Third Sunday in Advent

Amos 9:11-15; 2 Thess. 2:1-3,13-17; John 5:30-47

John the Baptist “was a burning and shining lamp” (John 5:35).  The Christian monastic tradition has seen John as its ancestor, and the Episcopal Church recognizes this in its prayer for monastics: “O God, by whose grace your servant ______, kindled with the flame of your love, became a burning and a shining light in your Church: Grant that we also may be aflame with the spirit of love and discipline, and walk before you as children of light . . .”  

I love this prayer.  I want to be on fire with this spirit, and I want others to feel it too.  And I know that this flame doesn’t always burn evenly.  Jesus tells the crowd that they “were willing to rejoice for a while in [John’s] light,” but we know that John died and the crowds moved on.  When John was imprisoned, likely most of those who enjoyed hearing him just went home.  His flame diminished, and some might have thought it was extinguished.  But that flame never dies.

In A Whispered Name, a novel by William Brodrick, a visitor asks a monk what it is that they do in the monastery.  The monk replies, “We tend a fire that never goes out.”  That, indeed, is what we do here as Companions.  It’s what we do as Christians, as people of faith.  And as we tend the fire, we are invited to become the fire, to be aflame.

As we draw toward the longest night of the year, may you draw near to the fire, and become a burning and a shining light.  May you give warmth and light to all who see you.  May you singe the sins that cling to you, and let their ash blow away.  May you endure, and rejoice - not only for a while, but forever.