#CHRISTISNOWHERE: Will We Find Jesus, Our King Of Christmas? – [Fourth Sunday / Sermon of Advent]

With all the shopping and wrapping, hurry and stress of the season, along with the many crises of 2020, it is almost impossible to sense the presence of Christ. What can we do to remember and live as if Jesus is King of our Christmas?

Advent is that season of the church which precedes Christmas.

It’s a time to remember when Christ was nowhere.

We are the Christmas people though, believing and giving witness to the world that Christ is now here.

But there was a time in the world when Christ was not.

And that is how it still feels for too many people.

It can feel that way in the church too.

Often it feels like Christ is nowhere, but we choose to remember and believe that Christ is now here.

There is a word that describes this Advent experience.

Prolepsis.

Prolepsis is not a word used much around my house. Never, actually.

For those in speech or debate class, you may be familiar with prolepsis. It’s the anticipation and answering of a possible objection to a point you are making in your presentation.

For those that are story-tellers, we use phrases that tap into prolepsis.

When we use a phrase like: “he was a dead man walking” – he’s not really a dead man yet, but he will be, and he is seen as a dead man now, though he is not yet.

A few years ago I was in jail, thinking about prolepsis.

Following my sermon study, I made a visit to the county jail. While waiting for the inmate to be brought out for our visit, I stood leaning against the cement wall pondering how to explain prolepsis.

I got to thinking of all the inmates I have visited in jail.

There are some inmates who are truly imprisoned.

For them, the past, present, and future are wrapped up in being imprisoned now. They feel trapped, they don’t know how to avoid being jailed, and though they don’t want to stay in prison, they don’t know what to do different to stay out of prison once they get out.

But there are the prisoners I visit with who are already free.

They may be on the other side of the glass, but they are with me in spirit. When we talk, we talk about what will be different, and what is already different. They are ready to do the work now that will both lead to freedom and keep them free.

They are not just living in the future, they are doing now what they will need to do in the future to be and stay free.

Though they are not as free as they want to be, they are as free as they can be. They are so certain of becoming an staying future, that they live and act now as if they are free.

That is prolepsis. The future present now, but not yet. The present that is yet to be. The future unfolding in the now.

Prolepsis in Scripture is scripted by promises.

Prolepsis helps us see the Christmas story anew, because Christmas is about promises made and promises kept.

Christmas is about the present that is yet to be, about a future that is unfolding in the now.

Christmas is about Jesus as king now, but not yet.

You can see this so clearly in Mary the mother of Jesus, as written down in the Gospel according to Luke.

The messenger of God proclaims good news to Mary:

you shall bear a son who will save his people from their sins; You will name him Jesus, and he will lead his people out of exile; Jesus will become king of Israel, he will sit upon the throne of his ancestor King David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; His kingdom shall come and it will never end.

What does Mary do? A few things.

First she wonders why the angel is even there.

Then she wonders how all this will happen.

But then, in wonder and delight, she responds with faith and faithfulness:

“May it be to me as you have promised.”

Mary, Theotokos – mother of God

Soon after she hurries off to hang out with her cousin Elizabeth, who had a similar encounter with a messenger of God.

While there, Mary bursts into song, and it’s full of prolepsis.

Mary’s song envisions a world where what God has promised has already come to pass.

Mary’s Song of Protest, Gospel via Luke, chapter 2

All the angel did was announce the birth of a king, and Mary is singing about the downfall of the proud.

Mary believes a savior will be born, and now she is lauding the Lord for having lifted up the poor and humiliated.

She’s not even pregnant yet, and Mary acts as if the promises to Abraham and David have already been fulfilled.

That is prolepsis.

Believing a promise so strongly you behave as if it is fully true now.

King David had a promise-making moment with the Lord, one that is very relevant to Mary’s song and our proleptic examples.

He finally had rest from warring against his enemies. David sat firm and secure on his throne. But as he looked out from his palace, he realized that God dwelled in a tent. Whereas David sat in royal splendor, God’s house was a stitched together of animal skins.

Maybe David felt guilty? Maybe David felt bad for God? Whatever the reason, God wasn’t impressed. He didn’t need a new house, didn’t want a new house, and didn’t ask David to build anything for him.

Actually God put David in his place: who are you to decide what kind of house is good enough for God?

But then God followed up with a string of promises to David: God will build a house for David that lasts forever. The God of Israel who established David’s kingdom will cause it to never end.

It’s an extraordinary promise to David, who is completely humbled by this turn of events.

David breaks into song and prayer, praising the Lord for making this promise to his house, to Israel. But David sings as if the promise is already fulfilled, he prays as if the kingdom is an eternal one already.

It’s like when a bride and groom pledge to uphold their vows to one another, promising fidelity forever.

In that moment, they are caught up in savoring an eternal promise. Right there and then they experience the feeling of a promise of forever fidelity.

For sports fans out there, everyone knows that elite athletes practice prolepsis. The basketball shooter at the free throw line can see himself putting the ball through the hoop before he actually does it. The future point is already present in the now, but not yet.

The quarterback can already see his wide receiver making the catch in the end zone before the throw has been made. The sprinter has already crossed the finish line in first place before he is out of the starting blocks.

In their minds they are victors before the contest has begun. They practice in prolepsis, seeing themselves holding the trophy while they prepare for it as if it had already come to pass, but not yet.

This is what the church does when we share in Eucharist together.

The bread and the cup of communion is a present experience of a future reality, the Great Banquet with the King. We eat and drink now as if the Great Banquet has already started.

We believe we are having a communion with the Lord now as if he had already set the table.

Or take baptism: we go under the water and are brought up from it as if we were dying and being resurrected from the dead.

Baptism is death and resurrection now, but not yet. It is believing the promise so strongly, we live now as if we have already died and been raised bodily from the grave.

Prolepsis is powerful and transformative; it is the name we give to the experience of believing the promises made to us, and living in the light of them.

Advent is a proleptic event: it reminds the church that we are a proleptic people.

If you:

have been baptized, you are living in prolepsis

partake of Eucharist, you are doing prolepsis

believe the promises God made to Israel were fulfilled in Jesus and are given now to you,

then you are doing prolepsis.

Christmas is prolepsis; the First Christmas being prolepsis of the Last Christmas.

Jesus coming to Israel as their king was a now AND a not-yet reality.

He is God reigning over the world in Jesus of Nazareth, king of Israel and lord of all nations, but not yet.

The crucified, resurrected, ascended Lord Jesus Christ was, is, and shall rule in truth and grace forever; he does so now through the church, but not yet fulfilled.

He has promised to rescue us from sin and death, we experience it now, but not-yet.

We are so confident in Jesus keeping his promise to save us, that we act as if it has already happened; the future present now.

Our trust in the Lord is so strong that we live now as if our forgiveness on Judgment Day has already occurred; the present that is yet to be.

The faith we have in God is so vibrant, we believe that his reign has already begun on the earth;
Christmas is about promises made and promises kept.

Christmas is about prolepsis. Will you believe it?

For those with searching eyes and yearning hearts, it too often feels like Christ is nowhere.

That’s what it felt like to the inmate I visited in jail, as she poured her heart out to me. How does God feel so far away? Why doesn’t he feel close?

But to those who have heard the promise and believe it, Christ is now here.

That is prolepsis.

And that is what Christmas is all about.

2020 Lectionary Reading for the Fourth Sunday of Advent: 2Samuel 7v1-11 & 16 // Luke 1v47-55 // Romans 16v25-27 // Luke 1v26-38

YMCA, Communion, Ecumenical Unity: Alexander Schmemann’s For The Life Of The World & the Eucharist

What is a way that communion can be part of the YMCA’s Christian ecumenical work in a community to build stronger bridges for a healthier spirit for all? Expanding and enriching our grasp of communion opens up new possibilities.

What is Communion? In part, it is about union with Christ Jesus, with God, with God’s people in Christ, across the globe and the ages.

As the Director of Christian Emphasis with the YMCA of Greater Fort Wayne, Indiana, and as one connected with other Christian Y workers around the state, country, and world, I muse often on why communion isn’t a more common practice within our association.

When I was first hired, and I proposed offering communion at different branches in the chapels for our members, I was discouraged from doing so. The main reason given focused on the non-unifying reality of communion, how it was not as inclusive as other Christian practices like praying, volunteering in the community, singing, or a Bible study.

Interestingly, this is a very similar reason given in the early days of my denomination, formed in the last decades of the 18th century, for why they only practiced communion quarterly as a church.

The Church of the United Brethren in Christ was formed amongst primarily German Protestants, led by a continental German Reformed pastor and a Pennsylvania German Mennonite minister. They had close ties with the British clergyman Francis Asbury of the Anglican-Methodist movement.

It was a heady day of revivals, of preaching to mass cr0wds in open fields or large barns. They sought to proclaim a simple message of salvation to churched-people.

The liturgy around communion in the Reformed, Mennonite, and Anglican churches became tainted with formality, a dead spirit, and legalism. A result: a de-emphasis on the role of communion in a Sunday morning worship gathering, and an over-emphasis on the proclamation of the word for the explicit result of the salvation of souls for Christ.

The YMCA movement in 1844, a British product of Anglican and Dissenter Christians, highly valued the revival style, with founder George Williams leaving a legacy of constantly witnessing to strangers for the salvation of their souls.

While the Y valued unity and harmony in the movement, as expressed in the 1855 Paris Basis, the emphasis was on the extension of the kingdom through revival-style tactics that led to the salvation of souls. It would seem that communion was delegated as a sacrament of the church, and the Y was not a church, but the Y could help the church out by saving souls, and then sending them to the church.

This became a complicated scenario. Often the young men saved by the YMCA didn’t want to join the stuffy old churches in town. So the Y had to provide discipleship courses and ministry training of their own. Springfield College provided a lot of this educational operations. But without the emphasis on communion, which was the role of the church.

The Y has moved on from offering Christian education courses as part of its core identity. Many other para-church organizations have sprung up over the decades to evangelize and disciple youth, men, and families. There is a current movement in the Y to strengthen the “C” – I’m part of that work; but: to what end? What can we learn from our past 176 years of Christian ministry work (evangelism & discipleship) and build on it, rather than repeat it or over-nostalgiaize it?

Click on pic for more on the World YMCA celebration and reflection of their 175th anniversary gathering.

My own church tradition has a mixed relationship with communion, much like many other conservative Evangelical congregations. With a reductionistic-like focus on the salvation of souls as the highest, most important, very urgent priority – the role of communion is minimized. It’s not always clear how to connect communion to the salvation of souls, other than to over-emphasize the atonement for our sins made through the death and resurrection of Christ Jesus on the cross.

While that part of communion is true, there is more to the sacrament of communion than just substitutionary atonement, of justification by faith, of sanctification by grace. There is also the spiritual unity that is inherent in the name of the practice: commune + union = communion. And it is this element that the YMCA can retrieve and build upon, especially with our emphasis on unity, on being “for all” and building bridges.

Rather than skim the surface in connecting with the many different kinds of Christians in the YMCA, we could make thoughtful attempts to build stronger spiritual bonds through the practice of communion. It’s not just the sharing of a cup and bread that bind us together, but how we understand it, what it means to us, how it connects us to what God has revealed to his people through Christ, through the Scriptures, and the saints who have come before us.

Growing up in the UB church, we partook of communion quarterly. Because it was so special, we didn’t want to take it too often, as that might cause us to take it for granted. Also, we didn’t want to be like the Catholics or liberal mainline congregations who took it every week. But even as a youth, it seemed to me that if communion was as special as we said it was, shouldn’t we do it every week? When I started a church, we “compromised” and practiced communion every month. For certain sermon series, we might do it every week, which was a relief for some in our congregation, and a stretch for others.

The practice of communion continues to stick in my heart as a sacrament which I want to understand better, that I want it to mean more; it seems to me there is more to it than what I was taught or experienced growing up. Getting to know faithful Catholic, Lutheran, Orthodox, Presbyterian, Church of Christ, and Methodist Christians who took communion every week has helped a lot.

I realize that there are certain restrictions that some denominations place on their members when it comes to partaking of communion. Because it is so special, it is especically guarded, to help keep it pure and it’s meaning sacred.

My Protestant evangelical heritage prompts me to open up communion to the world, but to also pay attention to the concern to keep it special. I’d like to find a way where we could offer communion every week, maybe every day, in a way that it would be open to the world, and still be special. The YMCA seems to be a vehicle to attempt those experiences.

In our under-nourished Christian ecumenical work, once a hall-mark of our YMCA identity, and now in America almost largely forgotten, the sacrament of communion could be a spiritual practice which re-focuses Christian Y members on Christ in a new, ecumenical way.

Something like this is needed for Christians to fuel the existential/spiritual work of racial reconciliation in our communities, adapting to and recovering from the effects of the pandemic, and building bridges across polarized chasms.

Thi attempt/experiment is not a replacement for the different Christian churches and how they do communion. But maybe rather a re-connecting point for Christians who are not part of a church tradition for many reasons, some of them being the hypocrisy of the church, the irrelevance of the church, the spiritual-deadness of the church, and other reasons.

There is much that needs to be thought out on this idea. For me, I know it includes continuing to expand my understanding of what communion means to other Christians and their church traditions.

This morning I was reading For The Life Of the World by Alexander Schmemann, former Dean and Professor of Liturgical Theology at St. Vladimir’s Orthodox Seminary. The following paragraphs from chapter 2, The Eucharist, caught my attention, I had to re-read it several times, as it made fresh connections and new points about communion that I found to be inspiring, disturbing, and encouraging.

It opens up for me a richer vision of what is happening in communion, of it’s larger purpose, what it can mean for me and for us as participants, and what it can mean for the church and the world. This Orthodox perspective is new to me, so there is much I need to learn yet to keep it in context. Yet, I do know that I will never participate in communion the same ever again, having read this perspective by Rev. Schmemann. For me, it reads as a profound meditation on John 17:21.

“As we proceed further in the eucharistic liturgy, the time has come now to offer to God the totality of all our lives, of ourselves, of the world in which we live. This is the first meaning of our bringing to the altar the elements of our food.

For we already know that that food is life, that it is the very principle of life, and that the whole world has been created as food for man. We also know that to offer this food, this world, this life to God is the initial ‘eucharist’ function of man, his very fulfillment as man.

We know that we were created as celebrants of the sacrament of life, of its transformation into life in God, communion with God. We know that real life is ‘eucharist,’ a movement of love and adoration toward God, the movement in which alone the meaning and the value of all that exists can be revealed and fulfilled. We know that we have lost this eucharistic life, and finally we know that in Christ, the new Adam, the perfect man, this eucharistic life was restored to man.

For He Himself was the perfect Eucharist; He offered Himself in total obedience, love and thanksgiving to God. God was His very life. And he gave this perfect and eucharistic life to us. In Him God became our life.

And thus this offering to God of bread and wine, of the food that we must eat in order to live, is our offering to Him of ourselves, of our life and of the whole world. ‘To take in our hands the whole world as if it were an apple!’ said a Russian poet.

It is our Eucharist. It is the movement that Adam failed to perform, and that in Christ has become the very life of man: a movement of adoration and praise in which all joy and suffering, all beauty and all frustration, all hunger and all satisfaction are referred to their ultimate End and become finally meaningful.

Yes, to be sure, it is a sacrifice: but sacrifice is the most natural act of man, the very essence of his life. Man is a sacrificial being, because he finds his life in love, and love is sacrificial: it puts the value, the very meaning of life in the other and gives life to the other, and in this giving, in this sacrifice, finds the meaning and joy of life.

We offer the world and ourselves to God. But we do it in Christ and in remembrance of Him. We do it in Christ because He has already offered all that is to be offered to God.

He has performed once and for all this Eucharist and nothing has been left unoffered. In him was Life -and this Life of all of us, He gave to God. The church is all those who have been accepted into the eucharistic life of Christ.

And we do it in remembrance of Him because, as we offer again and again our life and our world to God, we discover each time that there is nothing else to be offered but Christ Himself – the life of the world, the fullness of all that exists.

It is His Eucharist, and He is the Eucharist. As the prayer of offering says – ‘it is He who offers and it is He who is offered.’ The liturgy has led us into the all-embracing Eucharist of Christ, and has revealed to us that the only Eucharist, the only offering of the world is Christ.

We come again and again with our lives to offer; we bring and ‘sacrifice’ – that is, give to God – what He has given us; and each time we come to the End of all sacrifices, of all offerings, of all eucharist, because each time it is revealed to us that Christ has offered all that exists, and the He and all that exists has been offered in His offering of Himself.

We are included in the Eucharist of Christ and Christ is our Eucharist. (p34-36)

For The Life Of The World, Chapter 2, “The Eucharist”, pages 34-36, Alexander Schmemann

Prayer With the God Who Keeps His Promises

“Personal prayer is the meeting place between the Eternal One and me; the Blessed Sacrament is the visible sign of my covenant with him.

That is why I believe in personal prayer, and why everyday I wait to meet him in Eucharist. To pray means to wait for the God who comes.

Every prayer-filled day sees a meeting with the God who comes; every night which we faithfully put at his disposal is full of his presence.

And his coming and his presence are not only the result of our waiting or a prize for our efforts: they are his decision, based on his love freely poured out.

His coming is bound to his promise, not to our works or virtue. We have not earned the meeting with God because we have served him faithfully in our brethren, or because we have healed up such a pile of virtue as to shine before Heaven.

God is thrust onward by his love, not attracted by our beauty. He comes in moments when we have done everything wrong, when we have done nothing…when we have sinned.

– Carlo Carretto, The God Who Comes

#AGuideToPrayer

What strikes me most about this reflection on God and prayer is the humility and grace it evokes and presumes. Particular, the emphasis on God keeping his promises to us – that being a stronger force for how and when and why he makes himself known or acts in or through us. This perspective helps undermine prideful piety and controlling attitudes meant for good.

Prayer is more than dialogue and listening, more than wanting or waiting for answers. It can also be about hoping and seeking, coming to terms with God’s promises, submitting to them, and attending to the means of grace he has made available, the mystery, the agape, the beautiful communion.

Daily prayers are good and helpful, even keeping the divine hours or as St Paul insists, without ceasing. But in our work, rhythms of life, our schedules, our busyness, what is the space I make for myself to be present before the God who has come, is coming, and will come again?

In my spirit, with my mind, through my body, I can cultivate habits that aid me in experiencing life Eucharistcly. As the wind blows, so does the Spirit; my communion with the Lord is fueled by his love for all that he has made. It is never just me and God; his loyalty to me is tied up in his commitment to fulfill his promises to renew all things. Saints from ages past and those yet to be born, those around the world and throughout my neighborhood – and sinners whom God loves redemptively – these are all who Our Father works to keep his promises, always, unceasing, faithfully. Prayer is built on trust, even when as small as a mustard seed.

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