A Credible Witness
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger Gaines-Cirelli at St. Matthew’s UMC December 11, 2011, the third Sunday of Advent.
Texts: Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11, 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24, John 1:6-8, 19-28
My freshman year in college, I performed in the chorus for West Side Story. Having enjoyed that experience, in the fall of my sophomore year, I took Acting I. It was more difficult than I thought it would be. To take words off a page and truly embody them in some way that doesn’t feel fake or forced is no easy proposition. And comedy? Forget it. If I ever got a laugh in any of my monologues, it was by sheer accident—like I would forget a line and accidentally find comedic timing for a brief, shining moment.
The thing I remember most vividly about my Acting I class was a collaboration between our class and the second-year directors. We each auditioned for the directors and then they cast us in scenes that they would direct for an actual performance on campus. My friend Tom ended up casting me (not his first choice, by the way) in the role of “Mama” in the dramatic, final scene of the 1983 play, “‘night, Mother.” I was barely 20 years old and was supposed to play the mother of a grown daughter, a daughter who was planning to take her own life. Neat.
What I learned in that collaborative process of working with someone who was there to direct is that the director can see how who the actor is and how the actor moves, speaks, reacts, and the rest affects the unfolding drama, how all those factors can be used to help the story emerge. The actor doesn’t have the benefit of stepping out of herself to observe how all the pieces come together. The actor’s role is to play her part and to do it as well as possible, with the guidance of the director.
The scene went well in performance—I can still remember certain moments very vividly—both in rehearsal and on the actual day. As a result, I was cast in some supporting roles in the next couple of musicals (the only shows I ever auditioned for). The difference between my experience with my friend Tom and my experience playing these other roles is that, with Tom, I was given attentive, thoughtful, creative direction. In the other roles, I received no direction whatsoever—as the director focused all his attention on the principal characters. I was on my own to try to figure out if what I was doing was working. I got through those productions, but knew in my heart of hearts that the words I’d taken off the page weren’t coming together in any credible way; the roles I’d been given weren’t contributing as much as they could to the overall story. But I didn’t know what else to do.
Today in our scriptures, we hear the voices of three prophets: Isaiah, Paul, and John. Each of these prophets had very particular roles to play in the unfolding drama of life in God’s world. God sent Isaiah “to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners…to comfort all who mourn.” (Is. 61.1-2) John was sent from God as a witness, “to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him.” (Jn. 1.7) And Paul’s role was to “proclaim the gospel of God” (1 Thess. 2.9) to all. What struck me as I prayed with these passages of scripture is that each of these human beings acted at different points in history and had different roles to play. Isaiah (or the “Third Isaiah” as scholars would identify him) spoke to a disappointed Israel upon their failure to rebuild Jerusalem and its temple to the glory they remembered. Isaiah could not have known that his words—years into the future—would be quoted by Jesus of Nazareth as his own “mission statement.” (Luke 4) John appears clear and confident in his role—to point to the One who is to come—but even he doesn’t fully see or understand the whole story—as is evidenced by his question later in the story about whether Jesus of Nazareth is the one he’d been looking for (Mt. 11.3, Lk. 7.19). And Paul’s role in the story, so dramatic in and of itself with his blinding conversion on the road to Damascus, his subsequent travels and proclamation of the good news of Jesus, and his ultimate martyrdom—Paul’s role was so significant—surely beyond anything he could have envisioned himself.
Each of these actors in the great drama of God’s love in history was a powerful witness to God. They didn’t just say the words in a way that was fake or for show. They embodied their faith, they lived it, and their witness made a difference in their lifetimes and continues to affect history’s unfolding—because you and I continue to study and learn from them.
So what does any of this have to do with Christmas or with the lives that you and I are living?
You and I may not see ourselves as significant in the unfolding drama of the history of the world. After all, we are not prophets are we? And this story of baby Jesus in Bethlehem happened in what might as well be another universe so very long ago. And the promise of the Christ returning sounds like something out of a science fiction movie—something far-fetched or at least so far in the future that our stories about it and the promises for peace and joy it offers just seem like a fairy tale or a figment of wishful thinking. Even though we’ve heard it so many times, it is really hard to believe that these stories really have anything to do with you and me. But here’s the thing: the Incarnation of God—the Christ coming into the world in flesh like yours and mine confirms that flesh like yours and mine is hallowed and holy, significant and beloved. The story of Christ’s return and of the full redemption of all God’s beloved creation confirms that our lives have a telos, a purpose, a goal: we share in the unfolding drama that is leading to that vision. The fact that this great drama is located not on some other planet or some imaginary world, but is set right here in the world that you and I inhabit, tells us that our own history is connected to God’s history. Even your life and even my life are important—in ways that we may never (and most likely never will) understand. Frederick Buechner puts it this way:
“God acts in history and in your and my brief histories not as the puppeteer who sets the scene and works the strings but rather as the great director who no matter what role fate casts us in conveys to us somehow from the wings, if we have our eyes, ears, hearts open and sometimes even if we don’t, how we can play those roles in a way to enrich and ennoble and hallow the whole vast drama of things including our own small but crucial parts in it.”#
That you and I have “crucial parts” in the “whole vast drama of things” and that God is the director—what a thought! God as the one who can see the whole drama unfolding, the one who sees what each one of us brings to the story—our histories, our gifts, our wounds, our weakness, our voices, our creativity, our strengths, our fears…God the director helps and guides us to play our given role fully and well. And if you are thinking that you don’t know what your role might be, then perhaps the thing to do is to ask God, to discern, to pray, to study, to listen. You might discover that you’re already playing it—and well! You might discover that some things need to change.
This holy season, we ponder the Word of God made flesh…once upon a time in the baby Jesus and once upon a future when Christ will fill all in all and will bring about the full realization of freedom, peace, justice, and joy that is prophesied. In this in-between time, the Word is given to each and every one of us and we are asked to “make it flesh”—incarnate—in our own lives. We are given this Word and asked to make it come to life, to speak it and live it in a way that isn’t fake or forced. IF you choose to accept your place in the story, if you choose to be in relationship with God and to share in God’s life, if you accept the role you are given in the drama, then you are given the Word and all you have to do is to embody it as only you can, to open yourself fully to the love of Christ so that it fills you up, so that you can play your role in the drama of God’s saving grace in a way that advances the story, that makes a positive difference, that engenders hope.
A few weeks ago, I introduced you to Jean Vanier, a Catholic philosopher and the founder of L’Arche, communities where men and women with mental disabilities and their assistants create a home for one another. Vanier says, “People in our world find hope when they find credible witnesses, men and women with a living faith, bearing witness to the presence of God—more by their lives, their growing compassion and their dynamic love than by their ideas or their words. Jesus said that people will know his disciples by the love they have for one another.”#
In this Advent season, you are I are reminded that the Word has been spoken and broken open and given to you and to me. We are to accept our place in God’s unfolding story and to make room in our lives for that Word to truly come alive in new ways, to fill each one of us so that we can be credible witnesses to God’s love. Part of the good news is that we aren’t on our own to try to sort out how to bring this Word to life—we have been given the witness of the faithful prophets and teachers through the ages AND we have a patient, attentive, and loving director God who doesn’t leave us alone to try to figure out stuff on our own. Our God sees the whole story unfolding, knows the roles that only you and I can play, sees the significance of each one of our lives, and is always working to draw us out, to draw us closer to the promise, to help us truly be the persons we are created to be. Each one of us is part of this amazing, unfolding drama of God’s love and peace in the world. You may not see it, but God does. It is the role of a lifetime.
