Arrival 

The Rev. Ron Sala

Unitarian Universalist Society in Stamford

December 8, 2002 

 

 

I think that religious education for the young is a wonderful thing. But, unfortunately, many of us received just enough religious training as kids to MESS US UP FOR LIFE!

Take my own story for an example. It was back during a difficult time of my life, well, really a difficult time in everyone’s life—junior high. I was raised in a very religious family, and I took a sincere interest in what preachers had to say. Not just at church, but however I could hear them. For instance, every night, I’d slip under the covers, and very quietly, so no one else could hear, I’d turn on WBYO, the hometown radio station of Boyertown, PA. The program I never missed was The Southwest Radio Church, featuring Dr. George Webber. The purpose of the Southwest Radio Church was to disseminate the “gospel truth,” which also happened to be the name of their newsletter. Now Dr. Webber wasn’t your typical accept-Jesus-and-send-in-a-check media preacher. Sure, there was that, but what put the Southwest Radio Church on the map among fans of High Weirdness everywhere were the theories. Did you know that ET, the supposedly friendly extraterrestrial was based on a demon in a medieval manuscript? that the exact time of the return of Christ could be determined from the dimensions of the Great Pyramid? and that New Agers are secretly plotting to form a one-world government for the Antichrist? Amazing, but true, Dr. Webber assured me—and I believed every word.

Not till a couple years later, when I was told that the moon landing was prophesied in the Old Testament and Jesus opposed gun control, would I finally break with Dr. Webber’s teaching.

How did I fall under this spell? Dr. Webber espoused the same philosophy as many at the Mennonite church where I was raised did, namely that every word of the Bible is literally true, the holy, inspired Word of God. I now realize that Dr. Webber put a good deal more imagination into this creed than most of my church did, for better or worse. Like a horror movie that scared you as a kid but only makes you laugh as an adult, I look back on those Southwest Radio Church days with humor and realize that I’m older, and, hopefully, a bit wiser. I thought I’d arrived at Truth—but found I’m still arriving.

The title of my sermon this morning is “Arrival.” According to the Christian calendar, this is the second Sunday of Advent. The word “advent” comes from the Latin adventus, meaning “arrival.” The Advent season is the four Sundays before Christmas. Each Sunday is commemorated by the lighting of a candle on an Advent wreath. On the first Sunday is lit one purple candle, on the second Sunday, two purple candles, on the third Sunday, two purple candles and a rose candle, and on the fourth Sunday, all four colored candles. A white candle, the Christ candle, is lit on Christmas eve or Christmas day. Purple is the color of advent, the same as lent, because it’s a traditional fast. No meat, cheese, or alcohol was to be consumed until the third Sunday when the rose candle, otherwise known as the “joy” candle was lit, which meant, “Let’s eat!”

This is part of the system of symbols we call Advent. One thing I’ve learned in my post-Southwest Radio Church days is that religious symbols are trickier things than the garden-variety symbols we encounter every day. Take traffic lights, for example. We’ve come to accept that red means stop, green means go, and yellow means caution. There’s a one-to-one correspondence between symbol and meaning. Even here, though, some drivers seem to interpret the lights as red means stop, green means go, yellow means go-very-fast!

When it comes to religious symbols, though, one symbol can have many meanings or many symbols can have similar meanings. For instance, let’s look again at the Advent wreath. One meaning is that it may have been a visual aid to illiterate peasants on when to fast and when to feast. Another is that it’s constructed of evergreen, representing eternity. Another is that it’s in the form of a circle, representing the cycle of the year. Another is that the increasing candle-power each Sunday represents the increasing light that will come with the solstice. Another is that we’re counting down to the birthday of an important historical figure, Jesus, who’s become a symbol, or even a set of symbols, himself. Or could it be that the candles stand for the light of truth prevailing against the darkness of ignorance? Or that their circle represents our own community gathering together for light and warmth, physically, emotionally, and spiritually?

Often, people ask us, as Unitarian Universalists, what the flaming chalice stands for. Here’s what I might say: It stands for many things: the chalice is of one piece, like the unity of human experience, the unity of the Divine, or our goal of universal community. It is wide open, as we strive to be, both in mind and heart. The flame brings us light and warmth as we want to bring them to the world. It reminds us of the campfire, an ancient human meeting place. It reminds us of those who have lost their lives in the cause of our faith, like Servetus, who perished in the flames. It’s all these things—and many more.

The real beauty of a symbol is this multi-faceted nature. Scholars tell us that a text has a “surplus of meaning.” This means that we can keep coming back to it and keep getting something new. Symbols are the same. You think you’ve arrived at their fullness, but you’re still arriving.

I’m reminded of people who stop going to services. Sometimes, I feel like asking them, “What? You’ve graduated? You’ve figured it all out? Well then, stay, and tell the rest of us. . . . Aren’t we all arriving?

We humans are meaning-making creatures. We continually create, dispose of, or modify our meaning systems, our symbols, to meet our needs. December is a living museum of symbols. As far as the eye can see, there are symbols from every time and region.

Last week, we recognized Hanukkah. Like the Advent wreath, the Hanukkah Menorah has a long history of meaning making. It symbolizes the victory over persecution so long ago, even till today, and the continuing miracle of life. It is also a way of brightening the bleakest days of the year.

The Pagan tradition of the Yule log, likewise, uses the theme of light in the midst of darkness as we await the return of the sun.

Kwanzaa is a more recent light-themed holiday, celebrating community values and togetherness, especially among African Americans.

But, of course, we don’t have to wait for a national or international tradition. We can start our own. Here at this Society, next week, we will decorate our tree with mittens to be donated to a homeless shelter. We adapt the tradition of decorating the tree to serve a prime meaning of the season: giving.

Many families have their own symbolic ways of celebrating. I once heard a lecture by Dr. Rich Snell, a professor at the State University of New York at Plattsburgh, up near the Canadian border. The professor talked about the rustic holiday seasons he and his wife would spend with their kids in the little cabin they once lived in. There was no Santa Claus in their kids’ lives. Instead, a certain magical bear would come from up north and deliver presents. Kids at school might tell them there’s no Santa, but they knew their bear was real….

One of the Christmas traditions at my grandparents’ house is a birthday cake for Jesus. The youngest child is asked two questions: Whose birthday is it? They always answer, “Jesus.” Next, “What are the three candles on the cake for?” They always answer, quite reasonably, I think, “For the three wise men.” That’s what I said when I was the youngest. They’re then told that it actually stands for the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. (Most of my extended family is Mennonite). This corresponds with my pet theory that children are born Unitarian until some are sadly corrupted by their elders….

Personally, the journey of the three wise men are a meaning I’d prefer to see in the symbol. I also see, more importantly, the cake as standing for our common bond as a family. Our grandmother bakes it, and we come back year after year and partake of it—and each other’s company.

Sometimes the family thing works, sometimes it doesn’t. I don’t need to tell that to anyone here. There are more joys and disappointments in family life, perhaps, than in anything else. Sometimes, we wish our families had arrived, but we find that they’re still arriving. Let’s take hope in that.

Even when we morn the loss of loved ones, which always seems hardest at the holidays, we can see more and more how their lives made ours what they are now and will continue to be. This also is still arriving.

Every year, my mother hangs up an Advent calendar. It’s made of cardboard with a Christmas scene on it with lots of glitter. Each day as a child, I would open one more window, which would reveal a verse of the Bible or a picture. The Advent calendar is a beautiful symbol of the paradox of this season. We are waiting for the arrival of the holidays, with all the personal meaning they have for us. Yet at the same time, there are surprises and treasures along the way. In fact, each day is a window that opens on the unexpected. All we have to do is stop to open it. We can arrive a bit each day in the midst of our arrival.

There is so much rushing this time of year, and the advertisers urge us to rush all the more. But let’s try not to miss the season in our rushing for it. Only keep up those traditions most meaningful to you and your loved ones. Just spending time with others is the best gift you can give.

Take time to consider what a crazy, wonderful season it is, where otherwise sane and rational human beings dress up in a beard and red suit for children, where corporate offices stop to pass around cookies, and where peace and love are on everyone’s lips.

I think of the stable the legend tells us Jesus was born in. Stables in ancient Palestine were very often caves. For many years, I’ve explored wild caves in my spare time, yet I’ve never found a baby in one. How strange to think of a prophet born in a cave. And yet, what better metaphor for the way enlightenment comes into our lives? Quite unexpectedly, from deep down within, we hear a cry. I don’t believe that that arrival 2,000 years ago was the first or last. For always, love, truth, and peace are arriving in the world. When we think they’ve fully arrived, in some event of the past, or in some theory of the present, we deafen ourselves to that cry from within.

This very moment, with each of us in this room, has been arriving since the Big Bang. There will never be another moment like it. We have arrived, and it is blessed. We are still arriving, and this, too, is blessed. Amen.