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Advent is derived from the Latin word “adventus” and means “coming” – expectation, the unknown but to be known. A time when it is dark for us in the  northern hemisphere, both when we rise in the morning and when we return home in the evening. But there is light in between. Perhaps light more glorious  for being surrounded – for being bracketed- by the dark. When it is hard to see and especially so as we venture into winter with rain and fog and  snow and the white lines telling us which lane we are in while we are driving becomes harder to see our way. And our anxiety increases because we are not  certain – maybe just a little bit- about where we are going and whether we will get there safely.  The light becomes more important on especially cold days.  We tell ourselves it must be warm outside because the sky is blue and the sun is shining. And  then we step outside and it’s not. And we’re disappointed and  perhaps feel the cold all the more for being unexpected.

Seasonal affective disorder, or SAD, is a condition that generally affects people who live in climates where the winters are long and dark and dreary. One of  the recommended therapies for people suffering from SAD is to take walks outside in the sunlight. The Psalmist calls for God to show the light of God’s  countenance (Ps. 80: 7, 18). The writer of the Collect asks God to give us grace to “put on the armor of light.” Jesus tells his disciples that the time will come  when “the sun will be darkened and the moon will not give its light and the stars will be falling from heaven” (Mark 13: 24-25). Advent and light – the  coming events are to be made known to an expectant people. Earlier this morning we lit the first candle on the Advent Wreath. An outward and visible  symbol of an inward and spiritual grace. A hope and a prayer of our looking forward with anticipation to the birth of a holy child foretold by the prophets  who will bring peace, hope and justice to the world. The holy child who comes that we might have life and light.

This morning in the Adult Forum we began our discussion of Brent Bill’s book Sacred Compass.[1] His premise is that we each have a sacred compass-  something within ourselves that helps point us towards God. Towards the mystery and the awe that is part of our relationship with God. And, if we listen  with our ears and our eyes and our hearts as well as our intellect, we will know when what we are doing is in accord with what God is calling us to be and to  do. And perhaps the most sacred within us is learning throughout our life who we are called to be in concrete terms.

Included is a story of the Jewish rabbi Zusya who said: “In the world to come I shall not be asked: ‘Why were you not Moses?’ I shall be asked: ‘Why were  you not Zusya?” Bill uses this story to suggest that the question we must ask ourselves, using the sacred compass is “What does it mean to be me?” In the  context of interim ministry, the question for St. Andrew’s is “what does it mean to be us” – would anyone miss this place if it wasn’t here? The answer, I  believe, is clearly “yes.” As the Finance Committee and the Vestry prepare a budget to present to the Diocese, they can answer “yes, the people of St. Andrew’s have stepped up to the plate, during this time of expectation to say we want a rector and we want a full time rector and we’re willing to do our
part to make that happen.” (More about that at a later time.)  This time of Advent is a time for us to reflect on who we are- what is the story of this place and  it’s witness to Jesus? Telling our stories is part of what we will be doing in the upcoming months as the Search Committee is formed and the Parish  Profile is written. Telling our stories will help us answer the question: “Is there Life in this place?” with a capital “L” life. The answer is a resounding “yes.”   This place and the work and worship done here is a special witness to what is possible through people, liturgy, music and service when the love of God  permeates us all and is our sacred compass.

Are we done yet? No, of course we are not. We are pilgrims on the way. William Faulkner said that one can distinguish between a monument and a pilgrim’s
footprints. Faulkner wrote that “a monument only says ‘at least I got this far’ while a footprint says ‘this is where I was when I moved again.”[2] Bill says it  is important for us to keep in mind that we who believe in God- who believe God calls us into relationship- are pilgrims and not tourists. That we are  spending our lives – sometimes in ways similar to others we know and other times in quite different ways- finding our way to God. Yes, we have come this  far- but we are not done yet. We are just entering advent- our time of reflection as well as expectation and hope.  As we enter into this season of Advent, it is  a wonderful time to reflect. To reflect on who and whose we are. To reflect on where we hear God’s voice and urgings in our life. To discern the way  forward.

Jesus calls upon the disciples to “keep awake.” And, to “keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come” (Mk. 13:33-35). In times past, Advent was  a season much like Lent when penitence and fasting were the focus. The intent was to visually reference the birth and the suffering and death of Jesus by
connecting those two liturgical seasons. Birth and death inextricably intertwined. The color purple used in liturgical hangings symbolized the role of Jesus  as king – as royalty and ruler of us all. Today, in many churches, the shift in the color of the liturgical hangings echoes the shift in focus. Advent is now seen  more as a time of expectation and hope. The shade of blue used may vary from royal blue repeating the theme of Jesus as royalty and king over us all to sky  blue symbolizing hope of new and eternal life through belief in Jesus as Messiah. Regardless of which color is used for the altar and lectern hangings, we are  reminded that birth and death do not occur without each other. In every birth there is a death and death brings with it new beginnings. Not without  pain or fear or uncertainty in many cases. Isaiah the prophet reminds us this morning that we are the clay and God is the potter (Is. 64: 8). God meets those  who gladly do right and those who remember God in God’s ways (Is. 64:5). But just as the potter has the ability to form something of beauty from the  clay, the potter can also decide to cast down what he has begun to create when the clay resists. The best result is when the clay “listens” to the potter  and is brought up and outward through the potter’s skilled hands shaping and smoothing a lump of mud into a thing of beauty.  Fragile but strong. And  even if the pot breaks, the fragments may become part of a new piece as the potter patiently shapes and molds and dreams for the pot of what it might be.

A compass is an old-fashioned way of finding your direction. It is not always 100% perfect as it has to be calibrated to “true north” vs. “magnetic north.” The  needle may wiggle and the lines may be small causing us to squint as we seek to determine if it’s 300 Degrees or 310 Degrees. Unlike the most sophisticated and expensive GPS systems, there is room for error with a compass. We still have room for mystery and for the unfolding of a future that is  hoped for but not quite known. Like the slaves left behind when the master goes on a journey, we do not known the time of the return. We do not know all
the details. We know enough, however, to rest in the faithfulness of God. As Doris Akers wrote:

There’s a sweet, sweet spirit in this place; And I know it’s the spirit of the Lord. There are sweet expressions on each face and I know that it’s the presence of the Lord.[3] The presence of the Lord informs our sacred compass when we are willing to step out into expectation and hope. As we walk through this  season of Advent, keep in mind another word with a similar root: “Adventure.” Be a pilgrim whose footsteps are seen not as an end but rather as a resting  place before moving on to find what God has in store for you. We give thanks this weekend. For all that is past, For all that is, For all that is yet to be, We
give you thanks, O Lord our God. Amen.