St. Mary's Episcopal Church

Holy Name 2006 (Luke 2:15-21)

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us." So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them. After eight days had passed, it was time to circumcise the child; and he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb.

Just about 19 years ago, I was headed down I-91 toward New Haven from my job in Hartford. It wasn't my usual route, but I had an errand to run on the way home. At one point, I noticed a car in the grass median strip. That's an odd place for the troopers to hide, I thought, figuring there was a radar gun pointed my way. But I was wrong - this car was moving, literally flying across the median, and in seconds, I realized it was headed straight for me.

We hit - nearly head on with a force that pushed the cars apart and mine into a stop, netted by the pilings and cables that bounded the road.

For a few moments, I just sat. I slowly wiggled the fingers of one hand. It worked. "I'm not dead," I thought, wiggling the other hand. Turn off the current in case the gas is leaking. Remembering the ingrained lessons of driver's ed, I reached forward and turned off the ignition. I tried each leg - shoulders - then just sat for a while longer - - - until I finally clicked the release on my seatbelt, pushed open the warped door, and got out and walked away.

Have you ever had moments like that? Sometimes it seems that time just stands still - something has happened - something has changed - and for that space in time, we just sit still and wait.

There are spaces in time during these days after Christmas - the gifts are opened - the leftovers are eaten - the guests gone home - and it's quiet.

There are those precious few minutes before our church service starts - when we can sit in the pew and just stop - stop and let the week pass through - stop and be grateful for the time to stop - or just plain stop and sit.

Today's gospel reading reminds me of the times with my own babies - months of anticipation - the excitement of birth - then home from the hospital - the proud family visited and gone - and it's quiet as we sit and look in the face of the little one.

I think Mary had times like that - young, obedient, brave Mary - What a year she'd had - there were talking angels - and a promise that somehow there would be a baby - somehow - and not just any baby, but the son of God! What would Joseph do? And her own mother? But the angel touched them all and on a cold, hard night with more angels and light and singing and shepherds, that child came, looking for all the world quite like all the other infants Mary'd seen in her young years. By the end of that night, there must have been at least as much excitement as a cold, tired, little mama could stand.

As the skies quieted, and dawn washed away even that bright star, I wonder if Mary didn't stop, too - Rubbing her cheek along the fuzz of baby hair, perhaps she tentatively reached out a finger and slides it into a tiny grasp. We made it - we're alive baby, she may have thought. In that barn, Mary would have smelled the scent of his fresh new life - smelled the hay - traces of the few animals still in the stable - maybe seen Joseph, exhausted and sleeping, curled on the hay by her side.

And so time stood still for Mary too in those moments as the songs and words and expectations of the days and months just passed wove themselves through her mind. Luke tells us that Mary treasured all the words she had heard and pondered them in her heart. For like us, when the singing and brightness stopped, the quiet began. And like us, when the quiet begins, the dusts of the days can settle to bring more clarity for tomorrow.

These times of quiet are so necessary for our hearts and minds. They give us time to really think about what has happened - about changes - about what our activities mean in our lives. Like Mary, it is good when we can ponder these things in our hearts.

These times are also times for listening - hearing what the Holy Spirit would have us do next - Listening for resolution of the loose ends of life in our hearts - for joy, for gratitude - for forgiveness - and for realizing our safety in giving it all to the Father.

And sometimes there is not resolution - but perhaps just a calm within a storm - sometimes a rest. These are times, too, to listen, for as long or short a time as we get. Sometimes we don't notice the time at all and it gets away before we realize its gift.

Mary's quiet, like most of ours, didn't last all that long. Luke tells us that after the shouting and the shepherds, eight days passed and they took the baby to be circumcised. This is the Jewish custom, and circumcision remains the mark of belonging to the people of the Jewish community since Abraham's time. He was also named - Jesus - following the directions of the angel who'd announced his coming to Mary. These were good parents - listening to God's way, and following what they knew to do in a situation they could neither predict nor control. I mean - exactly what do you do when you find yourself raising God's only son?

I get some great blocks of time out of time these days. Almost every week I drive to Austin and back. I live north of here, so my ride is across 1488, past the Camp Allen road, and on to 290. It's about three hours each way - a thought that normally elicits sympathetic comments at best when folks first consider it. But I've found this trip a peaceful and important part of my week. It's a time to ponder. A time to watch. A time to pray. Some days, the sky brightens behind me as the sun rises. On others, I watch the sky darken and the light across the fields change as it sets. I've watched shooting stars and the calves grow up and even a zebra coming across a field.

I remember my first trip on this road - It was in early April and I called it Oz - one field was bright yellow - the next was red - then there was a mixed field / blue / yellow / orange - and as I went toward the hills, it all changed to silver and pale green. And nearly two years later this ride still gives me the space out of time I need to think / or not think / to pray / it's a time to listen / to ponder.

Sometimes in the silence, we get answers. Directions become clearer and a jumble of activities can make more sense. But at other times, it's just quiet - time to ponder - time to rest. Like Mary, in the midst of the uncertain, in the midst of the unknown, we can simply stop to listen. Without answers, we continue to walk in the path we were taught. We baptize our children, we stay in our community, we hold each other up with the strength of our shared silences. We trust and we wait.

A couple of weeks ago, I got so busy and rushed, I made my trip from Austin and forgot about the time. I paid for that - without the time, life made less sense and made me even more tired. I will not forget to take the time again - the price is too high. We need to be conscious of the moments we can take and we need not just permission to take them, but to know that these moments aside are essential to our spirits - our hearts - our lives.

In a few minutes, Beth will talk more about our time, and bless our time for this coming year. And this coming time is all we have. For while we can think about the years past, they are just that -happenings that formed us / events that changed us - events to learn from. Yet each new day gives us choices - for while we can not change the past year, we can use our time to let God work in our reactions to each new day. And as we walk through each day of this new year, let's look for the spaces, the times between times - the times of silence so that like Mary, we can treasure the words of each day as we ponder them in our hearts.

May God hold our times in his hands as we walk through this year that is coming. Amen