Antici.....pation.

I wonder what Christmas was like or is like in your house.

A lot of people have stories of waking up at early hours, way before their parents ever stirred. They lie there in their beds, waiting, watching, listening for the first sign that it’s OK to get out of bed…some of you have those kids, some of you were those kids.

I was one of those kids who would never wake up on-time for school, but come Christmas morning, when I *knew* that gifts were waiting for me under the tree, I would shoot out of bed, creep down the stairs and peer over the banister as far as possible so that I could see into the living room, and, perhaps, catch a glimpse of whatever might be under the tree.

I didn’t want to get caught. My parents insisted on getting down stairs first… but not for presents – they were headed toward coffee. The antici-pation grew stronger.

Ever so quietly I would creep further down the stairs… testing the boundaries further and further until they had their coffee, and then the maelstrom began.

But that was just the end of the long, long period of anticipation.

For the weeks leading up to Christmas, my parents and I engaged in a near- spy vs. spy level game.

Even now, I can’t stand to know that there is a surprise coming. So knowing that there were presents in the house was the worst, most excruciating torture for my child mind.

I was bad.

I used every trick in the book – seriously: from pressing the paper against the box to see through and read the label on the box, to prying and steaming the tape in hopes that I could peel it without it tearing the paper. My parents resorted to hiding the packages – mislabeling them – putting my sister’s name on some, the dog’s name on others – they’d leave them in the trunk of the car – take them to work and leave them in their office – and they even resorted to the ultimate thwarting, waiting until the last minute (at least that’s what they said).

For every one of my anxious and impatient attempts to find out what was under the tree, they had a counter move.

And this continued for years and years until I finally learned my lesson.

In my attempts to find out what was there for me, I ran across an unlabelled, wrapped box under the tree.

As I pressed the paper against the box, my favorite letters peered through – L – E – G – O.

I was so excited.

My favorite gift of all – those cool plastic lego building blocks. My mind wheeled with excitement – and I already had begun plans for what I would use them for, what I might build, how they might add to the giant Lego city already standing in my room.

But in my excitement I never expected that that box of Legos would actually be a gift that I had to give to someone at a Boy Scout Christmas Party only a few days later. I hadn’t even opened the gift, and yet I thought I knew who it belonged to, what it meant – in reality, I hadn’t understood that gift, I had not yet learned the whole point of giving and receiving gifts *or love* – and I certainly had not learned, yet, what it meant to wait patiently for anything.

The season of Advent is about that kind of waiting.

The kind of waiting where we pant with anticipation, where we long for, and where our very bones ache from being full of potential energy, where our minds race and reel with the possibilities, and where we hover somewhere between the unbearable anxiety of the unknown and the tantalizing near-quenched thirst of touching the fullness of God’s love.

Indeed, the people of Israel had waited for ages with this kind of longing. They had been promised the presence of God.

The prophet Isaiah said, “The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing” because “They shall see the glory of the LORD, the majesty of our God.”

Generation after generation they had been taught to look for the signs. The presence of God meant strength for weak hands, firmness to feeble knees.

Even more, “the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; … the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.”

Imagine being a young person in Israel; imagine hearing these words over and over again. Imagine the hope of every person around you being focused on this one thing: “everlasting joy” and “gladness”, and a world where “sorrow and sighing shall flee away.”

Into this world John the Baptist had come. We have already heard, in the first week of Advent about being watchful – staying alert and watching for the coming of God – and last week, the second week of Advent, we heard the voice of one crying out in the wilderness – and now, that voice, John the Baptist, has found himself in prison, contemplating this very thing.

There would be very little else to do while in prison waiting to die, besides sitting and wondering: Have I wasted my time? Have I worked for the right thing?

For John, that meant wondering whether or not the man, Jesus, was really the messiah – is he really the presence and gift of God in the world?

John the Baptist sent word to Jesus and asked, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”

It should be no surprise, then, that Jesus answers John’s question by directly quoting that same prophecy from Isaiah – “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear” – and even more than you were taught to expect, but “the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.”

No doubt John was caught between that unbearable anxiety of the unknown and the tantalizing near-quenched thirst of touching the fullness of God’s love – he had heralded the presence of the Son of God – he had exhorted the people to create a high way for the Lord – all things offered in the midst of the same verses of Isaiah that Jesus quotes, and in his longing and anxiety to know the answer, Jesus reminds him of the holiness of patiently waiting for all things to come to fruition.

“The blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.” – this is not the answer to John’s anxiety, it is not meant to relieve him of that on-the-edge-of-your-seat feeling of anticipation, or to somehow reveal the outcome of the events before their time. It was meant to do exactly the opposite.

A simple “yes, John, my cousin, my friend – I am the one who is to come” would have done all of those things – it would have revealed the answers, but it would have obscured the meaning of things. A clear and concise answer would have allowed John and others to go on with the answer to their questions – but it also would have allowed them to go on with their assumptions.

No – instead, Jesus gives John an answer that tells him to look around – to see and hear what has been going on, and to understand­ the meaning of the Gift of God’s presence. That the blind see, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them is happening all around John, and around others, should not only give proof to the presence of God, to the presence of his Son, but should also serve to provide understanding to what that Presence means.

It was a promise of restoration - “The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing”, and yet, in all of their anticipatory waiting, the people of Israel were more like me waiting for my Christmas gifts than they were like the farmer that Paul talks about, who waits for his precious crop from the earth with patience until it receives the early and the late rains.

No, they, like me, were imperfect at awaiting the precious gift. They were horribly imperfect and did everything that they could to bring about the presence of God before the right time – they pressed and steamed and ripped and tore at the edges of that gift until they ceased to understand what was inside.

When I went to my Boy Scout Christmas party and saw my friend opening up my present I was mortified – I threw a tantrum, red in the face, full of rage and yet full of so much misunderstanding.

My parents took me home. They sat me down and we finally had a talk about Christmas – about the giving and receiving of gifts, and even if the lesson didn’t stick in the front of my mind then, I understand it now: The gift was not the toy inside of the box, but in the effect that the gift has on the one giving and on the one receiving. The gift is not about the buying and wrapping, but in the thoughtfulness and love and relationship between the giver and the receiver.

Jesus told John to look around: The blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. The fact that he is the Son of God is not the point. The point is the effect of his presence on these people.

Jesus’ answer to John the Baptist pointed John away from Jesus – it isn’t about whether or not Jesus is or isn’t the Son of God – like I said, the gift had already been given, the presence of God was and is near – the point is not in finding out what or who the gift is – the point is in the thoughtfulness and love and relationship between the giver and the receiver.

As we contemplate the giving and receiving of gift in honor and celebration of the Incarnation, the birth of the Son of God – what is it that we are doing? In our preparations, how are we developing and cultivating thoughtfulness, love, and relationship – how are we enticing those around us to long for and pant after the presence of God?

Because of our love, “they shall see the glory of the LORD, the majesty of our God.”

May it ever be so.