Waiting During the In-Between Time; Ezra 1:1-4; 3:1-4 and 10-13

Rev. George Miller
Dec 15, 2019
Ezra 1:1-4, 3:1-4, 10-13

As we continue this Advent season we continue waiting for the birth of our Lord. As with any kind of waiting, there is a mix of emotions.

Think about the waiting of a child who has not a care in the world-

-waiting for your birthday
-waiting for Christmas
-waiting for the trip to Disney.

Think about the waiting of a child learning about responsibility and consequences-

-Report Card Day
-“Wait until your Father comes home!”

Change of life waiting-

-college acceptance letter
-job offer
-bid on the home to be accepted.

Waiting for new life- birth of a child.

Then as we grow older the reality of the other kinds of waiting creep in-

-lab results
-surgery dates

There is also the waiting of when we are feeling alone and lonely-

-phone call from somebody, anybody
-favorite tv show to come on so it breaks up the monotony
-the day to end so we can escape into sleep.

Personally, my last 4 months have been nothing but waiting-

-waiting for Hurricane Dorian
-waiting to transport my Mom to MO
-waiting to hear from social workers
-waiting for my car to be fixed.

All this while also preparing and waiting for Christmas.

Truthfully, it has felt like too much, and this last quarter of 2019 is one I can’t wait to have as a distant memory.

Waiting can be hopeful; waiting can be painful.

Waiting can be joyful; waiting can be mournful.

Waiting can be exciting; waiting can be as boring as heck.

Waiting is all about being in the in-between, and as one clergy colleague said, “In-between time is a mean time.”

In today’s reading, the waiting that the people of Israel have been doing for decades has finally come to an end.

50 years ago, they witnessed their city attacked and their Temple demolished.

50 years ago, they were taken as captives to Babylon and they wept over everything they had to leave behind.

But now, just as the prophets predicted, their exile is over and they’re free return home.

They’re waiting is over!

But when they get back to Jerusalem, they realize that everything is still in shambles- their homes, their streets, their Temple.

So the people work on rebuilding their lives.

They rebuild the altar, using a stone from the original one. This allows them to resume making offerings that are pleasing to God.

Then they lay the foundation of the Temple. After the foundation is laid, the people come together.

It is meant to be a joyous time; a time of new beginnings. There’s trumpets and cymbals and songs of joy. There’s pomp and circumstance and priests in beautiful robes.

People are shouting; cheering; praising God and singing about God’s never-ending love…

…but there’s also another sound.

Weeping.

The elder members of the congregation, the older priests and leaders who saw the first Temple fall, who remembered what things were like back in their day, can’t help but to cry.

We are not told why they cried, but we can guess.

The patriarchs and matriarchs of the community cried for what they lost.
They cried for all they endured.

They cried from the emotional weight of waiting.

They cried knowing they would not live long enough to see the Temple rebuilt.

They cried because they knew no matter what, things would never, ever be the same again.

No matter how hard they tried; no matter that they did; no matter how much of a false smile they plastered upon their face.

It is this reality that Ezra chooses to tell us today.

That even though their waiting has come to an end, amid the joy and celebration and songs of good cheer,

there was also grief, there was suffering, and there were tears.

Today’s reading offers such a profound reality.

That at any given time, at any given event, that at any moment of new beginnings, there can be joy and gladness,

and there can also be pain and weeping, stemming from memories of what was lost, awareness of our own mortality and knowledge that so much of our life is beyond our control.

Which reminds us of why our faith is so important.

Not to say that our faith can fix these things, or that faith magically makes them go away.

But to know that theses 2 realities of joy and sorrow are happening at the very same time

-in any given community
-in any given congregation
-in any given family
-even in any given person.

The crowds in today’s reading are a microcosm, representing great truth of what’s going on all the time.

Joy and pain; smiles and sadness; gain and loss.

The gift that we can give to others is the acceptance that this reality exists and that it is real.

And if we are in a good place in which we are filled and full of songs, when we encounter someone who is empty and unable to sing, we can be there for them.

To simply be present. To not fix. To not stop or silence their tears. Not offer platitudes.

But to be there; with them, beside them.

And if we are in an “in-between time” or “mean time” in which we hurt, we are tired, we are sad,

we allow others into our brokenness, be honest about our truth; how we feel. To not apologize for our tears or negate the importance of our memories.

Perhaps there is a reason why Jesus said “Blessed are the meek” and “Blessed are those who mourn”.

Perhaps it is because in our meekness, in our grief, we are more open to welcome the gift of comfort.

Perhaps it is in our brokenness that we provide space for Gods’ Holy Spirit to float in like a river of honey.

Perhaps it is in our uncertainty of the future that we are most open to Christ’s assurance.

Perhaps it is in our moments of darkness that we reach out to others and discover they are reaching right back.

God’s eye is indeed on the sparrow, even when the sparrow is waiting and in-between. Amen.