Testify With Your Smile to the Light

When I started seminary one of the professors kept telling us to memorize the Psalter. We all thought she was nuts, of course. But then, over time, as we prayed the psalms not just daily but many times daily we began to understand them as hymns of faith and grace. One of the tests future priests go through is a period of hospital chaplaincy where you meet life and death head on. There we were reminded repeatedly of the power of the Psalter. It was the best way to soothe, it was the best way to feel soothed. Well, it turned out our professor was right.

Psalm 126:1 “When God restored our fortunes then were we like those who dream.”

Indeed. This is maybe the first time in my life that Advent has seemed grounded in reality to me. It is as though we descend deeper each day into the autumnal darkness metaphorically as well as in nature. The pandemic grows more powerful even as our ability to cope with isolation and deprivation and borderline (or not so borderline) despair weakens. And yet we dare to hope. We dare to smile at each other and say “this will all be over one day.” And into this moment comes the soothing of the growth of hope that the season of Advent brings. When has buying a Christmas tree or a wreath been a greater sign of faith and hope? When have the masked smiles of tree sellers and the expressions of “Happy Holidays” been sweeter? Dare we dream? Dare we look forward to a moment of restoration? Verse 6 of this psalm has the answer: “Those who sowed with tears will reap with songs of joy.” Indeed.

The purpose of the season of Advent is the expectation. It is even the purpose of the culture of Santa Claus, to teach not only little children but everyone else too what it means to expect, but to expect not only miracles but also reality. Through this experience we learn to know that what we expect is the annual rebirth of joy in our hearts, and that the joy must arrive in the midst of reality. It is where we learn to dream, to greet each other with a smile, to pray for the moment when we will reap joyous songs.

When I was a boy WWII and the Great Depression were still very real memories for my parents and grandparents. We were taught that our joy was important to hold onto, that our love for each other was critical. I was surprised to inherit recipes from my maternal grandmother that were full of substitutions necessitated by shortages and hard times. I am strengthened now by grace from my grandmother to face our own pandemic-substitutions, to see that we have the best Christmas we can manage in lockdown.

Paul gave the church at Thessalonika a straightforward set of instructions. These are (1 Thessalonians 5:16): “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances.” It is as tough a list in these times as any I suppose. I have found it both more necessary and more critical to pray without ceasing through this time. I have found rejoicing in the simplest places, especially in my interactions with the beauty of the world around me. It is in these small glimpses of joy that my heart is opened and I can truly give thanks. And it is in giving thanks that I find the strength to greet the dawn, to smile through my mask, to appreciate the simple gifts of a society that is trying to learn to walk in love through the midst of this valley of the shadow of death.

Is there a special message for LGBTQ people in this mid-Advent time? Only that we must remember that we are God’s children who are created to love, that to love is our identity, that the love we have to give is critical.

Christmas is coming. Christmas brings the light. We are to testify to the light as we experience it in our hearts. Rejoice, pray, give thanks, and testify with your smile to the light.

3 Advent Year B 2020 RCL (Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11; Psalm 126; 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24; John 1:6-8,19-28)

©2020 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.