‘Waiting’

By Emily Bruce
UUAC First Parish at Sherborn
November 29, 2020

Reading – ‘I Am Waiting’ (excerpt) by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

I am waiting for my case to come up
and I am waiting
for a rebirth of wonder
and I am waiting for someone
to really discover America
and wail
and I am waiting
for the discovery
of a new symbolic western frontier
and I am waiting
for the American Eagle
to really spread its wings
and straighten up and fly right
and I am waiting
for the Age of Anxiety
to drop dead
and I am waiting
for the war to be fought
which will make the world safe
for anarchy
and I am waiting
for the final withering away
of all governments
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the Second Coming
and I am waiting
for a religious revival
to sweep thru the state of Arizona
and I am waiting
for the Grapes of Wrath to be stored
and I am waiting
for them to prove
that God is really American
and I am waiting
to see God on television
piped onto church altars
if only they can find
the right channel
to tune in on
and I am waiting
for the Last Supper to be served again
with a strange new appetizer
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for my number to be called
and I am waiting
for the Salvation Army to take over
and I am waiting
for the meek to be blessed
and inherit the earth
without taxes
and I am waiting
for forests and animals
to reclaim the earth as theirs
and I am waiting
for a way to be devisedto destroy all nationalisms
without killing anybody
and I am waiting
for linnets and planets to fall like rain
and I am waiting for lovers and weepers
to lie down together again
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the Great Divide to be crossed
and I am anxiously waiting
for the secret of eternal life to be discovered
by an obscure general practitioner
and I am waiting
for the storms of life
to be over
and I am waiting
to set sail for happinessand I am waiting
for a reconstructed Mayflower
to reach America
with its picture story and tv rights
sold in advance to the natives
and I am waiting
for the lost music to sound again
in the Lost Continent
in a new rebirth of wonder

Sermon – ‘Waiting’

Good morning again friends – it’s lovely to see all of your faces this morning. I am grateful to be with you and I hope that whatever form your Thanksgiving took this year, that it brought you some measure of joy and comfort and connection with those you love.

As you now know from earlier in the service, today is the first Sunday of Advent. Advent means “arrival” – in the Christian faith it is the time to await the birth of Jesus, the one who is called the light of the world. Advent can also be celebrated as a time of waiting for the Winter Solstice, the darkest day of the year on Dec 21st, and the growing light that will follow it. Some also see Advent as calling forth the new year to come, and all of the possibilities that a new year can bring.

All of these traditions translate into waiting, waiting for something better to come. I think I can relate to that concept this year, can you?

It feels like we have been in a year-long Advent cycle. We’ve been waiting for so long: for the pandemic to recede, for a vaccine to come. Waiting for schools to reopen, for travel to be safe again. Waiting to hug our beloved friends and families, waiting to go back to church, to sing again, to be in the presence of our beloved community.

Waiting for the economy to grow again, waiting to go back to work, or to find a new job.

Waiting for the election to come and, for many, now waiting – and praying - for a peaceful transfer of power.

Waiting to breathe deeply again, waiting to let go of anxiety, of grief, of anger and frustration.

Most of all, for me at least, waiting for a definitive “end” to any of these things; something that signifies “It is over and we can now move on with our lives.”

But the world doesn’t seem to work that way anymore. Did it ever? I’m not so sure.

When I found our reading this morning – the poem “I Am Waiting” by Lawrence Ferlinghetti – I thought for sure it was written recently, because it speaks to so many of the things we are facing right now: anxiety, nationalism, injustice.

Turns out I was wrong – this poem was written in 1958. The author was an activist, a radical poet and a member of the Beat generation, along with Jack Kerouac and Alan Ginsburg.

As I did a bit of googling to learn more about Ferlinghetti and his poem, I was reminded that the 1950s had a lot of unrest and division too. The country was in the middle of the Cold War with Russia at that time. Fears of communism gripped the country, fed in part by the prejudicial tactics of Sen Joseph McCarthy to root out suspected communists throughout the political and Hollywood establishments. It was an era known as the Red Scare.

In 1954, the Supreme Court made a landmark decision in the Brown v the Board of Education case, declaring school segregation of black and white children unconstitutional. That decision set off intense conflicts in the South over de-segregating schools.

In 1955 Rosa Parks refused to move from her seat in the whites only section of the bus. Her act of resistance sparked the yearlong Montgomery bus boycott in Alabama led by Martin Luther King Jr. It is well known that Rosa Parks and this boycott planted the seeds of the Civil Rights movement that would unfold for more than a decade.

So, there was a lot going on then. Lots of fear, division and hatred. Also, resistance, and speaking truth to power. Not so different than now. I think about the millions of black people who waited for equality back then; they and their descendants are still waiting now.

But the line that struck me the most from this poem is his constant refrain at the end of each stanza “Waiting for a rebirth of wonder.”

Much like the poet, I find that I am waiting for a rebirth of wonder. And I am praying that this season of Advent helps deliver it.

Because I am waiting, not just for the time when we can put the pandemic behind us, or when we can move beyond this painful moment of partisan division. We are all waiting for those things, and rightly so.

But I am also waiting for the morning where I wake up calm instead of anxious. I am waiting for the ability to easily embrace joy again. Most of all, I am waiting for when I can live without needing assurance that there is reason for hope and that justice will prevail.

I am waiting to rediscover what it means to feel connected to our collective humanity again. For a time when I am not constantly aware that half of our country seems to stand for all of the things I stand against.

The season of Advent is about the birth of Jesus for many. But it’s also about renewal, about hope for what is to come. It’s about the struggle to cross a threshold into a new understanding. It’s about looking for light amidst the darkness.

Our offering song this morning said it beautifully:
Now the old has already passed away
but the new is too new to be born today
So, I’m throwing out seeds on the winter snow
standing here on a new threshold
I can see a light, there’s a light in the window

When I was a kid I used to love to play outside in the wintertime. It didn’t get that cold in the South, so it was such a novelty when the temperature went down into the 40s. I’d put on like 4 sweaters - because we didn’t own big winter coats – and I would go outside to this big field behind our house with my brothers. We’d stay out there until dark. As the sun went down, my parents would call out to us to come inside and it was only then I realized just how cold I was! I would look to the house and see it all lit up. I knew that my mom had something warm on the stove and my dad was likely stoking a roaring fire. I would run towards the house, anticipating the feelings of coming in from the cold: the warmth and love and comfort that awaited me.

These days, I feel as though our souls are longing to come in from the cold. Longing for warmth, and belonging, and joy. Longing to reclaim all of those things that we once took for granted. Hugging each other, singing together in church, the list is endless.

Friends, in the beginning of this Advent season, I encourage you to try to name what you are waiting for. I know that list is so so long for many of us, but what do you wait for the most? Can you name it? Can you make space for that longing in your heart, allowing yourself the compassion to feel it?

I ask this not to make you dwell on your suffering, but to help you seek out that which has the greatest power to bring you hope. To remind you – and all of us – exactly what it is that we live for, what we fight for, what we believe is important, and what brings meaning to our lives.

So in this season of waiting, may we remember to look for the lights in the window. For the rebirth of wonder that is waiting to be realized, for the hope and love that waits for us across the threshold.

May it be so, Amen.