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The Rev. Christopher Brdlik
December 17, 2006 - The Third Sunday of Advent

I grew up in the New York metropolitan area. I understand the customs, like the New York way to walk down the street. Don’t make eye contact. Keep to yourself. Let other passers-by just pass by — don’t recognize or acknowledge them. Don’t look like an out-of-towner, gaping up at the buildings. Here’s why: The New York way lets you maintain a sense of personal space in a crowded, congested city. It values anonymity as a daily defense mechanism, keeping the crazies at bay. But when I moved back to the area twelve years ago, I consciously violated the custom. Walking back and forth from the rectory to the church, I intentionally greeted people on the Woodland Avenue sidewalk. This was conscious, this was intentional, because (I reasoned) Summit is New Jersey, not New York City. Summit is not the big city, but a community that values its small-town feel. And, outside of New York, people greet one another when passing on the sidewalk with a nod, a smile, or a hello, even if they don’t know each other.  

Here in the neighborhood most folks have seemed surprised, but have returned the greeting. But not everyone. Last night I was walking the dogs, our two yellow labs, along Beechwood Street, a route that leads from the train station to the neighborhood on the north side. The dogs and I often cross paths with commuters returning home. Gaining on us pretty steadily was a man in an overcoat, carting a briefcase. Remember: this was the weekend. As he passed us, I commented, “Working late even on Saturday!” He said nothing back. Ten steps further I said, “Just trying to be friendly!” He half-turned and replied, “I didn’t know you were talking to me!” He said something about the dogs as he continued his pace. I said yes, they’re really quite gentle. That was it. Did we make the casual neighborly connection I had intended? The sort of personal greeting even to someone one doesn’t know that’s appropriate to the Season? My effort to practice a random act of kindness just about fell on its face, I’m afraid. Yet I’m reminded of the anonymous pressures big city life creates for human beings. In the bustle and busyness of too many striving homo sapiens, our consciousness of other people as distinct individual subjects drops off. Maybe that’s true even for just two people on a quiet street in a suburban neighborhood. But it seems to me when we lose the personal touch — when people become objects rather than subjects — we’ve lost something important about being human. 

Away from the big city, out on the edge of the wilderness, John the Baptist reminded us of basic human connections (Luke 3:1-7). The gospels point out that people streamed from Jerusalem to the shores of the Jordan River — and for what reason? To be told they were a brood of vipers? No, but to be put in mind of God’s intention that human existence is supposed to be different from ants or cattle or from a den of snakes for that matter. John’s wisdom sensibly declared respect for each other is the cardinal virtue — we are all equal before God, equally blessed, and equally judged. 

That’s what each bit of John’s advice to the people has in common with all the other bits. Let’s take them one by one: Don’t think that being a descendant of Abraham, said John, makes you better than others. Family privilege and family religion have no special standing before God. The point is what one does with the blessings of family heritage. Good trees should bear good fruit. And sharing your coat with someone who has none to wear — the point is not about the coats, or even about an urge to charity. The point is to connect with someone on a human level, and see the other individual as one made in the image of God, just as we all have been made. Then the act of giving or sharing becomes natural, hardly even a matter for discussion and decision. And taxmen, soldiers, any one in public service, officials or authorities or executives of any kind: do not fleece the public; do not misuse your office. Threats, extortion and bribery have no place in the work environment. Instead, see one another face to face, person to person, and live in service to one another. 

These and similar admonitions from the prophet John were reminders of what everyone ought to know and do about treating other human beings with the respect owed fellow creatures of God. And that reminder of acknowledging basic human dignity is absolutely necessary, said John, in preparing to meet God. We cannot recognize the Messiah if we fail to recognize each other’s worth. We will miss out entirely on the significance and mystery of the Incarnation, God becoming human flesh and dwelling among us, if we cannot relate in a loving way to fellow human souls. If we want to love God, we must love our neighbors as ourselves. 

You see, nothing was more anonymous, nothing more humble than being born in a stone manger in a stable in Bethlehem. John said the One who is coming would be more powerful than he, and John was right. But the power of God was cloaked in a human baby delivered by a poor mother miles away from her home. How easy it would be to dismiss it all and overlook this child! One could conclude quite simply his birth was of no account. But those who are sensitive to the worth and value of other human beings can see the Christ in each other, and see God in the manger. They will be blessed by recognizing the Lord when he returns again. They will be ready.  

This Advent, let us make ourselves ready by valuing the casual connection we make with other people, the unlimited opportunities we have to spread peace and good will to all. One who is coming is greater than the power of prophets. But unless we love one another, we will miss out. We might just pass God on the street, and never know it.

© copyright 2006, Christopher Brdlik

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