Advent is Clay

Happy New Year!  It’s the first day of the new church year, and as we begin Advent we can’t help noticing that the mood of the church season is different from the mood of the commerce around us.  Which brings us to clay …

Clay

Isaiah 64:1-9; Psalm 80:1-7 

Christmas is glitter, evergreens, poinsettias, wrapping paper, candles, carols, candy canes, sugarplums, and greeting cards. Advent is clay.

That sounds pretty boring in comparison to the energy, excitement, and mania of Christmas. It sounds pretty plain compared to the adornments of Christmas. It sounds pretty ordinary compared to the extraordinary efforts that we make to be generous and loving every December. Advent is clay.

We may be comforted by the fact that clay is not boring, plain, or ordinary; it is actually a pretty amazing substance. It is made of minerals – rocks, really – that have been formed over long periods of time by the gradual chemical weathering of the rocks by low concentrations of acid. Those minerals have the special quality of being moldable when they are combined with water, and the even more special quality of being transformed by heat into ceramic materials like pottery.

And so Isaiah speaks of clay: “… we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.” [Isaiah 64:8] We are moldable, and we can be transformed.

That is our job during Advent. It may seem as though the job is to get ready for the celebration of Christmas – and there is nothing wrong with doing that, of course. But the job during Advent is not about presents or parties or decorations. The job is to become – or to become again – clay in the hands of the divine potter.

There is perhaps no other time during the year when the life of the church is so out of synch with the life of the culture around us. The Rev. Pat DeJong (pastor of First Congregational Church of Berkeley) puts it this way: “The coming of Advent jolts the church out of Ordinary Time with the invasive news that it’s time to think about fresh possibilities for deliverance and human wholeness.”

The prophet Isaiah put it this way to God: “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down ..” [Isaiah 64:1] and then, “When you did awesome deeds that we did not expect, you came down, the mountains quaked at your presence.” [Isaiah 64:3].

It is odd, then, that we have come to want Advent and Christmas to be the same every year – predictable, not unexpected. The church I attended in Seattle had a group of members who took responsibility for decorating the building for Christmas – and they always did it exactly the same way. Their idea of including new people in this process was not to ask their opinions, but to teach them precisely the way it was supposed to be done. Yes, it was very beautiful – but it was theologically very far from Advent.

I don’t mean to sound too harsh about this – it is easy to confuse hope with a longing for the past. Especially at Christmas there is a kind of nostalgia for days gone by – for relationships that have faded or loved ones who have been lost, for simpler celebrations and smaller bills afterwards, for a particular song or food or gift. We hope that it will be as wonderful this year as it has been in the past. And again, there is nothing wrong with that. It just isn’t about Advent.

Because Advent is about acknowledging that God is not especially nostalgic. On the contrary, God is always doing a new thing. When God answered the longing of the people of Israel for a savior and a new day, it was not with the king or the military power that they were expecting – it was with the light of a Child born in Bethlehem, whose parents were ordinary people, far from home.

It is also odd, I think, that we have come to expect Advent to be a time of uninterrupted delight. It is a time of anticipation, to be sure. But if we were to tell the truth, for many of us the time leading up to the winter holidays is a time of lamentation as well as a time of delight. Listen to the ancient poet who wrote Psalm 80: “Restore us, O God of hosts; let your face shine, that we may be saved.” [Psalm 80:7] There is sorrow, worry, and impatience in those words. These are words of lament.

So this morning, let me give you permission to lament during the coming weeks – to let yourself feel and express the whole variety of emotions and memories that holiday preparations can bring forth. Lament [according to Andy DeBraber in Seasons of the Spirit[ is the way we name our sorrows, disappointments, and pain so that we can begin the process of healing. It is important that we take the time to name and reflect on these shadowy things –

· because lament is honest – it recognizes the reality that our lives hold both great joy and real grief;

· because it recognizes God’s presence – many of the psalms (including today’s) recall our experience with God’s companionship in the past, and ask for a renewal of that companionship;

· because laments trusts – we can bring all that we are and all that we feel to God, in hope and confidence that God hears and will respond;

· and because lament builds the community – when we share words of lament we recognize our one-ness with each other and with all of creation.

When we open ourselves to lament – even while the carols are playing and the cookies are in the oven – when we open ourselves to lament, we are admitting that we need the savior for whom we are preparing. In his second letter to the church in Corinth, St. Paul wrote about light of Christ and then said this: “But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us.” [2 Corinthians 4:7] We are the clay jars.

Every year we have a special service the week before Christmas, usually on December 21 – our “Longest Night” service. It is a beautiful service of light and music – probably my favorite service of the year. It is dark and quiet, and it is offered for everyone in the community who finds the holidays difficult, those who are lamenting. But instead of trying to cheer people up, this is a service that acknowledges that Jesus did not come because the world was ready, but because the world was needy.

It is the clay service of Advent. All of the events that have eroded our spirits are mixed with water – you might think of it as the water of tears, but you might also think of it as the water of baptism. And then, in the hands of the divine potter, the clay that we are is molded into the persons that we are to be. The kiln that fires clay is replaced by the candles that represent the light coming into the world, the light that the world cannot overcome.

I know that it is too much to ask all of you to observe Advent in the way of the church instead of the way of the world. Even the Longest Night service is just one hour on one evening. But we would lose a great deal of the theology of Advent, I think, if we failed to hold this image of Advent in our hearts as a contrast and corrective to the rest of what we will be doing. Let there be clay alongside the tinsel this year.

Amen.

Prayer for November 30, 2008

Almighty and everlasting God, creator of all things seen and unseen, hear now our silent prayers, as we open our hearts to you in the sacred quietness.

God of faith and hope, we bring before you our prayers for those we have named this morning – we especially remember … Bring to each of them the gifts of mercy and grace that are most needed, according to your wisdom and love.

God of new beginnings, we pray today for the gift of being advent people – people who are waiting, watching, and hoping for the coming of Christ.

So do not let us be so busy in the coming weeks that we have no time to waste. Instead, nudge us into idleness and daydreaming, where we might catch a glimpse of you. Slow us down from the flurry of activities and responsibilities that can easily blur our vision and deflect our attention.

Give us, instead, a mindful attentiveness to the traditions and stories of music of this season. Do not let us skip over Advent in our hurry to arrive at the manger in Bethlehem. Help us to savor the powerful words of the prophets, to ponder strange events with Mary, to gaze at the flames of the advent candles, and to heed the call to watch and make ready.

We pray also for a mindful attentiveness to the mysteries of the season. We wonder at the mystery of the incarnation, of your choice to live among us and to share our common lot. And we wonder at the promise of your return in glory, which seems both literally unlikely and spiritually imperative. Bless our wondering, we pray, and help us to hold fast to the paradoxes of our faith.

Finally, we pray for the gifts of persistence, patience, and hope as we continue to invest our lives into the building of your kingdom. The forces of violence, selfishness, and exploitation do not take time off during the holiday season, so we dare not let our attention wander entirely from our work of resisting those forces. Keep us sober, healthy, and attentive to the needs of the world around us, so we can stay ready to hear your voice and heed your call.

All these things we pray in the name of the one for whom we are waiting, even Jesus the Christ, and we pray together now in the words that he taught us …