“Holy Awe”
Third Sunday in Advent
December 10, 2023
“Magical Summer Nights” by Jennifer Allison
Psalm 126
Luke 1:57-66
Children’s Message:
I have this ornament that my mom got for me several years ago. One Christmas season, it dropped from the tree and broke. I could have thrown it away. It’s broken, after all. But I didn’t. I tried to glue it back together, but there’s a piece missing. And the pieces I did glue together don’t fit quite right.
Now, if you held you eye up to this before it was broke, it would be completely dark, right? But now, with this big hold and some of the cracks, if you hold your eye up to it, you can still see the bell inside.
Today we heard about John’s birth. Do you know who John was? He was Jesus’ cousin. He started a ministry of baptizing people to prepare them for Jesus’ teachings and ministry. As an adult, he was known as John the Baptizer—or John the Baptist. His job would be to crack open the solid ideas people had of God so that the light of Christ—Jesus’ words and teachings—could get in. Pretty important job.
He used mystery and amazement to crack open those ways of thinking about God. But you don’t have to be a strange guy born to old parents, living on your own in the wilderness, eating yucky things to be amazing. You just need to be you. And you need to keep your eyes and ears open for amazing things—like broken ornaments and colorful leaves and stars at night. Can you think of other amazing things?
Let’s pray. Dear God, help us be amazed at you, and help us show others your mystery. Amen.
Message:
I may have told this story before, so bear with me. When Mark and I were dating, I would often ride a bike alongside him while he ran. One time, we went out on a dark night along one of the trails in Lincoln. There was no moon, and there was a stretch where the trees blotted out the street lights entirely. There was no way to see where we were on the trail. I kept waiting to ride right off and into a tree.
And then, the fireflies came out. They came out in droves. They lit up the path just enough to see by. I always say it was like riding through the stars. I remember the feeling of awe in that moment. It felt like Mark and I were alone in the galaxy. I felt so small. But I also felt so privileged to have that moment.
Author Brene Brown, neuroscientist Beau Lotto, and artist Jennifer Allison all say the same thing about the feeling of awe. It’s something that helps you see yourself in the bigger picture of the cosmos. It puts you in your place as the smallest of things while creating in you a deep feeling of significance. Like you matter. You are so important and yet so small.
And those feelings help us lean into a world of unknowns and uncertainties. In his TED talk, Lotto asks why we should care about experiencing awe. Why is awe so important? What does it matter? It matters because it fires up a part of the brain that helps us find well-being and balance in unbalanced situations. It creates in us the capacity to see each other as valuable and precious. It literally rewires our brains to be open to the grey in a black-and-white conversation.
You probably know the Leonard Coen song that says, “There’s a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” Mystery and awe create the cracks in our solid façade, making way for the light to get in. Making a way for us to be open to God’s invitation. Making a way for us to see Heaven carving paths in our daily lives. Awe and wonder crack us open and let the light in.
For instance, Lotto notes that we have a tendency to approach conflicts by arguing with each other, trying to get the other to agree with us. Instead, as people open to awe and wonder, we can approach conflict with curiosity rather than certainty. Imagine the world if people were filled with awe. Imagine the Church if people embraced mystery. Imagine families if people were open to amazement.
We wouldn’t have disputes to determine who is right, as if presenting a logical argument would change another’s mind. Instead, we would have discussions to learn more about what the other thinks and feels. What they hope for and are afraid of. Where they came from and what influences their choices—without developing our argument for how they are wrong. Awe and wonder crack us open and let the light in.
Today’s gospel reading isn’t part of the lectionary—meaning it is never scheduled to be read during worship as part of the 3-year cycle. We hear about amazement when shepherds spread the word about the baby they found in a manger. We hear about how Joseph and Mary were amazed at Simeon’s prophecy when they took Jesus to the Temple. We hear about how the people at the Temple were amazed at young Jesus’ teachings. And of course, amazement was all over the countryside as Jesus taught and healed and spoke warnings as an adult.
But we never get to hear about the amazement surrounding John and his parents. In this case, I think they were simply surprised at Elizabeth and Zechariah’s choice in a name. It was unprecedented. It didn’t come from the family line. But what is even more telling is the fear the people experienced as soon as Zechariah’s voice returned. Fear and amazement put together. One might call that awe.
And what better place to experience awe than in the presence of the one who would pave the way for the Messiah? Their minds and hearts began to open as they pondered the future of this child. “What will he become?” they asked. Because it was clear to them that God had a hand in this blessing. An elderly couple finally has a child. Their son bears a name beyond the family. And the miracle of becoming mute and a voice returning signifies something beyond understanding.
They will need open minds and hearts as they follow this child throughout the course of his life. He will not live a typical Jewish life. He will be seen as an oddity. Perhaps a bit crazy. He’ll live on the outskirts of polite society. He’ll eat what he can find—bugs, berries, and honey. He’ll probably appear a bit dirty, disheveled, and certainly undernourished. And when the time is right, he’ll make his way to the river to proclaim the Messiah’s advent—his imminent arrival.
People will continue to live in awe of this man—a combination of amazement and holy fear—wondering what he is about. Wondering if he’s right. Even wondering if he’s the Messiah. And he’ll be quite clear about it all. He’s not the Messiah. He’s there to point to the Messiah. His birth and his life, poor man, are dedicated to Jesus. He is inextricably tied to Jesus. In as far as his story is concerned, he has no life of his own. He was born for one reason and one reason alone. To prepare the way for the work of Christ.
And that preparation will be all about creating a sense of awe and amazement. Of bearing witness to the mystery that is God. Awe and wonder cracking us open and letting the light in.
These things—awe, mystery, wonder—are often lost in our world of Google searches and religious certainty. We have grown up in a reality that seeks answers over understanding. Consider how we bind teachers these days. They are forced to teach toward the various standardized tests to make sure the students can get the right answers so that the school can access government funds. And yet, teachers find interesting and creative ways to weave awe and wonder into their lessons. They have to. Because the students—our children, no matter where in they world they are born—are still open to mystery and imagination.
Unfortunately, we lose it along the way. We lose it as we seek achievement and status. We lose it as the world gets complex, and we long for black-and-white answers to complicated questions. We lose it as we become entrenched in the ways we’ve always done it; in the things that worked for us once upon a time; in the certainty that God is always and only a white old man with a beard who looks down angrily at a sinful world and insists on extracting payment for our misdeeds—sort of a mean Santa Claus.
That is not a God of wonder. That is not a God of mystery. That is not the God of the Bible, who self-identifies as a mother hen, who cries out for their children hell-bent on self-destruction, who chooses love over hate and self-sacrifice over annihilation.
The God of Scripture invites us to live in holy awe of creation, in wonderment of Christ’s love, in the grey—or better yet, multi-colored—mystery of life, itself. God invites us to let go of what we think we know about God and live in the midst of the unknown, the faith that seeks understanding. This is the misty, vibrant, unexplainable reality that helps us navigate the unfathomable love of Christ. It is how we become open to experiencing joy, even in the weariest of moments. This holy awe and wonder that crack us open and let the light in.
Pastor Tobi White
Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church
Lincoln, NE
