Advent: the sound of angels

Angels we have heard on high,

sweetly singing o'er the plains,

and the mountains in reply

echoing their joyous strains:

Refrain:

Gloria, in excelsis Deo!

Shepherds, why this jubilee?

Why your joyous strains prolong?

What the gladsome tidings be

which inspire your heav'nly song? [Refrain]

Come to Bethlehem and see

Him whose birth the angels sing;

come, adore on bended knee

Christ the Lord, the new-born King. [Refrain]

See Him in a manger laid,

Jesus, Lord of heav'n and earth!

Mary, Joseph, lend your aid,

sing with us our Savior's birth. [Refrain]

The sky is not falling, it’s Advent at Holy Nativity, we hear the sound of angels: Merry Christmas, Hallelujah, you may be seated.

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The sun will be darkened,
and the moon will not give its light;

The stars will fall,
and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

In my generation, Advent was a season as penitential as Lent; the Altar cloth penitential purple, Altar flowers not allowed; “Bless the Lord, who forgiveth all our sins.”

Those days are, thankfully, gone, and instead of artificially pious morose, we can smile: It’s St Nicholas Sunday, Christmas is coming! The spirit of Christmas is with us all month long, and into the New Year.

Here at Holy Nativity we have begun the process of searching for a new rector to come after Father Steve retires next May.

In the Episcopal Church, choosing a priest goes both ways. Not only do you choose the priest, the priest chooses you. In my days as a parish priest, a Pennsylvania parish that issued a call to us was quite appealing until a member of the search committee told me about something that had happened in the prior rector’s family. I said, “That’s very personal, how did you know about that?” The answer was, “Oh, we always know everything that’s going on in the rectory!”

Privacy is a prime value to me: that parish and I moved on separately, in different directions, apart, NOT together!

I wonder how it will sit when your new rector finds out how casual we are at Holy Nativity? Years ago when our last search committee was looking for our next priest, and Father Steve’s name came up, someone from a large prim and proper Birmingham, Alabama parish (that Linda and I used to attend when we were in Birmingham visiting her mother) was quoted saying, “Father Bates is a great guy, but we are a formal parish, and he’s too laid back for us.” I thought “AHA!!”

One of many things I’ve appreciated working with Father Steve is that he’s as easy with church rules as I am.

All this is relevant today because it’s the first Sunday of Advent:

The sun will be darkened,
and the moon will not give its light;

The stars will fall,
and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

But not at Holy Nativity. Dealing with the nightmare of Hurricane Michael just before Advent five years ago, we here at Holy Nativity had little patience with intentionally going into an even darker place of penitence and repentance for Advent. Life is short, and we haven’t much Time, and there is enough heaviness in life without creating it liturgically. Unlike your usual Episcopal parish, Advent at Holy Nativity is a happy season of Christmas tree, Christmas shopping, wrapping gifts, and our lovingkindness ministries of helping people.

Advent means “he comes,” and we celebrate the coming of Christ, not the end of the world. We have blue on the Altar, royal blue in anticipation of Christ the King. Setting aside stodgy Episcopal rules that forbid singing Christmas carols during Advent, at Holy Nativity, we deck the halls with boughs of holly.

This morning’s Advent gospel:

The sun will be darkened,
and the moon will not give its light;

The stars will fall,
and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

Bible scholars call this nightmare “the little apocalypse.” The Book of Revelation is the big apocalypse with monsters, and stinging scorpions as big as horses, this is the little apocalypse, sky clouding over, sun and moon going dark, and stars falling. But Christmas is coming, and the sky is NOT falling. Here at Holy Nativity you do not have to put on a somber church face these Sundays of December.

We give thanks to you, O God, for the goodness and love that you have made known to us in creation; in the calling of Israel to be your people; in your Word spoken through the prophets; and above all in the Word made flesh, Jesus, your Son. For in these last days you sent him to be incarnate from the Virgin Mary, to be the Savior and Redeemer of the world. In him, you have delivered us from evil, and made us worthy to stand before you. In him, you have brought us out of error into truth, out of sin into righteousness, out of death into life.

There is more than enough Time in life for sackcloth and ashes, for sadness, for beating our breasts and feeling guilty, confessing our sins, and doing penance.

The sun will be darkened,
and the moon will not give its light;

The stars will fall,
and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

But not this December, not this Advent, not at Holy Nativity: Christmas is coming: we celebrate his Nativity in Bethlehem to call us back to God.

It’s Advent at Holy Nativity: we do not hear the world coming to an end, we hear the sound of angels, Hallelujah!

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Sermon, homiletic endeavor by the Rev Tom Weller in Holy Nativity Episcopal Church, Panama City, Florida on Sunday, December 3, 2023, Advent One, Year A.

Gospel:

Mark 13:24-37

Jesus said, “In those days, after that suffering,

the sun will be darkened,

and the moon will not give its light,

and the stars will be falling from heaven,

and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory. Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.

“From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

“But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”