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4 Advent December 21, 2014

Canticle 15, Luke 1:26-38

Carols, creches and poinsettias - it looks like the season of waiting

expectantly is drawing to its climax. Advent portrays time in non-linear
fashion; it intertwines an apocalyptic vision of the ascendent Christ who, the
creed reminds us, will come again to judge the quick and the dead, with
the expectation of the first coming, the child, the new life, engendered not
only in Mary of Nazareth but in the God bearer within each of us. As evolving
time circles around once again, heres Gabriels call reaching to and through
Mary to us - pointing to the way were called to go . . . by giving us hope .
. . by reminding us of grace - Gods intimate gift to us . . . reminding us
that were not alone in confronting the rigorous demands of a harsh
world . . . that we not only carry the divine spark within us but find it in our
neighbors, in each other.
Youd think thats enough for one sermon, but for me, today manages to hold
more than that. This December 21st marks the 36th anniversary of my
ordination to the priesthood - an occasion for reflecting not just on Gods gift
to us in the person of the Word made flesh, and not just on the hope of
eternal life in a faith culminating in Easter - but an occasion to reflect on my
own vocation to somehow witness to it all in word and deed. Thats always
been a daunting task for me. It may not come as a surprise to many of you
that Ive tended to wear my clerical collar uncomfortably. Trying to make light
of that discomfort, I used to pass out business cards that said The Barely
Reverend John Fisher, which Ive come to see as not nearly as clever a joke
as I thought it was. Im not the first person whos tried to hide selfawareness of my inadequacy behind the guise of a little humor. (In this case,
very little).
Ive always appreciated my anniversary date falling on the Feast of St.
Thomas, the disciple known as doubting Thomas because initially he didnt
believe the other disciples account of having seen the risen Jesus - saying
that hed need to see the mark of the nails and put his hands in his side
before believing. Im sure you know the story, how in his next resurrection
appearance, Jesus invited Thomas to do exactly that and believe, and
Thomas did, falling on his knees and proclaiming my Lord and My God. Its
a story of how faith doesnt discount doubt but subsumes it into a greater
truth - Gods truth - a hope that begins where the limits of what any of us
have seen and believed is transformed into the greater realm of the divine.

Its no coincidence that my son is named Thomas. What is a coincidence is

that through no agency of mine, Thomass adoption was formalized by the
State of Texas on December 21st, 1990, giving me not one but two
anniversaries to observe on this date, two milestones in my life to celebrate
and reflect on in wonder and gratitude. Im not given to weird interpretations
of things like that coincidence - the name, the date, the anniversaries. I like
to think God has more important things to attend to than juggling with
numbers and names, but still . . . despite my hesitancy, somethings there,
knocking at my door, asking for a place to stay.
As Ive said frequently standing right here, especially when it comes to faith,
Ive always put a high premium on doubt. In fact I first came to any real
acceptance of faith following a conversation I had with my friend, the author
Madeleine LEngle, in which she managed to hold me up for the apparent
sincerity of my rejection of Christianitys seemingly outrageous and
ridiculous claims while somehow convincing me that I was cheating myself of
the greater vision . . . the greater truth. Keep fighting, keep doubting,
John, she said, God loves a fighter. But why dont you just try accepting?
Could it be youre afraid to be loved?
I still dont know exactly why, except Im pretty sure it had something to do
with her looking through all my bluster right into my fears, but I did try just
accepting the reality of Gods presence - right then and there. I walked
across the grounds and went into the massive, mysterious space of the
Cathedral of St. John the Divine and got down on my knees, closed my eyes,
saw a vision of Jesus in my mind, and felt myself so overwhelmed and
suffused in Gods love that I literally cried. And that experience catalyzed
something that around half a dozen years later led to my ordination and from
there to an aging bald guy standing right here, trying to work out the
mysteries of our faith along with you and still puzzling at how the mysterious
way God works put anyone as unlikely as me into this priestly venture.
Since those initial steps into a realm Id glibly dismissed, as I said, oftener
than not Ive worn my vocation more uncomfortably and uncertainly than I
believe most of my colleagues have.The power of my conversion experience,
if thats what it was, hasnt weathered the test of time particularly well. A lot
of that barely reverend stuff, maybe all of it, came more out of pride and
arrogance than anything else. If I couldnt measure up to the conviction of
the greater piety I believe I saw in others, Id set myself up as the iconoclast,
the priest whod explore unusual and (I hoped) intriguing perspectives while
coloring outside the box. God forbid I should just wear my vocation humbly.
According to the story, thats what Mary did. Charged by God through the
angel Gabriel with as outsized a mission as a human being can carry, she
first declared her own unworthiness and then humbly answered let it be
according to your word. Having accepted the call, she subsequently sang of

the rewards it brought her: My soul magnifies the Lord; my spirit rejoices in
God my savior. Its a statement of unmitigated joy - the joy not just of being
chosen, and not just of having accepted her call, but of carrying Gods
presence deeply and lovingly within. Just think about how powerfully those
words of joy and wonder have echoed down the centuries. I dont think its
because of their poetic beauty or their hints of apotheosis, that is the
attempt to deify Mary into some kind of near God. I think the words of the
Magnificat and in fact the entire Mary narrative endure so powerfully
because of their resonance with ordinary people like us. Mary, the godbearer, couldnt be more human. Her experience touches the experience of
everyone whos ever lived. Were all children of God and bearers of Gods
Word. Marys role is universal. Every mother is a God-bearer. And even
though that doesnt include all of us who havent literally carried another life
inside, still we resonate with her for more than one reason: if all of us havent
carried a child, all of us have been carried. And weve carried any number of
Gods children in our hearts.
Part of the ambivalence about being a priest Ive carried over the years has
something to do with a cynicism I hope one day to grow out of. As it is,
sometimes another persons apparent piety can excite an unkind judgment
on my part - aw, that isnt sincere. Shes fooling herself. Hes just putting on
a show, because thats whats expected. This isnt faith; it seems more
pathological. Well, maybe theres something to those thoughts. But as the
Pope has said, who am I to judge? And the thing is, usually accompanying
my critical stance is an inward self-doubt that can border on shame: Are
they holier than I am? Do they see how far short I fall?
Judgment and defensiveness punctuate my faith, often as much as do joy
and fulfillment.
I think the great story of Marys courage is only secondarily her acceptance,
her willingness to bring the Son of God into the world, her obedience in
affirming let it be according to your word. Yes, accepting Gods call takes
courage, and Ill even give myself a pat on the back for having quit the safe
and lucrative world of investment banking for an entirely different and I hope
more worthy trajectory. But the greater courage Mary holds up as the ideal,
the model for us all, is the depth of the vocation she accepted, the
thoroughness. Its one thing to open up to Gods Word; its quite another to
carry that Word authentically into a needy world. Mary was what not only I in
my ordination vows but each one of us among the priesthood of all believers,
is called to be - a vehicle of the good news of Emmanuel - God with us - an
apostle of Gods love, manifest in Gods Son Jesus, with the courage not just
to show up, not just to repeat the words, but the courage also to reach
fearlessly within for the truth; and the courage to love, not just those closest
to us who love us back but even the least of our sisters and brothers . . .
even our enemies.

Let me close with a brief poem by Madeleine LEngle, which in 4 pithy lines
may say more about us and Mary and God than any 15 minute sermon:

This is the irrational season

When love blooms bright and wild.
Had Mary been filled with reason
Thered have been no room for the child.
At the end of the day, isnt making room for Christ what its all about?
Were almost through this years countdown - just 4 more days until
Christmas. Whether weve been naughty or nice, I hope each of us will pause
in this time to reflect on Gods grace and on the ministry were all called to,
and I hope that ministry will shine throughout the coming year and beyond
out of a host of magnified souls and rejoicing spirits.
Amen.