Been There, Done That
Sermon
And Then Came the Angel
Gospel Sermons For Advent/Christmas/Epiphany
We can thank Mountain Dew for throwing one more cliché on the heap of cutesy phrases. These popular aphorisms keep their place in the jargon until we wear them out and are forced to trash them. We shouldn't worry though, because by the time that happens there will be three or four more words that we will depend on to explain the totality of human existence.
"Been there, done that" excuses us from having to endure anything a second time. It doesn't matter if we have skateboarded up Mt. Everest, or walked from New York to London, or stood on our heads and gargled peanut butter, we are entirely too cool to do any of that stuff again. "Been there, done that" asks other people not to bore us by requesting that we repeat past experiences. We are too hip for that. Those experiences generated excitement that pumped through our bodies, but please, let's not cover familiar territory. It doesn't matter that some events would be incredible adventures no matter how many times they were experienced. Nor does it matter that something could be learned the second time around that was missed the first time. "Been there, done that" says we aren't going there, or doing that again.
This popular saying means different things to different people. Some places and experiences were so full of disappointment and pain that there isn't much desire to revisit them. We only have to suffer the humiliation of divorce once to know we don't want to do that again. We only have to make ends meet through one stretch of unemployment to know we don't want to go through that again. We only have to hold the hand of one loved through a terminal illness to know that once of that is more than enough. "Been there, done that" not only signals that we don't want to be bored by repeating an old feat, the phrase also declares that there are some things we want to stay as far away from as possible.
As with any cliché, something is lost when we adopt this motto of "Been there, done that." We close doors to exciting possibilities. We fail to see that there is more joy than we have yet known. We miss opportunities to learn from one another. Instead of quickly putting everything behind us with the trite phrase "Been there, done that," perhaps we would be better off recognizing the value of our previous experiences to ourselves and to our sisters and brothers. In a time nearly void of listening skills, in a world which talks a lot about compassion but isn't very compassionate, we need people who remember what it is like to have been there and done that.
Another overused phrase from the 1990s is, "I feel your pain." It gives us some comfort to know that other people feel and share our pain, and we comfort others when we are able to let them know that we hurt with them. People who truly feel our pain are qualified in only one way -- they have been there and done that. Before surgery and at the graveside and with the attorney, people tell us, "I know what you are going through." When people say that, they are lying if they have never been prepped for surgery, or if they have never lost somebody that mattered the whole world to them, or if they have never come home to find half of every closet cleaned out.
In the movie The Doctor, William Hurt plays the role of a physician who has been diagnosed with cancer. For the first time in his career, he learns firsthand what it is like to be a patient. He discovers the frustration of having to wait forever, the concern of having charts misplaced and tests misread, and the pain and discomfort that come with any number of procedures. As a result, his approach to the practice of medicine changes radically. Because he has been there and done that, the doctor approaches his patients with a new sensitivity. He goes the second mile to ensure that every diagnosis comes only after thorough consideration and that every treatment is handled as humanely and compassionately as possible.1 It makes a difference when we have been there and done that. Yes, it is true that some people do not learn anything from their past experiences and that some people become bitter and cold from things they have encountered, but there is a blessing to us and to the people around us when we have been there and done that. We approach situations with more insight. We are more patient and credible and understanding toward people in trouble when we remember what it is like to be in trouble ourselves.
Some of the people who speak to our youth about drug abuse ought to be people who have been abusers. They can say things to our children about the temptations and pitfalls that some of us cannot. Some of the people who work with handicapped people should be persons with various physical challenges. They can appreciate the needs of people who are in wheelchairs and on oxygen and confined to their homes better than most of us can.
Some of the counselors who work with divorced people should be people who have known the pain and failure of divorce. They can identify issues for those going through divorce in ways that many people cannot. Some of the people who work with our poor should be people who have survived poverty themselves. They can offer encouragement and compassion that those of us who have only known one good break after another cannot.
And when Matthew told the story of Jesus' birth and his early years, Matthew thought that it was important for Jesus to have been there and done that. Jesus impresses people for different reasons. Some love the miracle stories. Others are drawn to his teaching. Still others are moved by his interaction with the unlovely and unlovable. In this lesson, another attraction to Jesus surfaces.
This lesson calls for Joseph, Mary, and Jesus to begin the first leg of a long and winding journey. Yet another angel appears to Joseph in a dream and the family is on their way to Egypt, and we don't even want to know why. We don't want to hear anything about another holiday season disaster, but we know the story. King Herod is about to search for this child named Jesus. In a ridiculous mismatch, the King is out to destroy a baby. Out of a concern for safety, Joseph heads out in the middle of the night and carries Mary and their newborn to Egypt. They will stay there until the word comes that Herod has died.
All too early we find Jesus on the move, with every new place presenting fresh and demanding challenges. Instead of keeping office hours, Jesus moved around. Some encounters brought trick questions by those trying to destroy his reputation. Some experiences were with the outcasts who were shunned by the respectable people of the day. Some exchanges were shocking. Every street corner and every bend in the road found Jesus going here and there -- up to the mountains to pray, alongside the shore to teach, to the bedside of a friend's mother to heal, and to a second-floor room for one last meal together.
All of these journeys of Jesus start in this passage in which he moves from Bethlehem to Egypt to Judea before settling in Nazareth. It is no coincidence that this journey included a stop in Egypt. The central event in the Jewish faith is the exodus from slavery in Egypt. Over and over again the people were told, "Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God redeemed you" (Deuteronomy 15:15). Even if it was a brief sojourn as a child, or even if it was symbolic, Matthew wanted to show that Jesus knew what life had been like for God's people.
More than that, this trip through Egypt is a sign of what life will be like for Jesus. Jesus will know pain firsthand and will suffer interminably. While some are mesmerized by the divine side of Jesus, it is his human side which allows us to relate to him and which promises that he relates to us. Like all of us, Jesus wept, suffered disappointment, and experienced betrayal. Like all of us, Jesus was hungry and thirsty and lonely and tempted. If Jesus is a friend who knows all our sorrows, it is because our sorrows are so very much like his own.
"Out of Egypt I have called my son." Jesus' emergence from the place where his people once were treated brutally as slaves serves to call us out of our own places and times of suffering with the assurance that we are never alone. The spirit of the one who knew of the suffering in Egypt and knew suffering in his own life is with us. Out of Egypt, out of pain and suffering, out of mistrust and hostility, we are called. Of course, the only way out of Egypt, the only way out of the despair that grips us, is through the pain, not around it. There are no shortcuts. There is no denying the hurt, but neither is there denying the one who leads us out of Egypt and promises that bit by bit we will find more life than we are experiencing at the present.
Out of Egypt we are called. We are called to come through the pain that has visited us. We are called to get our own faith on the move. We are called to re-engage life in its most abundant form. And we are called to make a credible and exciting witness to those still stuck in Egypt. For while we may have been set free from the pain that was gripping us, others continue to suffer. They are overwhelmed by life's disappointments, drained by life's losses, and crushed by life's blows.
Lest we forget and become arrogant and insensitive and apathetic, our call for this and every season is to be with the hurting among us, even as God is with us through the presence of Jesus. We can say some things to them out of our experiences that they desperately need to hear. We embody hope and promise for those who are hurting because we have endured and survived our troubles. As real as their pain is, we are able to reassure them that there is more to their lives than the pain that presently threatens to destroy them.
After trying everything else, Shelly was present for her first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. Skeptical and listening half-heartedly at first, the words of Martha caught her attention. Martha told the group, "I just knew that I could handle alcohol and my other problems on my own, but I couldn't. Seven years ago I came to my first A.A. meeting and since that time I have grown as a person beyond anything I could have ever imagined."
Martha exuded confidence and depth. She spoke of her higher power, the God of Jesus Christ, and the way in which God now lived at the center of her life. Her words oozed with sincere encouragement and concern. Most of all, Martha exhibited a thankfulness which words could not express. Shelly, who came to the meeting doubtful that anything she would hear would change the way she felt or thought, made her way to Martha when the meeting was over. "I want what you have," Shelly told Martha, "I want what you have."
Shelly wanted the compassion and depth and hope which Martha knew, but she may not have realized fully how Martha came to know those things. Martha learned compassion from a time of deep personal suffering. She acquired spiritual depth from hours of praying when there was nowhere else to turn. She discovered hope by taking one step at a time because "one day at a time" was too much to be expected.
Shelly said, "I want what you have. Where do I get it?" And Martha told her, "It comes from being right where you are and doing just what you are doing." Martha went on to tell Shelly the oddest story about learning compassion when we are hurting, and learning love when we are excluded, and learning hope when we are helpless. Martha knew. She had been there and done that.
____________
1. The Doctor, Touchstone Home Videos.
"Been there, done that" excuses us from having to endure anything a second time. It doesn't matter if we have skateboarded up Mt. Everest, or walked from New York to London, or stood on our heads and gargled peanut butter, we are entirely too cool to do any of that stuff again. "Been there, done that" asks other people not to bore us by requesting that we repeat past experiences. We are too hip for that. Those experiences generated excitement that pumped through our bodies, but please, let's not cover familiar territory. It doesn't matter that some events would be incredible adventures no matter how many times they were experienced. Nor does it matter that something could be learned the second time around that was missed the first time. "Been there, done that" says we aren't going there, or doing that again.
This popular saying means different things to different people. Some places and experiences were so full of disappointment and pain that there isn't much desire to revisit them. We only have to suffer the humiliation of divorce once to know we don't want to do that again. We only have to make ends meet through one stretch of unemployment to know we don't want to go through that again. We only have to hold the hand of one loved through a terminal illness to know that once of that is more than enough. "Been there, done that" not only signals that we don't want to be bored by repeating an old feat, the phrase also declares that there are some things we want to stay as far away from as possible.
As with any cliché, something is lost when we adopt this motto of "Been there, done that." We close doors to exciting possibilities. We fail to see that there is more joy than we have yet known. We miss opportunities to learn from one another. Instead of quickly putting everything behind us with the trite phrase "Been there, done that," perhaps we would be better off recognizing the value of our previous experiences to ourselves and to our sisters and brothers. In a time nearly void of listening skills, in a world which talks a lot about compassion but isn't very compassionate, we need people who remember what it is like to have been there and done that.
Another overused phrase from the 1990s is, "I feel your pain." It gives us some comfort to know that other people feel and share our pain, and we comfort others when we are able to let them know that we hurt with them. People who truly feel our pain are qualified in only one way -- they have been there and done that. Before surgery and at the graveside and with the attorney, people tell us, "I know what you are going through." When people say that, they are lying if they have never been prepped for surgery, or if they have never lost somebody that mattered the whole world to them, or if they have never come home to find half of every closet cleaned out.
In the movie The Doctor, William Hurt plays the role of a physician who has been diagnosed with cancer. For the first time in his career, he learns firsthand what it is like to be a patient. He discovers the frustration of having to wait forever, the concern of having charts misplaced and tests misread, and the pain and discomfort that come with any number of procedures. As a result, his approach to the practice of medicine changes radically. Because he has been there and done that, the doctor approaches his patients with a new sensitivity. He goes the second mile to ensure that every diagnosis comes only after thorough consideration and that every treatment is handled as humanely and compassionately as possible.1 It makes a difference when we have been there and done that. Yes, it is true that some people do not learn anything from their past experiences and that some people become bitter and cold from things they have encountered, but there is a blessing to us and to the people around us when we have been there and done that. We approach situations with more insight. We are more patient and credible and understanding toward people in trouble when we remember what it is like to be in trouble ourselves.
Some of the people who speak to our youth about drug abuse ought to be people who have been abusers. They can say things to our children about the temptations and pitfalls that some of us cannot. Some of the people who work with handicapped people should be persons with various physical challenges. They can appreciate the needs of people who are in wheelchairs and on oxygen and confined to their homes better than most of us can.
Some of the counselors who work with divorced people should be people who have known the pain and failure of divorce. They can identify issues for those going through divorce in ways that many people cannot. Some of the people who work with our poor should be people who have survived poverty themselves. They can offer encouragement and compassion that those of us who have only known one good break after another cannot.
And when Matthew told the story of Jesus' birth and his early years, Matthew thought that it was important for Jesus to have been there and done that. Jesus impresses people for different reasons. Some love the miracle stories. Others are drawn to his teaching. Still others are moved by his interaction with the unlovely and unlovable. In this lesson, another attraction to Jesus surfaces.
This lesson calls for Joseph, Mary, and Jesus to begin the first leg of a long and winding journey. Yet another angel appears to Joseph in a dream and the family is on their way to Egypt, and we don't even want to know why. We don't want to hear anything about another holiday season disaster, but we know the story. King Herod is about to search for this child named Jesus. In a ridiculous mismatch, the King is out to destroy a baby. Out of a concern for safety, Joseph heads out in the middle of the night and carries Mary and their newborn to Egypt. They will stay there until the word comes that Herod has died.
All too early we find Jesus on the move, with every new place presenting fresh and demanding challenges. Instead of keeping office hours, Jesus moved around. Some encounters brought trick questions by those trying to destroy his reputation. Some experiences were with the outcasts who were shunned by the respectable people of the day. Some exchanges were shocking. Every street corner and every bend in the road found Jesus going here and there -- up to the mountains to pray, alongside the shore to teach, to the bedside of a friend's mother to heal, and to a second-floor room for one last meal together.
All of these journeys of Jesus start in this passage in which he moves from Bethlehem to Egypt to Judea before settling in Nazareth. It is no coincidence that this journey included a stop in Egypt. The central event in the Jewish faith is the exodus from slavery in Egypt. Over and over again the people were told, "Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God redeemed you" (Deuteronomy 15:15). Even if it was a brief sojourn as a child, or even if it was symbolic, Matthew wanted to show that Jesus knew what life had been like for God's people.
More than that, this trip through Egypt is a sign of what life will be like for Jesus. Jesus will know pain firsthand and will suffer interminably. While some are mesmerized by the divine side of Jesus, it is his human side which allows us to relate to him and which promises that he relates to us. Like all of us, Jesus wept, suffered disappointment, and experienced betrayal. Like all of us, Jesus was hungry and thirsty and lonely and tempted. If Jesus is a friend who knows all our sorrows, it is because our sorrows are so very much like his own.
"Out of Egypt I have called my son." Jesus' emergence from the place where his people once were treated brutally as slaves serves to call us out of our own places and times of suffering with the assurance that we are never alone. The spirit of the one who knew of the suffering in Egypt and knew suffering in his own life is with us. Out of Egypt, out of pain and suffering, out of mistrust and hostility, we are called. Of course, the only way out of Egypt, the only way out of the despair that grips us, is through the pain, not around it. There are no shortcuts. There is no denying the hurt, but neither is there denying the one who leads us out of Egypt and promises that bit by bit we will find more life than we are experiencing at the present.
Out of Egypt we are called. We are called to come through the pain that has visited us. We are called to get our own faith on the move. We are called to re-engage life in its most abundant form. And we are called to make a credible and exciting witness to those still stuck in Egypt. For while we may have been set free from the pain that was gripping us, others continue to suffer. They are overwhelmed by life's disappointments, drained by life's losses, and crushed by life's blows.
Lest we forget and become arrogant and insensitive and apathetic, our call for this and every season is to be with the hurting among us, even as God is with us through the presence of Jesus. We can say some things to them out of our experiences that they desperately need to hear. We embody hope and promise for those who are hurting because we have endured and survived our troubles. As real as their pain is, we are able to reassure them that there is more to their lives than the pain that presently threatens to destroy them.
After trying everything else, Shelly was present for her first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. Skeptical and listening half-heartedly at first, the words of Martha caught her attention. Martha told the group, "I just knew that I could handle alcohol and my other problems on my own, but I couldn't. Seven years ago I came to my first A.A. meeting and since that time I have grown as a person beyond anything I could have ever imagined."
Martha exuded confidence and depth. She spoke of her higher power, the God of Jesus Christ, and the way in which God now lived at the center of her life. Her words oozed with sincere encouragement and concern. Most of all, Martha exhibited a thankfulness which words could not express. Shelly, who came to the meeting doubtful that anything she would hear would change the way she felt or thought, made her way to Martha when the meeting was over. "I want what you have," Shelly told Martha, "I want what you have."
Shelly wanted the compassion and depth and hope which Martha knew, but she may not have realized fully how Martha came to know those things. Martha learned compassion from a time of deep personal suffering. She acquired spiritual depth from hours of praying when there was nowhere else to turn. She discovered hope by taking one step at a time because "one day at a time" was too much to be expected.
Shelly said, "I want what you have. Where do I get it?" And Martha told her, "It comes from being right where you are and doing just what you are doing." Martha went on to tell Shelly the oddest story about learning compassion when we are hurting, and learning love when we are excluded, and learning hope when we are helpless. Martha knew. She had been there and done that.
____________
1. The Doctor, Touchstone Home Videos.
