Sunday, December 30, 2012

Christmas Lessons and Carols

It is a tradition at Trinity to have a service of Lessons and Carols on the theme of the Nativity on the First Sunday after Christmas. With extended readings from scripture, this service does not usually include a sermon. 

In lieu of a sermon, we share with you today the Collect of the Day for the First Sunday after Christmas:

Almighty God, you have poured upon us the new light of your incarnate Word: Grant that this light, enkindled in our hearts, may shine forth in our lives; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

May you have a blessed Twelve Days of Christmas!

We will return with a regular sermon next Sunday, January 6, the Feast of the Epiphany.

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Christmas When Everything Else is Going On


by the Rev. Dr. Paul S. Nancarrow

This sermon is based on Luke 2:1-20. Click here to listen to an audio of this sermon. 

One day last week I was listening to a news program on the radio. I’d taken a moment to put aside all my planning and preparation and worrying for the Feast of the Nativity and just wanted to listen. I was listening for inspiration. And I heard a story about the fiscal cliff. And a story about the congressional probe into the State Department and the Benghazi embassy. There were stories about gun control and its proponents and its opponents. There was a story about Newtown, Connecticut and grief and healing. There was an opinion piece about violence in our society. There was a story about a meteorite strike in California. So many stories, so many things going on, so many things tugging this way and that for attention in our busy and sad and difficult and dangerous world. 

And then, as one story was ending and before the next began, they played a little bit of music. It was a piece played simply on classical guitar — and as soon as I heard it I thought “I know that! I know what that music is.” But I couldn’t identify it, I couldn’t quite place it, because it wasn’t a tune I was accustomed to hearing played on a solo guitar. I thought “This is supposed to have words, it’s supposed to have a choir” — and then it clicked, then it crystallized in my mind, and I knew it was “Joy to the world,” a familiar Christmas carol that sort of snuck up on me, because it was coming at me in an unfamiliar way. And because the words weren’t there in the version on the radio, I thought about them in my mind, I sort of savored them in my imagination: the Savior reigns; let every heart prepare him room; let heaven and nature sing. And there was something about that familiarity-with-difference, something about that unexpected recognition, something about hearing that classic Christmas carol in a whole new way that filled me with a sense of delight and wonder and beauty. So for a moment I sat there, listening to the news of the world, experiencing this one remarkable opening of Christmas blessing and Christmas joy.

And I thought to myself, “How odd. How ironic. How strange that the message and the meaning and the feeling of Christmas has to sneak in around the edges, has to come up on me by surprise when I’m paying attention to all this other stuff in the world. Isn’t it supposed to be that Christmas, the coming of Christ into the world, should take center stage, should be the most important thing of all?”

But then I thought, “Well maybe it’s not so strange. Maybe the coming of Christ always sneaks in around the edges, while the world is going on about its worldly business, and nobody else really seems to be paying attention.”

That’s the way it is in the Gospel story — that’s the way it is in this passage from Luke that we’ve just heard read. As Luke tells the story, everything is happening the way it always happens, and the birth of Jesus takes place out of the way, off in a corner, when no one’s paying attention, and only a handful of people recognize that the whole created world has just been changed.

As Luke tells the story, Bethlehem was bursting: the town was filled with people who’d been displaced from their homes and forced to come to Bethlehem for the Roman census. There wasn’t enough food and shelter and supplies for all those people; and the innkeepers and foodsellers and shopkeepers were not slow to recognize the economic potential of their newly scarce commodities. Mary and Joseph were on the street, with nowhere to go and no one to help them and not enough money to buy their way in this suddenly expensive and unfriendly town. The world of Bethlehem went on its worldly way, and working people had work to do, and merchants and artisans and carpenters and soldiers and sheepherders went about their business, and nobody really noticed the young couple ducking into a stable to find a quiet place away from all the noise and bustle and craziness and mess.

And that, Luke says, is how Christ came into the world: not on center stage, not in a moment of quiet and contemplation; but right in the thick of things, when everything else was going on, when no one in particular stopped to notice it. Only Mary and Joseph held their newborn boy, and looked into his eyes, and he looked back in theirs, as only a newborn can do — and they knew God’s love had been born into human life, and nothing else would ever be the same. Only the shepherds, out in the fields, the lowest of the working class, the ones everybody else ignored — only the shepherds looked up above the horizon, and saw a gleam and a glimmer and light in the sky that hadn’t been there before, and heard songs that no one else stopped to hear — and the shepherds knew they didn’t have to be afraid, and the promise of salvation was born for them, and it was good news for all people. 

In Luke’s story, the coming of Christ into the world sneaks in around the edges, it happens when people are paying attention to all this other stuff, it comes as a surprise, when only a few people notice that all creation is changed. When Christ comes, Luke says, he doesn’t wait for the world to be ready, or prepared, or paying attention; but Christ comes right in the middle of things, and right from the middle of things, the love of Christ changes everything.

And that’s how it is with us, too. The love of Christ at Christmas sneaks in around our edges, it comes to us as a surprise, in the middle of things — and the promise of love and compassion and peace and redemption, the promise of new life being born in us, transforms everything. The world goes about its worldly way, yet we know that God is with us, and in God’s love for us, everything is being made new.

And that is the kind of Christmas I invite you to celebrate this year. Right in the midst of things, look for the coming of Christ. Let Christ’s presence sneak in around the edges of your consciousness, and let the love of Christ be born in you in moments of surprise and wonder and joy. It may be when you’re listening to the news; it may be when you’re opening presents on Christmas morning; it may be when you are thinking about the grief of a friend or a community or yourself; it may be when you’re singing a Christmas carol at midnight mass; it may be when you’re sharing Christmas dinner with family and friends. However it comes to you, let the love of Christ sneak in around the edges and surprise you, when you see love in someone else’s eyes, when you ask forgiveness from a friend where there has been hurt, when you make a commitment to take an active role in reducing violence in our society, when you go over your tax records before the end of the year and decide to make another donation to another charitable work, when you feel the beginning of hope in a situation that seemed all but lost, when you sense new possibilities being born in a world where every new possibility is a gift. This Christmas, let the love of Christ sneak in around your edges, let the coming of Christ surprise you right in the midst of doing everything else, let the sudden birth of the Christ-life in you come in the middle of things and transform everything.

May God grant us all the gift of the Spirit at Christmas time, and may we live that Spirit in every time. Amen.

Sunday, December 23, 2012

Blessed Are They Who Believe


by the Rev. Dr. Paul S. Nancarrow

This sermon is based on Luke 1:39-55. An audio version of this sermon is available at this link.

“Blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”

Those are the words with which Elizabeth brings to a climax the spontaneous outburst of praise and blessing that came to her when she greeted her young cousin Mary in our Gospel reading today. “Blessed is she who believed” is a kind of hook for the whole story to hang on. And it is a promise beyond the story for those of us who hear it.

But how does Elizabeth know just how blessed Mary is? Mary’s just arrived, Mary has not yet had a chance to tell Elizabeth the remarkable thing that has happened to her. How does Elizabeth know how to bless?

Partly it is because Elizabeth herself is in an unexpectedly blessed situation. Elizabeth is pregnant, six months along — and that’s unusual because Elizabeth and her husband Zechariah are old, “getting on in years” as Luke delicately puts it, and though they’ve tried for years they’ve never had any children. They were past hoping for that. And then the angel Gabriel appeared to Zechariah and told him that Elizabeth would bear a son, and their son would be great in the sight of the Lord, and he would turn many people to God, and make ready a people prepared for the Lord. And Zechariah had said “Oh I don’t think so — we’re too old for that.” And Gabriel had said “God’s word will be fulfilled; but since you have not believed it, you will not be able to speak any words until your son is born.” So Zechariah, mute, went home; and Elizabeth did conceive, impossible though it was; and they were overjoyed; and Elizabeth kept their good news to herself, and remained in seclusion for five months.

But in the sixth month something happens that needs Elizabeth’s attention. Her cousin Mary is on the doorstep, arrived in haste, clearly with something big, something extraordinary, something life-changing, going on with her. So Elizabeth goes out and brings Mary into the house and Mary greets her — presumably she says “Peace be with you,” because that was the common greeting of the time — and as soon as Elizabeth hears Mary’s greeting, Mary’s word of Peace, the child in her womb who will be John the Baptist gives a mighty kick, leaps, jumps for joy in utero. And Elizabeth herself is so surprised by this that the Holy Spirit uses that opening to fill her with insight, and she knows Mary’s story — without being told, she knows — and she witnesses Mary’s blessedness, that Mary’s child is her Lord, and that Mary is blessed because she believed.

And specifically, Mary is blessed because she believed “that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.” When Gabriel came to Mary, as he had come to Zechariah before, and told her she would conceive and bear a son, Mary, like Zechariah, had asked “How can this happen?” She had her questions. But when Gabriel said “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God,” Mary had not said “Oh I don’t think so”; instead she said “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word”;  and so it was. Even though by all human standards it was clearly impossible, Mary trusted that “nothing will be impossible with God,” and that these impossible words would be fulfilled.

But more is at stake here than just the fulfillment of Mary’s impossible pregnancy. Mary also believes there will be a fulfillment of the angel’s words — God’s words — that her son will receive the throne of David, and reign over the house of Jacob, and bring in a kingdom without end. That’s the vision Mary gives voice to in her Magnificat. Mary speaks of God’s mercy on generations; Mary speaks of the proud scattered in the thoughts of their hearts, the powerful brought down from their thrones, the rich exposed to the emptiness of their riches; Mary speaks of the faithful gathered, the lowly lifted up, the hungry filled with good things. And so powerful is Mary’s belief in the fulfillment of these things, that she speaks of them in the past tense, as things already accomplished, even though clearly they haven’t happened yet. In Mary’s world the Romans are still in control, and in a few months she and Joseph will by forced by Roman authority to leave their home and go to Bethlehem, where they will be counted in a census to determine how much tax money the Emperor can raise to fund his interminable wars and corrupt occupation government. In Mary’s world the rich show no sign of letting go of their riches, and the powerful show no sign of relinquishing their power, and the lowly and poor, like Mary herself, see no sign any significant change on their horizon.

But God has spoken, and Mary has heard it, and Mary trusts so completely that there will be a fulfillment of this speaking that she gives herself — mind and heart and soul and body — she gives herself to living out the fulfillment of God’s word in her life, and the life of her son within her, and Elizabeth’s life, and the lives of everyone who will be touched by what God is doing through her. That is the power of blessing God has focused in Mary. And Elizabeth proclaims “Blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”

And that is the blessing God promises to share with us today, too. Blessed are we, when we believe there will be a fulfillment of what is spoken to us by the Lord — and because we believe, we give ourselves — mind and heart and soul and body — we give ourselves to living out the fulfillment of God’s word of the reign of justice and peace in our daily, personal, public, communal, active lives.

And for us in our time and place, here and now, surely one of the most important ways we can give ourselves to the fulfillment of God's word of the reign of justice and peace is for each of us to take an active role in the work of reducing gun violence in our society. Over the last week, in the wake of the shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary School, people of all sorts and conditions in our country have joined in calling out for reducing gun violence. Ideas about how to do that have varied. Some have said we need better security, more armed guards in schools, better gun training and gun safety. Some have said we need more gun control, a ban on semi-automatic weapons, reducing gun violence by reducing the number of guns. Some have said that this is about more than just guns, that we also need better access to mental health care, to help identify the roots of violent behavior and steer it somewhere else before it acts out violently. Some have said we need a deep and serious and critical conversation about the role of violence in our society, how the news media report it, how TV shows and movies portray it, how computer games glorify it beyond all realistic proportion. Opinions differ -- but at the core of all the opinions is a central agreement that we need to do better, that we need to work together to be a society where little children at school, and shoppers at malls, and audiences at movie theaters, and worshipers in churches, and people going about their daily business, are not at risk of senseless violent firearm murder. As people of faith, we can be part of the solution, we each can search our conscience, we can pray with the Collect today that God will purify our conscience, so that each one of us can take the part we each can best take to work for the reduction of gun violence, to work for the reign of right relationships and peace. Blessed are we, if we believe enough in the fulfillment of what God has spoken that we will act.

Mary believed there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord, that she would give birth to Jesus, and that Jesus would bring the kingdom of peace; and because she believed, Elizabeth was inspired to witness that Mary was blessed. May God grant us such believing. May God grant us such blessing. And may God grant us to do the work of Peace. Amen.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Rejoice. Even So, Rejoice.

by the Rev. Dr. Paul S. Nancarrow

This sermon is based on Philippians 4:4-7 and Luke 3:7-18. An audio version of the sermon may be found here

"Rejoice in the Lord always," Paul writes in the opening verse of our Epistle reading today; and then, because it is so important to him, he repeats it: "again I will say, Rejoice."

Rejoicing is the dominant theme on this Third Sunday of Advent. It is a thread running all through our scripture readings, from Zephaniah's call to Jerusalem to rejoice, though the canticle's command to Zion to "ring out your joy," through Paul's letter to the Philippians, even to Luke's account of John the Baptist preaching good apocalyptic news to the crowds. It is in the title of the day: this day is still known sometimes as "Gaudete Sunday," from the old Latin introit of the mass for this day, which began "Gaudete -- Rejoice!" When we still used purple for Advent, this Third Sunday, the Gaudete Sunday, was the day we lightened up the Advent Wreath with a single pink candle. Over and over again, the theme and burden of this Sunday is the call and command to rejoice.

And yet... And yet...

On this particular Third Sunday of Advent, on this December 16, 2012, rejoicing seems for many of us like a difficult and tenuous thing. "Rejoice!" may be the dominant word in our liturgy; but many of us today feel it to be a fleeting thing in our hearts.

Partly that's because of the atmosphere of forced jollity that overtakes so much of our public life in this season of the year. It's in the aggressively cheerful Christmas music that's blared on the sound systems in big box stores, while harried shoppers rush around looking for things that will make their holidays just perfect, and all the while wearing expressions on their faces that betray anxiety and annoyance and depression and everything but perfect joy. It's in vapidly happy and sentimental Christmas shows the TV networks seem compelled to broadcast -- and in the snarky and sarcastic shows others seem equally compelled to rebut them with. It's in family and social gatherings that all too often seem to be about outdoing each other, rather than really enjoying each other's company. With so much fake happiness being pushed on us in the holiday season, it can be kind of hard to find the true rejoicing in the message of Christ.

And partly the difficulty in rejoicing is because here at Trinity this Advent and Christmas we have some mixed feelings. Last week I announced that Shelby will be leaving Trinity to accept a call to Emmanuel; and in the week since then I've heard from several people who join me in having very mixed feelings about that news. I've shared with people, and people have shared with me, their happiness for Shelby, their sense of joy that she will take another step forward in her career and ministry, that this is a good thing for her and we're happy for her in it. Several people have told me that they agree with me that Shelby's going to Emmanuel may help usher in a new time of cooperation and shared ministry between Trinity and Emmanuel, and that that will be a very good thing indeed. But none of that can change the fact that Trinity will miss Shelby, that her ministry here has meant a great deal to a great many of us. Many people have told me that they want to support me through Shelby's leaving, because they know that she's been a very good colleague and I will miss her sharing in this ministry -- and I appreciate their support very much. It is one of those changes in church life that remind us that nothing ever stays the same; that just when you think you've got things comfortable, God calls you to be more than comfortable; that growing into something new always requires giving up something of what is now. There is truth in that; but there's a little bit of melancholy in that too. And even though we know this is an opportunity for Trinity to explore a new moment of growth, there is sadness in Shelby's leaving, too. And that makes it a little harder to rejoice.

And partly, of course, it's hard to rejoice because even while we proclaim our faith, we live in a world that continues to be wracked by violence and loss and grief. The mass shooting in Connecticut on Friday, in which 27 people were killed, 20 of them children, has left so many of us stunned and shocked and so overwhelmed by it that we're not sure what to feel. It is tempting to rush in with questions -- Why did this happen? Who could do such a thing? What can we do to prevent it ever happening again? -- but answers to such questions are never simple, and they're always elusive, and sometimes they are nothing more than a defense mechanism to keep us from having to face the naked horror of what we humans are capable of doing to each other. In such a moment there is nothing to do but to lament, to weep and wail and name our grief, to pray to God to make up in mercy all the many deficiencies we know too well we have, and to turn yet once more to compassion, to bearing each other up in love, as the only thing that really makes sense in this sinful and broken world. How, in the face of that, do we rejoice?

And yet, for all that, the words from Philippians still speak to us, insist on speaking to us, will not cease speaking to us even in the silence of our grief: "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

The joy that Paul calls from us, the rejoicing that Paul commands of us, is something more -- something more than the forced jollity of the holidays, something more than the satisfaction of colleagues and ministers, something more even than security and safety and freedom from harm. The rejoicing that Pauls calls for does not depend on how happy we feel we are -- does not depend on us at all -- but depends on Christ. "Rejoice in the Lord," Paul says; "be in the peace of God," Paul says; "Let your hearts and minds be guarded in Christ Jesus," Paul says. The kind of rejoicing Paul points us to is not just being happy because everything around us is okay. The kind of rejoicing Paul points us to is a deep and abiding sense of rightness in God; it is a fundamental trust in the all-encompassing goodness of God; it is an ultimate consent, a rock-bottom Yes to life, even when life is difficult, because no matter what else happens, when everything is summed up and accomplished and played out to its end, God's love will bind all things up and God's love will make all things well.

That's what John the Baptist is talking about in our Gospel reading this morning, when he speaks of fire and judgment and winnowing and apocalypse, and calls it all good news. As John preaches it, the judgment is good news because the judgment will reveal the truth, when what is evil will be truly exposed as evil, and what is good will be truly lifted up as good, and the miasma of despair that so often prevents us from seeing God's good in this world because all we can focus on is the evil right in front of us -- that miasma will be cleared away and we will finally witness the creating grace of God in all the good it has truly done. That is the judgment John promises. And putting our whole trust in that judgment, orienting our lives and our actions toward that revealing of good, as John exhorted the crowds to do, frees us from fear and gives us a peace and joy in God so deep that no earthly sadness or disappointment or suffering can shake it or take it away.

"Rejoice in the Lord always," Paul writes. And we can receive that word here at Trinity today, because we know that rejoicing in the Lord is not just a matter of being happy or satisfied or secure, that rejoicing in the Lord is not primarily a feeling at all, but that rejoicing in the Lord is a choice, rejoicing in the Lord is a decision to trust that the goodness of God is at work all around us, even when -- especially when -- we cannot see it clearly by ourselves. "Rejoice in the Lord," Paul says, because "the Lord is near" -- and when the Lord comes no grief or destruction or sadness can fail to be redeemed in his all-renewing love.

That is the promise of Advent. That is our good news today. And that is why, even so, we rejoice. Amen.

Sunday, December 9, 2012

Waiting for Jesus

Today Trinity Church received its episcopal visitation from the Rt. Rev. Neff Powell, Bishop of the Diocese of Southwestern Virginia. The bishop preached on the theme of Advent, and how during the season of Advent we wait for the coming of Jesus in three ways: the coming of Jesus as a child born in Bethlehem, the coming of Jesus in the present day in the faces of friends and strangers, and the coming of Jesus at the end of time.

You may listen to the bishop's sermon with this link

Sunday, December 2, 2012

God's Promise


by Susan Peyton

An audio version of this sermon is available here.

Good morning.  Or perhaps, Happy New Year?  It just doesn't sound right, does it.  Today is the First Sunday in Advent – the beginning of the church year.  I don’t think the media, or Hallmark has judged Advent particularly noteworthy.  Certainly you can buy a set of 3 purple and 1 pink candles for your Advent wreath.  And Advent calendars are out there, generally with chocolate behind every window.  The hymns for Advent are wonderful, but no one really recognizes them as Advent hymns.  I started thinking through what precedes January 1st, the New Year most people recognize.  And since most New Year’s resolutions may involve eating healthier, shopping less and drinking less, there tends to be more eating, drinking and shopping before New Year’s, to kind of get it all in by January 1st.  So for comparison, here’s a few things that happened during November.  (disclosure, please do not take any of this data as a political statement).  The beginning of November, 119 million people voted for the top two presidential candidates.  During black Friday weekend, over 247 million people went shopping, and they collectively spent over  $ 1 billion.  And over $ 6 billion was spent on the presidential race.  In both cases, that is a lot of money being spent.  And, a lot of people standing in lines to get some deals. 

But waiting is not something everyone does easily.  Advent, a time of preparation, of waiting, not for Black Friday super deals, but for the deal of our life and soul.  But, the readings this morning, they certainly confuse things.  (And when I asked Paul if I could preach here one more Sunday, why didn’t I read the lessons first?!)  Who doesn’t like waiting for a baby to be born?  Everyone is expectant, trusting everything will go just fine.

Instead, we hear Jeremiah.  Talking about the fulfillment of God’s promise to Israel.  Not the birth of Christ, but rather, the second coming of Christ.  Rather confusing.  Okay, let’s try the psalm for today.  David seems to be hedging all bets with this one.  First, Oh God, I trust in you.  Um, but by the way, just don’t embarrass me, and especially not in front of my enemies.  Then back to the straight and narrow.  Lord, I wait for you all day long, and ask that you teach me and lead me the right way.  Um, just another little thing, could you possibly forget about the things I did when I was younger?  I really did some things I’m not proud of, so maybe you could simply love me so much, that you will be merciful.  And I know, that those who believe in the Lord will know His love, and his faithfulness to them.  This psalm, almost sounds like something any of us might think when we’re being honest with ourselves and God.  Some days we are strong in God’s love, and other days feeling a little foolish for some of the things we have done.  One historical note.  David starts this psalm by saying “To you, Oh Lord, I lift up my soul.”  During his time, that actually referred to lifting up your hands, showing that your hands are empty, no weapons, no gifts.  Symbolic of presenting yourself to God.  And in his psalm, he did bare his soul to God.  I’ve sinned, and I hope you love me and will show me your mercy. 

So on to Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonians.  The first letter Paul wrote.  This one really struck me as part of a letter I might receive.  Wouldn’t this be a letter to receive from your grandmother, or aunt?  Dear Susan, I give thanks to God daily for being blessed to have you in our family.  I can’t wait to see you again, and I feel strongly that together we can work out what may be troubling you.  And may God lead us on our journey to you.  And bless us and strengthen us.  A beautiful benediction in the middle of the reading, and another reference to “the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints.”  Again, not His birth.  Hmm. 

Okay, I’m holding out hope for Luke’s lesson. “There will be signs in the sun, the moon and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves.”  For several years now there always seems to be a natural disaster somewhere around the globe. But that has been happening throughout the ages.  This latest was Sandy, but there was the one in Japan, and Katrina.  “Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with …the worries of this life.”

So these short four weeks of Advent, will pass in the blink of an eye.  We really need to be waiting, not just to celebrate Christ’s birth, but watchful for his second coming.  And we need to slow down, and pray not to be dragged down by the commercialism of our world.  The season of Advent can’t become a shopping marathon.

I saw a video on youtube this week.  Any website that is bustedhalo.com sounds alright by me.  Advent in 2 minutes.  It has some pithy advice.  Don’t confuse Lent and Advent.  Lent is like spring cleaning, and advent is cozier, a time to welcome a special guest.  Remember to find joy in waiting.  And also, if you are sick of Christmas by December 25th, you haven’t done Advent right.

So this journey we are on together.  Our first stop is one we can almost see.  Gathering in 4 weeks to celebrate Christ’s birth.  But each week, to light a candle, to remember who and why we are waiting.  To slow down, to prepare during Advent, to balance the temptations of this world.  To realize our days are shorter, and we are in darkness more each day.  And perhaps identify if the darkness is just outside, or is it within us.  To use our ordinary time, driving, or walking, or waiting on hold, to slow down, to pray, to reflect.  And maybe, to use the circumstances of Christ’s birth as a pattern of giving for Advent.  For Mary and Joseph, who had no shelter without the stable, think of the homeless.  For the animals in the stable, who provided warmth and company during his birth, remember our pets, and those animals who have been abandoned.  And for Christ, who came into this world a baby, remember the children without parents, food, homes or medical care.  Perhaps, our Advent traditions should be more about others, and less about ourselves.  No matter what is happening around us, we have God’s promise.  A promise beyond Christ’s birth, the promise of God’s kingdom.  Amen.