential that the season of Advent be placed just before Christmas.  As much as we would rather drink in the sweet memories of yesterday, Advent pushes us toward another form of dreaming, where tomorrow’s possibilities are as vibrant as yesterday’s memories.  Advent reminds us that God was only getting started when the babe was born.  A new model for humanity was given; a different lamb was offered; a savior was lifted up in a way never imagined. Advent revives memories, cultivates imaginations and produces hope.

        John the Baptist had a very vivid memory of the past.  He remembered a time when his family would sit around the table and reminisce of a day when God created light out of darkness, life out of chaos, a God had the audacity to call it good.  They would tell stories of the time God split the waters of the Red Sea allowing folks to walk to freedom, a time when God leveled the mountains and lifted up the valley creating a path to Zion, a time when God promised one day God would do a new thing by creating a new heaven and a new earth.  John took those memories and forged them into a dream  declaring for everyone who could hear that the God who creates, the God who rescues, the God who saves, was about to enter their lives once more.

        John spoke to a people filled with memories but void of vision.  John said to them, “If God did all those things we remember, imagine what God will do next.”  Taking the very words spoken to a people in exile, John preached, “Prepare the way of the Lord.  Make the pathway straight. God is about to do a new thing.” 

        David Bartlett claims, “Nostalgia is memory filtered through disproportionate emotion.  Faith is memory filtered through appropriate gratitude and expectation.”

        When John the Baptist looked back on what God had done, he understood the possibility of what God was capable of doing.   Advent helps us see beyond a babe and recognize a man who would not be limited by conventional thought. The very idea of Jesus should excite us enough to ask, “What else is God in the process of doing?”

        This is where our children and grandchildren can help us in our understanding of Christmas. They are getting real serious about checking their Christmas wish list.  They have learned if you don’t ask you rarely receive.  Once they complete the list, they drop casual hints, hoping someone is listening. 

What casual hints are we dropping in God’s direction?  If we are silent, does it mean we doubt God is capable of doing something new?         The truth is a lot of folks inside and outside the church have given up on the church as an agent of transformation.  I read a disturbing article that said more and more of our young folks are moving away from churches because churches seem to be stuck in neutral, going no where fast.  We are existing on memories and our youth are looking for signs of new life.  They believe in God.  They yearn to live spiritual lives.  But the church seems happy only celebrating who they were.

        As a kid I used to make my spending money selling firewood.  My dad and I would go to places designated for new houses, pick out the straightest oak tree we could find, drop it to the ground, strip the tree and cut it into lengths to be split for fire wood.  All we left behind was a stump, a memory of what had been. 

        Our Isaiah passage is about a stump called Judah.  Once, under the reign of David, Judah had been a powerful kingdom.  But by the time of Isaiah there was little left but memories.   The amazing thing about this passage is where the people of Judah saw something dead and decaying, Isaiah witnessed a sprig, a small branch growing from that old stump.  It gave Isaiah hope.  Isaiah no longer wanted to hear about what had been.  He decided to hope in what could be. 

The church should be about the task of sending a powerful signal to anyone, young and old who might wonder if there is still life left in this old stump.  The realm of God shines through the witness, hopes, and dreams of a people who still believe God can convert us to a higher vision.   The challenge is not to be stuck in the traditions of the past but to be open to a new realm of Godly possibilities.

This Sunday we light the Candle of Peace. For those who like to reminisce this might bring recollections of a kinder, gentler time when we nestled in the arms of one who made us feel warm and safe. It becomes a beautiful dream limited to a specific moment and probably a very limited space. God wants us to expand both our vision and expectations. God proclaims to light the Candle of Peace is to dare to imagine life in a relationship we assumed impossible. Perhaps it is a soiled relationship with someone we once admired. Perhaps it is relationship which never had a chance because conventional wisdom has warned us against imagining such a friendship.

There is a new commercial on TV where an old Episcopal priest and an older Muslim Imam engage in a discussion about how kneeling is taking a toll on their knees. In a scene right out of O. Henry they send each other a gift for the holidays, and ironically it is the same set of knee pads. Cute commercial, until especially when I was told the actors were actually a priest and Imam who been friends for the last decade. This commercial reminds us of something far more important than the exchange of gifts. I can’t save the children of Aleppo if I am not willing to have a relationship with a stranger. I can’t change foreign policy if I am not willing to learn a stranger’s name. Lighting the Candle of Peace dares us to make new memories. Lighting the Candle of Peace entreats us to hear different stories. Lighting the Candle of Peace challenges us to not only sing God’s song justice and reconciliation but listen to the songs of others. We might be surprised to discover they are singing the same words with a different tune.

This Advent let’s not be satisfied to just revel in old memories. Let’s be about the task of creating new ones. That is what Advent is all about because that is what God is all about.

Amen.