“Goodbye Darkness, Hello Friend,” First Sunday of Advent, Romans 13:11-14

(complete sermon with citations can be found here)

“Goodbye Darkness, Hello Friend”

First Sunday of Advent, Romans 13:11-14

St. Paul Lutheran Church, Arlington, MA

December 1, 2019

Vicar Samm Melton-Hill

Last year, there was a documentary released titled Quiet Heroes, which told the stories of a lesbian doctor, Dr. Kristen Ries, and the Sisters of the Holy Cross who became the primary doctors and caregivers for AIDS patients in Salt Lake City during the height of the AIDS epidemic in the 1980’s and 90’s. The documentary sought to shed light on the AIDS crisis of Salt Lake City, Utah. The producers described the city as “a place where general cultural and religious conservatism meant most gays lived their lives in secret, and where the initial response to AIDS sufferers was particularly negative as a result.” The film focuses largely on efforts of the doctors and nuns because they were the only caregivers who dared to treat those afflicted with HIV and AIDS in the city. It’s a remarkable story of love and death.

I share the story of this documentary with you this morning for a couple of reasons. One, today, December 1st, is World AIDS Day, a day that is observed in memory of those who have lost their lives to AIDS or continue to live with the effects of the disease. World AIDS Day also offers an opportunity for education about both HIV and AIDS, in an effort to remind us that AIDS is still a living disease that affects thousands of people, of all sexualities, genders, ethnicities, and ages worldwide. This year’s theme is “Communities Make the Difference.”

And secondly, I share this story with you because there is something striking about it, something uplifting, something Gospel-like, especially when retold in the light of our first reading from Paul in Romans chapter 13 today.

Many of the doctors and patients that lived during the height of the AIDS epidemic in the United States described the experience as simply tragic. You may recall that many of the patients at the time were self-identified gay men, people that many cities and doctors refused to serve. People, that our own Church refused to share a communion cup with. This population, sick and dying, were outsiders, outcasts, and ostracized by most of society.

In this documentary, the language that a patient used to describe the work of these two doctors struck me. One patient said that finding someone like Dr. Ries and the Sisters of the Holy Cross, was like finding an island of light in a city of darkness. For many patients, the only hope they found in their last days, were from people like this doctor and the community of the sisters.

The light and darkness metaphor likely rings a familiar bell for you during the season of Advent and Christmas. We use the imagery of light weekly as we light the candles at the start of service, distinguish them at the end, and symbolically carry the light into the world. And on Christmas Eve, we hold candlelight services to symbolize the coming birth of Christ. And in times of grief and trouble, we light a candle as a symbol of hope. These are symbolic rituals rooted in scripture. And so it should be no surprise that we encounter more language of light and darkness in our reading from Romans today.

In this chapter from Romans, Paul writes to a community of both Jews and Gentiles. Much of this letter offers instructions to the people for living a Christian life under the rule of the Roman Empire. Paul is writing to this community because he wants to preach the Gospel and offer Christian advice to his siblings in Christ.

In this particular excerpt, Paul reminds this community that salvation is near and urges them to “wake up and prepare for the coming of the Lord.” And in verse 12 he says, “The night is far gone; the day is at hand. So then let us cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light.” This language of light and darkness is important and should draw our attention.

The attention to this language brought up two questions for me; One, why does Paul reference darkness and light here? And two, why is the “armor of light” cast in this battle-like language?

We know that Paul likely had access to many of the writings from the Old Testament and perhaps even those of other ancient Jewish documents like the War Scroll and the Dead Sea Scrolls. And if he didn’t have direct access to the texts, he was at least steeped in theological and intellectual conversations where he would have been familiar with their contents. Now, if we know anything about Paul, we know that he isn’t perfect, but we also know that he chooses his words carefully.

So for Paul, when he talks about the “amour of light,” I believe that he is making a very specific reference to the contents of these ancient documents. Specifically, Paul is referencing the religious community of the Essenes (uh-seenz).

The Essenes were a community of Jews that were known for being an incredibly devoted group of religious people. They believed deeply in the eventual coming of the end times and found themselves preparing for such times in the Judean desert during the first half of the 2nd century. They “thought themselves to be the holy elect of Israel, the Sons of Light, who would at the end of time engage in a catastrophic war with the enemies of Israel, the Sons of Darkness.” This community referred to themselves as the “Sons of Light” and all evil forces that threatened Israel and the kindom of God to be the “Sons of Darkness.”

Maybe now we can begin to see the connection. The language that Paul uses of, “placing on the armor of light,” is a reference to this community of people. While there is much criticism to be offered of the Essenes and the language used, I believe Paul was not only aware of them and their devotness, but perhaps even respected their primary system of beliefs. The Essenes “were called upon to swear piety to God, justice toward men, hatred of falsehood, love of truth, and faithful observance of all other tenets of the [Essene] sect.” They were preparing for the coming of God.

Paul not only writes these instructions to the believers of the Roman Empire, but also beautifully weaves together ancient texts and history of the Jewish people in a way that would have made this small excerpt extremely important to those who were listening. It was a relatable text for his audience; it made sense.

And so while I love history and nerdy scripture references as much as the next person, I always end up with the same question; so what? Somehow the weaving of ancient texts and Paul’s words made their way here...to St. Paul in Arlington and we are left wondering what to do with them.

Preacher and theologian, JR Daniel Kirk, helps us answer this by telling us that this text is offered to us as a source of hope. He says that “In essence there are three sources of hope for the promised future: (1) the promise Christ made that he would return; (2) Christ’s own resurrection which shows us that there is an embodied future on the new creation awaiting us; and (3) the transformation of our lives and communities here and now, which is a manifestation of the future that awaits us.”

I too believe this is what Paul has to offer us today. Paul is telling his readers, which means us, that “we wait for Christ’s coming by becoming the Christ people: We wait for Christ’s coming by becoming that future ahead of his arrival, so that when he arrives he will behold his own as though looking in a mirror.” Yet in order to do this Paul simply says to do two things: cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light.”

Today, I feel most called to focus on that third source of hope that Pastor Kirk identifies: “the transformation of our lives and communities here and now, which is a manifestation of the future that awaits us.” I believe that this transformation is possible, but simply wonder how I go about doing it.

Paul tells us that we can begin this transformation by “casting off the works of darkness.”

I don’t know what this means to you in this moment, but I can take some guesses. Some Christians may read this as coded language for sin. Sin as a force of darkness that affects our ability to create a community that mirrors that of Christ is a fair reading. But for me I think it goes a bit deeper. I read the forces of darkness to be anything that distracts me from seeing the hope and happiness alive in my life.

And for this reason, Paul’s words from Romans seems fitting for the start of the Advent season. We read Romans to begin Advent because we are being asked what needs to be left behind and what tools of the kingdom can be used to help us see through such darkness.

If we return to the AIDS patients of Salt Lake City for a moment, many of them spoke of the hope that people like Dr. Reis and the Sisters provided to them and their community. It wasn’t that God removed their pain or instantly healed them of AIDS, but instead that the people of Christ found a way to offer them hope.

This hope, this sliver of light, only made its way to the lives of these patients because those doctors and caregivers broke through the margins to reach them. For those doctors and caregivers to do this, they had to let go of two things to make this possible. They had to find a way to cast away their own stereotypes about AIDS patients and gay men and cast aside society’s expectations of who they were called serve.

When they were able to leave those two things behind; Christ found a space to show a bit of hope through them. It was here they were able to transform both themselves and their communities to look more like the world that we would want Christ to encounter.

This advent season, we will be asking many questions. During service, as we prepare for Christmas, we will have an opportunity to be in prayer together as a community in a more interactive and creative way than we might be used to.

Along the back wall of the sanctuary, you’ll see some of these prayer stations that we will use during the four Sundays of Advent. This Sunday, we use the web to my right. In a few moments you will have an opportunity to use a piece of fabric to offer a prayer to God. By the doors in the back, you’ll find strips of fabric and sharpies. In response to a reflection I’ll offer here in just a moment, I invite you to use a sharpie to write your prayer on the fabric, which you can do on the podiums provided in the back. And then tie the strip of fabric onto the web. The prayers will remain with us and grow throughout the season. In a few moments, Ryan will offer us a couple of minutes of music for reflection, which will allow us an opportunity to go to the back and participate in this prayer activity. In addition to offering you this time to participate, please also feel free to take part in the activity at any time during or after the service as well.

On your strips of fabric I invite you to answer one or more of these questions.

Inspired both by the doctors and caregivers of Salt Lake City and the words of Paul in Romans, I wonder what heaviness you are asking God to take from your life? What things can you leave behind this Advent season? What can you let go of to allow an opportunity for Christ’s light of love to shine through?

For me, as someone who struggles with depression, this looks like being more honest with family and loved ones about how I’m feeling. Leaving behind my own ego, letting go of the stigma of mental illness that society has placed within me, tying it up on that back wall, and stepping into vulnerability by allowing others to care for me, is precisely the place that I experience the love of Christ most fully. In my own life, this is how I see Paul’s words showing up for me this Advent season.

And maybe this looks different for you, maybe you are struggling with sobriety and your hope looks like leaving behind that drink at the holiday party. Maybe you are struggling with grief, and you too need to allow yourself the freedom to be honest with yourself and others about that grief. Perhaps during this holiday season, you can leave behind that negative reaction to a comment your family member makes at the dinner table. Maybe there is an expectation placed on you by others that you need to rid yourself of.

The process of transformation, Paul says, begins by identifying this darkness that we desire to let go of, so that we can instead be prepared to recognize and put on the dress of Christ when it shows up in our closet.

At this time, please feel free to join me in offering our prayers along the back wall of the sanctuary. What do you need to leave behind this Advent season?

Amen.