Fourth Sunday Advent

Fourth Sunday Advent
December 18, 2005

"...Here I am living in a house of cedar, while the ark of God dwells in a tent!... I will fix a place for my people Israel..." (2 Samuel 7). "...you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus." (Luke 1:26-38)

The passage from Samuel expresses our ambivalence about where the Most High should and does live. David had a magnificent palace built for himself in Jerusalem, while God continues to dwell in a tent until his son Solomon built the Temple. His holy people eventually came to regard the Temple as God's new sacred dwelling place. But the people's heart remained attached also to the ancient tradition of Yahweh moving about with them as they traveled from place to place, living among them in a tent like their own, rather than above them.

This can serve to remind us of our own ambivalence about where God lives. We build our churches and, if we are not careful, begin to think that they are the only place where God is found. They certainly become sacred places because God and God's people meet there. Nevertheless we can become so attached to these buildings that we may forget that the true dwelling place of God is in the hearts of people of faith, wherever we gather in the faith, hope and love.

Gabriel, the messenger from the Most High, reveals that the Messiah descended from David, will live in the womb of Mary deepening the tradition of God living among us in an even more intimate way. Not only humans being given divine life, but, unbelievably, God experiencing being human. The son of God becomes one of us, living in our bodies and our communities wherever faith, hope and love are alive and well. These are fragile homes, made lasting by the Holy Spirit. In God we live now, in God we die, in God we live forever.

I have been reminded of this over the past week, as two very special people with "terminal" illness look ahead to the final moment of this life. My friend Steve White died after 10 years with ALS, in the presence of his wife Janice and his family. Steve and Janice have been a model for many of us, teaching us how to survive and thrive with this disease. They invited us to their home while I was still walking around to see what they had done to accommodate to Steve's paralysis. Now we do the same for other couples just beginning to assimilate what is and will be happening in their lives, changed by this disease. His work on our behalf, especially the Portland Chapter of ALSA and the ALS Clinic at Providence Hospital, will continue to live in our hearts and bodies. I often communicated with Steve, seeking his advice about the next step of adaptation to changes brought about by our disease. He was not inclined to get all misty eyed about this serious business but he had a great sense of humor. I will miss him, not only for his practical advice, but for his courageous spirit.