Gennifer Benjamin Brooks

There was an incident some years ago, when an elderly lady in some village parish in England was so fed up with the sound of the church bells ringing, that she took an axe and hacked her way through the oak door of the church. Once inside, she sliced through the bell ropes, rendering the bells permanently silent. The media loved it. There were articles in all the papers and the culprit appeared on television. The Church was less enthusiastic - and took her to court.

(See The Epiphany Of Our Lord, Cycle A, and The Epiphany Of Our Lord, Cycle B, for alternative approaches.)

This psalm is a prayer for the king, and it asks God to extend divine rule over earth through the anointed one who sits on the throne. Although the inscription says the psalm is about Solomon, that is a scribal addition. More likely, this was a general prayer used for more than one of the Davidic kings, and it shows the common belief that the monarch would be the instrument through which God acted.

In her Pulitzer Prize winning book, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, author Annie Dillard recalls this chilling remembrance:

There is so much uncertainty in life that most of us look hard and long for as many "sure things" as we can find. A fisherman goes back again and again to that hole that always produces fish and leaves on his line that special lure that always does the trick. The fishing hole and the lure are sure things.

If you don't know that Christmas is a couple of weeks away, you must be living underground. And you must have no contact with any children. And you cannot have been to a mall, Wal-Mart, Walgreen's, or any other chain store since three weeks before Halloween. Christmas, probably more than any other day in the contemporary American calendar, is one of those days where impact really stretches the envelope of time not just -- like some great tragedy -- after the fact, but also in anticipation.

One hot summer day, a young pastor decided to change the oil in his automobile for the very first time in his life. He had purchased five quarts of oil, a filter wrench, and a bucket in which to drain the used oil. He carefully and gently drove the car onto the shiny, yellow ramps and eased his way underneath his vehicle.

We've gathered here today on the second Sunday of Advent to continue to prepare ourselves for the coming of our Lord. This task of preparing for the arrival of the Lord is not as easy as we might think it is. As in other areas of life, we find ourselves having to unlearn some things in order to see what the scriptures teach us about God's act in Jesus. We've let the culture around us snatch away much of the meaning of the birth of the Savior. We have to reclaim that meaning if we really want to be ready for what God is still doing in the miracle of Christmas.

As we make our way through Advent inching closer to Christmas, our days are consumed with many tasks. Our "to do" list grows each day. At times we are often out of breath and wondering if we will complete everything on our list before Christmas Day. We gather on this Second Sunday in Advent to spiritually prepare for what God has done and continues to do in our lives and in our world. We have been too busy with all our activities and tasks so that we are in danger of missing out on the miracle of Christmas.

For his sixth grade year his family moved to the new community. They made careful preparations for the husky, freckle-faced redhead to fit in smoothly. They had meetings with teachers and principal, and practiced the route to the very school doors he would enter on the first day. "Right here will be lists of the classes with the teachers' names and students. Come to these doors and find your name on a list and go to that class."

The text we have heard today is pleasant, maybe even reassuring. I wonder, though, how many of us will give it any significance once we leave the sanctuary? Do the words of Isaiah have any real meaning for us, or are they just far away thoughts from a time that no longer has any relevance for us today?

When our children were small, a nice church lady named Chris made them a child--friendly creche. All the actors in this stable drama are soft and squishy and durable - perfect to touch and rearrange - or toss across the living room in a fit of toddler frenzy. The Joseph character has always been my favorite because he looks a little wild - red yarn spiking out from his head, giving him an odd look of energy. In fact, I have renamed this character John the Baptist and in my mind substituted one of the innocuous shepherds for the more staid and solid Joseph. Why this invention?

Litany Of Confession
P: Wild animals flourish around us,
C: and prowl within us.
P: Injustice and inequity surround us,
C: and hide within us.
P: Vanity and pride divide us,
C: and fester within us.

A time for silent reflection

P: O God, may your love free us,
C: and may your Spirit live in us. Amen.

Prayer Of The Day

The world and the church approach the "Mass of Christ" with a different pace, and "atmospheres" that are worlds apart. Out in the "highways and byways" tinsel and "sparkly" are everywhere, in the churches the color of the paraments and stoles is a somber violet, or in some places, blue. Through the stores and on the airwaves carols and pop tunes are up-beat, aimed at getting the spirits festive, and the pocketbooks and wallets are open.

In the United States just now, we're in the period between the election and the inauguration of the president. In our system, by the time they are inaugurated, our leaders are fairly familiar faces. Months of primaries and campaigning, debates and speeches, and conventions and commercials, all contribute to a fairly high degree of familiarity. We may wonder what kind of president someone will be, but we have certainly heard many promises, and we have had plenty of opportunities to get to know the candidate.

During my growing up years we had no family automobile. My father walked to work and home again. During World War II his routine at the local milk plant was somewhat irregular. As children we tried to guess when he would come. If we were wrong, we didn't worry. He always came.

What difference does my life make for others around me? That question is addressed in three related ways in our texts for today. Isaiah raised the emblem of the Servant of Yahweh as representative for what life is supposed to be, even in the middle of a chaotic and cruel world. Paul mirrors that reflection as he announces the fulfillment of Isaiah's vision in the coming of Jesus and the expansion of its redemptive effects beyond the Jewish community to the Gentile world as well.