Sunday, December 8, 2019

December 8, 2019 - Advent 2A



O come, O come, Emmanuel. Amen.
            The Psalmist proclaims, “May all the earth be filled with the Lord’s glory.” That is our prayer, our hope, and our focus – that all the earth be filled with God’s glory. Last Sunday, I began a sermon series on the Incarnation – the central tenet of Christianity that the God of Israel, the God who created all things, the God who is being itself took on flesh and came to us in Jesus of Nazareth. This radical belief is at the heart of our Anglican tradition and influences how and what we believe.

            Embedded within this Psalm’s prayer for the earth to be filled with God’s glory is a sense of splendor, awe, and beauty – as that is what glory is. Another Psalm tells us to “Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness.” And that particular verse is so integral to our Anglican tradition that it became a part of Morning Prayer. Typically, at Morning Prayer we say Psalm 95 at the beginning, and then that verse about beauty from another Psalm is added to it. Because of our emphasis on the Incarnation and the embodied nature of Jesus and our faith, it has meant that Anglicans place a high value on beauty.
            Beauty comes when we value and appreciate the glory and splendor of the world around us. Beauty is unnecessary, but it is also vital. Think about food – yes, you could survive on a diet of nothing but plain oatmeal, but eventually your senses are going to crave more. Beauty feeds our senses by delighting us. In our tradition, we focus on the Incarnation, on how faith is manifest in our lives, and so we, therefore, focus on the senses and the beauty that satisfies those senses.
            This is why our Anglican tradition is so full of beauty. While some might see it as extravagance, we understand that it is merely a reflection of the embodied people that God created us to be. Had God wanted us to exist without being made up of matter and bodies or without senses, that could have happened. We could have been made as disembodied consciousness. But we weren’t. We are creatures who come from the dirt of the earth, and when God has completed the work of making the world, we are told in Genesis that God called it all “very good,” a phrase that in Hebrew means something like “This is what I intended.” In other words, God made a beautiful world. So paying attention to beauty is about recognizing the power and presence of God all around us.
            An Incarnational faith focus reminds us that, first and foremost, Creation is the product of a good and loving God. What is most original about Creation is goodness and beauty, not Sin and Death. For too long, Christianity has forgotten that a declaration of goodness came before the Fall. This is not to say that Sin isn’t very real and deeply within us. But Sin is something like a disease, not an identity. What is core to our identity is that we are made in God’s image, and God’s image is one of goodness, love, and beauty. Sin corrupts that image, just as illness corrupts health and wellness. But an Incarnational theology recognizes that the beauty and goodness endowed to us by our Creator is more powerful than the corruption of Sin that we are complicit in.
            Traditions that focus too much on Sin will ignore beauty because if we are wretched to our core, what’s the point of beauty? But we remember that goodness is at our core, and so we surround ourselves with beauty to remind us of God’s beauty and love and to awaken our senses to God’s gracious presence all around us. This is why beauty is such a hallmark of our tradition; being rooted in the Incarnation, which is about God’s physical presence with us, we focus on the beauty of the Created world.
So it’s no accident that St. Luke’s is the most beautiful church around here. There’s a reason why when we have liturgies that non-members attend, like last Sunday’s Advent Lessons & Carols or funerals, that the comment that we most often hear is “That was such a beautiful and meaningful service.” While the best response to that is a gracious “Thank you,” the truth of the matter is that our worship is beautiful because we are shaped by a tradition that recognizes and emphasizes beauty. The Anglican musical tradition is one of the richest in the world. And it’s no surprise that our tradition is filled with poets – TS Eliot, John Donne, WH Auden, William Shakespeare, Christina Rosetti, John Milton, Madeline L’Engle, Charles Wesley are all people who were formed in the Anglican tradition of beauty and it shaped the gifts they offered to the world. The stained glass, the intricate wood carvings, the glorious music, the ornate vestments, the flow of our liturgy – these things are not add ons, these are not extras, these are not excesses. They are beautiful markers of the Incarnation of God in the flesh of Jesus, reminding us of the inherent beauty of Creation that surrounds us. Beauty demands the best in us, and so we honor God by responding with beauty.
            What makes beauty so essential to our flourishing in faith is what beauty does to our imagination. One way of viewing a Van Gogh painting is that it’s just a hodgepodge of paint. Or we might say that we’ve evolved to appreciate things like symmetry, so that certain structures seem beautiful to us. But if you’ve ever been caught off guard by the beauty of a starry night, or a wonderful evening with family and friends, or a masterfully crafted sculpture, then you know that beauty can’t be dismissed with simple explanations of mechanics. What beauty does is to open our imaginations and reframe what is possible. Beauty means that things can be bigger than the sum of their parts and that things can have an ever-deepening meaning. It is a sense of beauty that can see a blank page and imagine a symphony, sonnet, or still life.
            Consider how our Scripture passages this morning point us towards the wonder and possibilities contained in beauty. When people hear the passage we heard from Isaiah, they often say something like “What a beautiful vision!” Indeed, the wolf and lamb, lion and calf, cow and bear, child and serpent living and playing together, while jarring, is a beautiful vision of what is possible in the peaceable Kingdom of God. It’s no surprise that this scene is so often depicted in art, it truly is a beautiful idea. It’s been said that prophets, like Isaiah, are people who have the throttle of their imaginations wide open. And that’s where beauty comes from; when we focus on what is possible instead of what is difficult. It really doesn’t take much effort to come up with a list of all the problems in the world or to shoot down solutions. That doesn’t take any imagination.
            What is much harder is to keep our eye on beauty and our imaginations open. And the prophets do this. It’s no accident that so much prophecy in the Bible, including today’s passage from Isaiah, is in the form of poetry, a literary form suffused with beauty. It is only with an eye for beauty and a wide-open imagination that we can see a vision in which wolves and lambs live together. This is why we surround ourselves with beauty in our worship, because we need to feed our senses, awaken wonder, and be stirred by that which is beautiful in the face of so much ugliness in the world.
            As a counter-example to the prophets, Matthew presents us with the people meeting John the Baptist in the wilderness. His call was to repentance, which is the call to change your mind. Repentance isn’t about making an apology, it’s about making an about-face. Repenting means that we think differently about faith and the world, that we let our imaginations consider new possibilities. But this is hard work; to pursue what we thought was impossible or wrong takes a lot of humility and courage. Those in Jesus’ day struggled with a poverty of imagination about what the Messiah would like, and we suffer that same poverty when we think we have all the answers.
            So what does this Incarnational sense of beauty mean for our lives? Beauty, whether it be in music, dance, or writing is about proportionality, not too much or too little of anything. It’s about both rest and activity, both resonance and dissonance, about commonality and diversity. When it comes to a life that is focused on beauty, I’m reminded of a documentary that I watched earlier this year. It’s about a Dolores Hart, who was a rising actress in the 1950s. She starred in roles opposite Elvis Presley and was nominated for Tony and Golden Globe awards. Hart had money, fame, and was engaged to a very successful architect. But her soul wasn’t nourished by this. The documentary, called God is the Bigger Elvis is the story of her leaving all of that behind to become a Benedictine nun in Connecticut where she still serves at the prioress of the abbey.
            What’s so interesting about this 37-minute documentary is that you can tell that HBO film crew that produced it was captivated by her – they were intrigued by her story, but also confused by it. Why would someone walk away from super-stardom? Her story is so compelling because it is so beautiful. It is the story of someone who found peace, fulfillment, and joy and because of that, she resonates beauty that is so much more than skin deep. What drew Hart to the abbey was a sense of beauty, of alignment and resonance with the God of love. Beauty beckons us to go deeper in faith, deeper in wonder, deeper in imagining what is possible.
            As Anglicans with the Incarnation at the bedrock of our theology, we recognize the importance of beauty because beauty aligns us with the goodness and love of God. Some have said that there’s really no such thing as a uniquely Anglican theology, rather we have an Anglican aesthetic. It is an aesthetic of beauty that trusts that God created us in the divine image, that claims that we are called good, that is grounded in love, and that calls us to repent of the Sin that distorts that image in which we all are made. Jesus lived a life a beauty – that doesn’t mean there wasn’t pain or suffering, but it was a life full of love, which is the most beautiful thing that there is. Jesus is love incarnate, so when we follow the path of Jesus, it is a path of beauty.
            So surround yourself with beauty. Take time to appreciate beauty. Let your imagination run wild. Know that in God’s eyes, you are beautiful. And when you encounter beauty in your life, say a prayer of thanksgiving to God, for in beauty you are seeing God’s fingerprints. O come, let us worship God in the beauty of holiness and pray that the whole earth be filled with God’s glory. Amen.