Rev. Betsy Aldrich Garland
December 6, 2009
Luke 1:68-79; 3:1-6

Make Ready

These two passages from Luke’s gospel this morning are about pregnancy and childbirth, fear and joy, blessing and prophecy. Two women carrying the gift of life; two babies destined for amazing lives; two appearances by the angel Gabriel.

Elizabeth, wife of the priest Zechariah, has conceived in her old age. Mary, her cousin, has conceived in a way we don’t understand. Even Mary herself asks, “How can this be?” In the play put on by Second Story Theater in Warren, “The Butterfingers Angel,” Mary responds “No way!” and “You’ve got to be kidding!” It’s surprising, given the low status of these Judean women – nobodies in that culture really – that Elizabeth and Mary have been written into history, that we know their names, that God is using them to bring salvation to God’s people.

Now, we know about bearing and birthing babies, whether we have been the one to carry them In our wombs, experiencing the changing miracle as our bodies prepare, feeling life stir and then grow strong within us – or the one who accompanies us, puts up with our growing awkwardness, and coaches us on this amazing journey.

How does one “make ready?” Elizabeth and Zachariah make ready for this baby the way we all do: They give thanks; they share the news with the relatives; they decide on a name; they dream what this baby will become; they care for this fragile creature once born; they raise him or her up as best they are able. We are all surprised by how our children turn out after all, aren’t we, what they make of their lives, what they become, what they accomplish – or don’t.

Today’s first lesson, in Luke’s first chapter, opens with a canticle known as the Benedictus: Zachariah’s blessing his infant son John, a name which means, “God’s gift” or “God is gracious.”
Two emotions, fear and anxiety, and joy and gratitude, compete for our attention in this text, and in his song, Zachariah hopes that “we might serve God without fear, in holiness and righteousness....” Zachariah announces John’s role in the redemption of Israel, that he will prepare the way for the Most High “to guide our feet in the way of peace.”

This business of peace is not just the absence of violence, but peace that passes all understanding,
peace that heals and makes whole, peace that allows the wolf to live with the lamb and the leopard with the kid, peace that allows a little child to lead the people and bring them back into full communion with God, peace that ensures there will be no more hurting or destruction on God’s holy mountain because the whole earth will be full of the knowledge of God (Isaiah 11:6-9).

We deeply desire peace in this season of Advent, do we not? We long for peace in this broken-hearted world of ours, when we are sending more troops to Afghanistan. We hope for peace in our homes and workplaces, when we struggle to find a new job and put food on the table. We pray for peace in this church as we live through transition when we are caught between the already and the not yet. Zachariah’s song that we “serve God without fear” is a good reminder for us church folks in a toxic, high-anxiety time like today.

Humor helps, of course: A story about British philosopher Geoff Midgley might be instructive.

By his own admission, Midgley tended to look on the gloomy side of life.
In the early 1980s, one day as he was having tea with his landlady, they were talking about the dismal stories in the newspaper that day – stories about the cold war and the potential of nuclear holocaust. Suddenly he blurted out, “The world is too horrible! If we had a button we could press that would finally blow the whole thing up, which one of us would be able to help pressing it?” “Oh I wouldn’t,” she said, “I’m terrified of electric things.” This, he reported, cheered him up considerably.1

In the second passage in Luke chapter 3, John, now grown, is preaching in the wilderness a baptism of repentance, a fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy “to prepare the way of the Lord.” Advent is a season of preparation: Last Sunday we trimmed the tree and hung the wreathes. The Sunday School is practicing a pageant for December 20th. I hear talk about cookies and caroling.

But into our Advent busy-ness enters John the Baptist who demands a different kind of preparation from us – a preparation of self-examination, a time to evaluate our lives, our values, our priorities – our readiness to welcome God into our lives. John’s challenge is to repent and to prepare. True repentance means, literally, to change one’s mind, to turn around, to reorient oneself.

So in the midst of trimming the tree, or mixing the cookies, or wrapping the gifts – STOP for a moment – or two. Take time to remember the reason for the season. Seek God’s forgiveness and blessing in your life. Advent should make us a little uncomfortable. It’s too soon to be merry. Our repentance, our turning around, will likely involve our looking at the structures and the systems and the people of the world around us in new and different ways.2

And remember that in Luke, the word of God comes neither to the Emperor nor to the governors, and not even to the high priests, but to an ordinary guy like John who lives out in the middle of nowhere, a scary and confusing place.

And remember, especially, that the Holy Spirit comes and inhabits Elizabeth long after her childbearing years, and the Child of God takes root in Mary’s womb. Two uneducated women: one too old and one too young. And they bear two baby boys, born into poverty, yet destined to fulfill a mission prophesied centuries earlier.3

We see that God works through the likes of us, just plain folks, ordinary people who birth our babies and raise our families and go to work every day and pay the bills and come to church and teach Sunday School and study hard and help our neighbors. Ordinary people like you and me, born to make ready, to make the crooked straight and the rough ways smooth, and to bring God’s salvation to all people.

So let us make ready. God is born in the world through ordinary people like you and me.

May it be so!

Amen.

1. Mary Midgley, The Owl of Minerva (London: Routledge, 2003) p. 202, as quoted in Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 1, page 36.
2. Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 1, page 49.
3. Ibid, page 49.