Sermon: Creature Comforts Rev. Lynn James, LMHC 12.7.08 Isaiah 40:1-11 and Mark 1:1-8 Why is it, that when my dog puts her head against my knee and lifts her paw to bat my hand, and I begin to rub her ears, that I feel better? Why is it that when a cat curls up on our laps and we feel the warmth of their body heat and hear the low rumble of purring begin, the eyes start to close as the tail goes from twitching to stillness, that we find ourselves letting out a sigh, breathing more deeply as the twitching in us stills as well? How is it that when the softness of a baby s head, nestles into that space where our neck connects to our cheek, and their crying stops and their bodies relax into the beating of our hearts, the pulsing of our life rocking them lightly skin to skin, that we too are calmed and comforted? How is it that when we make a meal for someone else we feel less empty inside, less hungry ourselves? Comfort, comfort oh my people. Prepare the way of the Lord; made straight the paths Today s themes are of comfort and repentance; Isaiah reassuring that the worst is over and John announcing that the end is near. Isaiah s message is gentle and soothing; John s is loud and wild. Isaiah says to the people that they have suffered enough and that they have succeeded in changing their lives and more than paid for their misdeeds; John commands people to repent and to turn their lives around. Isaiah says the time has come to be released from amendsmaking; John says the time has come to begin making those amends, transforming our lives in readiness to meet the Messiah. Isaiah consoles; John confronts. Put them together and we have a powerful Advent message that can heal our lives. What is the first thing that comes into your mind when you hear the word comfort?
Perhaps it is a soft mattress, covered with a luxurious down comforter, or a soft blanket with satin around the edges, pillows piled high, a stack of books on the night stand or perhaps the bed is facing a wide screen tv and the remote is in your hand. I invite you to open the small envelope in your bulletin. As always, it is absolutely fine to participate or to not participate as you feel comfortable. There should be a soft piece of fleece in the envelope along with some other items. As you hold this fabric in your hands, I invite you, if it is emotionally safe for you to do so, to recall your first experiences of comfort, or picture for a moment a child in footed pajamas and clutching a tattered but soft blanket, sleeping with an arm around a special stuffed animal, twirling a strand of hair in sleepiness, rubbing their face in the fur of a pet. Wherever there is comfort, there is the Presence of God. We accept the need for comfort more easily in children, but it is true from pink smooth skin of babies to the beautifully etched laugh lines of great grandparents. We all need comfort; all creatures need comfort, physical bodily comfort. We are creatures, and like the incarnate Christ, we are incarnated; our spirits housed by skin covered with sensors that yearn for the right temperature, soothing textures and touches, muscles that are vulnerable to tension and over-stretching and that yearn for relaxation that goes tissue deep. When we withhold from our bodies comfort and healthy pleasures, including rest and relaxation, we are at greater risk of spiritual crisis. Some preach that morality grows from being tough on our physical needs, denying we have them. Many of us mistakenly assume that pushing through sleep deprivation is an ethical achievement, that tolerating discomfort, ignoring the signals of the body is a moral exercise. But suffering is only a moral good if it has a purpose beyond itself, if it is a necessity in order to achieve a purpose of God that cannot be achieved without the sacrifice of suffering. And even then, in every way possible, seeking comfort must accompany the enduring of the discomfort.
This is the promise of baptism: that we are immersed in the very Presence of God, and therefore there is nothing we can experience that God does not experience with us. There should be a dove sticker in your envelope. The dove is a symbol of the Holy Spirit, which descended on Jesus when John baptized him in the River Jordan. Next week is going to be a very special worship service as we celebrate the baptism of Alesha Rubeck. It is wonderful timing scripturally as John the Baptist marches us toward Jesus own baptism where he receives the Spirit s blessing for him. My prayer for Alesha is that as she joins Christ this week, in the journey toward the waters of baptism, she feels not only the message of repentance but the promise of comfort and the awareness of the Spirit s blessings upon her life. There should also be a band-aid in your envelope. This represents our responsibility to tend to our own wounds and the wounds of others. It is a camouflage pattern not only because so many of you are hunters, but to symbolize that we tend to camouflage our pain, hide our hurts. The call of John is truly a call to healing, echoing for all of us that we must always be working on the direction of our lives, straightening the crooked places within us, including those marks left by the sinful, selfish actions of others, tending to our wounds so that we are recovered enough for Christ to use us. The reassurance of Isaiah is that as we do the hard work of being healers, both for ourselves, our communities, our environment, and our world, we will experience most fully the Presence of God and the deep comfort that accompanies this. Now, in your envelope you will find a piece of fair trade chocolate (I also have diabetic sugar free in each pew). Perhaps comfort for you is the first taste of chocolate on the tip of your tongue, the sugar soaking into your taste buds and the flavor of the cocoa spreading toward the back of your mouth. Some of us may recall the taste of hot chocolate after playing in the snow when we were children, or the special birthday cake your grandmother used to make, or the
anticipation of un-wrapping the chocolate bar you pulled from the toe of your Christmas stocking. It is not only okay to treat ourselves to special foods, but it is important to really focus on them when we do. Over-eating at the holidays is NOT from a lack of discipline, but a lack of comfort and self care. It is not a triumph of the evil body over the spirit s will, but a consequence of ignoring what the body and the spirit both need. Instead of listening to ourselves, our bodies, we just throw junk at it, substituting a binge for what would really fill up the emptiness. Instead of satisfaction we end up feeling worse. When you pick up a Christmas treat, slow down, pay attention to it, savor its smell, the memories of past holidays it evokes, taste it slowly, roll it around in your mouth, notice the layers of flavor, the texture on your tongue, and tell yourself that this pleasure is good, and requires no shame, no guilt, no remorse. Then, ask yourself, what else you need that is NOT food; what is your emptiness craving? Are you lonely, angry, frustrated, worried, sad? What would happen if you just let yourself feel bad for a moment? Resist the urge to fix it, to numb it, to drown it in distraction. Sit with it and let it be. Then ask yourself, what do you need to truly be comforted? And then seek that. The next item in your envelope is a piece of paper. I invite you to fill it on one side with a list of activities that fill you up, give you energy or comfort: a hot bath with the lights off and candles burning, a walk in the woods, reading a good book, learning something you ve always wanted to know (sometimes what is craving nourishment is our brains!), building something, crafting something, trying a new recipe the list is endless! Then, on the other side, I invite you to write the names, phone numbers, or e-mail addresses of people who fill you up, make you smile, give you energy. Comfort is a friend s hug, a supportive hand on the shoulder, a loved one s eye contact that lets you know you that
they know, they are with you, they share your pain, and you are not alone. I think Jesus was sort of like God s eye contact with humanity, intimate eye contact from the one who knows you best but loves you anyway. We need others who lift us up, and we need to be that someone who lifts others up. Instead of just reaching out to get comfort, we need to reach out to offer comfort. What will you do this week to comfort your spouse, your child, your friend, yourself? Here is where John and Isaiah come together for me. Have you ever had a friend try to make you feel better by telling you something that isn t true, a little white lie to protect your feelings, reassuring you that it wasn t so bad when really, it was? It is not really that comforting is it? I mean, when we are vulnerable, we don t want harshness or even just neutrality; we want comfort and support, but embedded in truth. We want honesty but delivered with kindness and care. We want to know that our friends are not afraid of the truth, but that they also have something to tell us that will help us bear the truth. Perhaps they will say: Me too or remind us of what did go well or what strengths we do have. One of the most comforting things I was ever told, is that all human beings make mistakes, fail, flop, strike out, put their foot in their mouth. Even good singers sometimes hit the wrong note. Even award-winning actors and play-writers sometimes invest themselves in a box office bomb. Even record holding basket ball players miss the hoop, the best batting averages are far from perfect, and we are surrounded by people who are successful in their lives AFTER failing, falling, making fools of themselves, but not stopping there. Comfort is when someone says, Yes, it sounds like that didn t go so well then asks, So, what are you going to do next? assuming that life always offers opportunities for extra credit because the grade is not assigned until the course is over! If you are alive, the semester is not completed! Comfort is knowing that it is not a failure if you learned something, if it helps
you move forward, if you use it to make the future better. Comfort is knowing that our worst mistakes don t have to end there. We have a right to have a learning curve, a practice period, a pattern of repeated frustrating attempts which do not result in a positive outcome-which fail. Repeated failure is the only path to success that I know of. It is only failure if we deny that it is failure and therefore learn nothing from it. It is only failure if we cover it up in denial and comfort ourselves by insisting it is not failure, that it is fine. There is comfort in knowing what is NOT fine so we can fix it; there is deeper comfort in allowing ourselves to feel the pain, to feel the discomfort, than there is in avoiding it. There is comfort in claiming those things we need to repent from and improve upon and then making the apologies and amends and moving on with a straightened road free of those barriers, and perhaps, filled with repaired relationships. It is a bit paradoxical isn t it: that true comfort is allowing ourselves to know the pain? True comfort is the admitting that something isn t working and then committing ourselves to being uncomfortable while we look it over and try to figure out how to make it right. The opposite of comfort is not pain; the opposite of comfort is denial, false comfort, and avoidance. Perhaps that is the message that John the Baptist brings to us. Calling us to repentance and then announcing that the One who is with us will not only show us how to do it, but help us accomplish the work! This is the same philosophy that positive parenting holds. Kids don t want to be told lies in an effort to bolster their self esteem; they want the chance to accomplish goals; this naturally leads to feeling proud. People don t need handouts or bailouts or charity; they need opportunities to succeed for themselves, a fair chance to earn good feelings, and to create their own integrity and mastery. People must be given the chance to tear down their own obstacles
and overcome their own barriers. The problem is, the powerful too often demand that the oppressed bear their burdens too, putting their obstacles, that are their responsibility in the path of the powerless, and then condemning them for giving up, for being angry, for being weak. That is the political challenge Jesus brought to his time and to ours. It is wrong to expect others to sacrifice for our excesses, for others to suffer because we refuse to share, for others to have a harder time so that we can have an easier time, for others to find that we have placed our barriers on their paths, so ours is clear. Repent. Repent. Make way for the King who brings justice. As we hold these symbols of comfort, may we be mindful of God s desire to comfort us, to seek us like a shepherd when we are lost lambs. Hold these and hear Isaiah s promise that when we are too tired to take another step, God will carry us. When we are most alone, God will send angels in human form who will sit with us as we regain our strength, feed our bodies and our souls, and chase away predators who prey on weakness. We take turns, you and I, being angels and lambs, often in the same moment. Ironically, it is when we pray for wings in order to help someone else that we find ourselves carried and comforted. Hold these symbols of comfort and let us take a moment to offer our prayers for those who are living without comfort, who are suffering in body, in mind, in spirit, for children who cry and no-one comes. Advent is their time of waiting; Isaiah assures us that their comfort and ours is coming, John calls us to be that comfort not just for their sake, but for ours. Amen. (copyright 2008, Lynn James, all rights reserved)