God In the Doorway
Isaiah 7:10-16; Romans 1:1-7; Matthew 1:18-25

On this fourth Sunday in Advent, we are now very close to Christmas. We are close to the birth of the baby. We are close to the reality of Jesus. The rhythm of Advent is different from the rhythm of Lent. Lent descends from Ash Wednesday, through the penitential season, to the abyss of Passion Week and Good Friday -- and then Easter bursts suddenly upon us. Advent is different, says Biblical scholar Reginald Fuller. "Advent rises in a steady crescendo toward the full light of Christmas. It's a rhythm so aptly symbolized by the tradition of the Advent wreath, whereby the light increases as the weeks pass by. This crescendo of Advent is reflected in our Sunday lessons. They begin with the prophecies of Isaiah and John the Baptist. And they find their culmination today, on the fourth Sunday of Advent, in a series of readings that focus on the Blessed Virgin and the annunciation of Jesus' birth."¹

Today, on this Fourth Sunday in Advent, as we stand on the cusp of Christmas, the threshold, so to speak, of the Incarnation, it is as if God is in the doorway. Have you ever noticed how we behave at our doorways -- especially in extreme weather? Someone comes to the door, and we look to see who it is. If we decide to open the door, we stand there on the inside, while our visitor is there on the outside. And if any material goods are exchanged, like money and Girl Scout cookies, or whatever, the door gets opened. But if it's very hot outside and the air conditioning is on, or if it's very cold outside, and the furnace is running, it doesn't take long before we're faced with making a decision, standing there at the threshold -- in the doorway. Should we go in or out? Should we invite this person in and close the door? Should we step outside onto the porch and close the door? Or should we just send them on their way and close the door so we can get back to what we were doing before the interruption?

So here we are today in the doorway, so to speak, spiritually speaking. Standing in this doorway marks the culmination of Advent. I love metaphors. Sometimes I get carried away with them. This may be one of those times. We could think of our lessons today as speaking to the two sides of that doorway. We're at the door between two worlds. On one side of that doorway is our first lesson from Isaiah -- and it's all about politics and power. The northern and southern kingdoms of Israel are in conflict. Ahaz, the king of Judah, is given a sign that everything will eventually turn out successfully. "A young woman shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Emmanuel." The sign will concern the continuation of the Davidic dynasty -- a sign that God is with his people.

In the Gospel the focus is on the supernatural conception of Jesus -- what we often refer to as the "virgin birth." We could have a lot of fun exploring this in a Bible Study -- which I invite you to attend every Tuesday at noon or 6 pm starting right away in January. But for now, suffice it to say that the purpose of describing Jesus' conception in this way was to lift up the transcendent nature of it all. God, in Jesus, intervened in human history. And so we have in our Gospel the other side of that doorway -- the other side of Jesus' nature: the divine.

The threshold itself could be our second lesson from Romans. It includes elements from both sides of the doorway. You know how we have credentials, or titles, or initials that stand for certain degrees after our names? Like Mr. or Mrs. Or Dr. Or Reverend or Ph.D. or MSW? (I always say I don't have to get my doctorate because my initials are already "DR.") Paul, in writing to the Romans, is laying out Jesus' credentials. He echoes our first lesson when he describes Jesus as being descended from David according to the flesh. This lends Jesus credibility with the Jews. He echoes the Gospel reading when he describes Jesus as "Son of God with power according to the spirit of holiness by resurrection from the dead." This lends Jesus credibility with the Gentiles, and it establishes the Christian doctrine of the two natures of Jesus -- human and divine.

Today, our task is to be ready to answer that door in a few short days. And when we do, what will we do? Will we linger inside while our visitor remains on the doorstep? Will we step outside and close the door so as to keep the heat from escaping? Will we send him on his way? Or will we invite him in? Will we welcome him because we've been waiting and watching and eagerly anticipating his arrival?

The great American novelist/theologian Annie Dillard has written about an encounter like this "she had as a child. It kind of keeps this theme going we've had these last weeks of seeing Advent through the eyes of a child. The title to this short story is "God in the Doorway," and in it, she recalls a Christmas Eve long ago. She and her family had just returned home from dinner to a warm living room and their Christmas Eve celebration.

There was a commotion at the front door, she says: It opened, and cold wind blew around my dress. "Look who's here! Look who's here!" It was Santa Claus, whom I never - ever - wanted to meet. Santa was looming in the doorway and looking around for me. My mother's voice was thrilled: "Look who's here!" I ran upstairs. And then she explains: Like everyone in his right mind, I feared Santa Claus, thinking he was God. I was still thoughtless and brutish, reactive. I knew right from wrong but had barely tested the possibility of shaping my own behavior, and then only from fear, and not from love. Santa Claus was an old man you never saw, but who, nevertheless, saw you.... He knew when you'd been bad or good. And I had been bad.

Her mother called, pleading. Her father encouraged; her sister howled. But she would not come down Santa actually was a neighbor, Miss White, whom Annie Dillard liked. With hindsight, Dillard realizes that in her child's mind, Santa Claus and Miss White and God were all mixed up into one. As a child she didn't quite grasp a difference between them. One time, quite by accident, Miss White was showing her how a magnifying glass focuses the rays of the sun. She trained the spot on Annie Dillard's hand until it started to burn. Annie ran home crying.

Years later, Annie Dillard wrote: "Even now, I wonder: If I meet God, will he take and hold my bare hand in his, and focus his eye on my palm, and kindle that spot and let me burn?" She concludes with an intriguing paragraph that is good theology and perhaps a commentary both on our texts and our standing at the doorway here on this Fourth Sunday in Advent:

"If I meet God will he let me burn?... But no. It is I who misunderstood everything and let everybody down. Miss White, God, I am sorry I ran from you. I am still running, running from that knowledge, that eye, that love from which there is no refuge. For you meant only love, and love, and I felt only fear and pain. So once in Israel, love came to us incarnate, stood in the doorway, between two worlds, and we were all afraid."²

Today we make final preparations to answer that door come Christmas. Not only is God standing in the doorway, God IS the doorway because God is in Jesus and Jesus is the door, and in that door, these two worlds of the earthly and heavenly, human and divine, come together. Even when we feel only fear and pain, we need not run away or close the door or send this visitor on his way. This visitor God meets us not to let us burn, but to embrace us where we are, as we are. We need not be afraid, for like Miss White, God means only love, and love -- love from which there is no refuge.

Pastor Dana Runestad
Fourth Sunday in Advent, 19 December 2004
Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Livonia, Michigan

¹ Reginald Fuller, Preaching the Lectionary: The Word of God for the Church Today, Collegeville, MN, 1984, p. 11
² Annie Dillard, "God in the Doorway," Teaching a Stone to Talk: Expeditions and Encounters [New York: Harper & Row, 1982], 137-39;

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