The 1997 film, La Vita E Bella, or, in English, Life is Beautiful, is the story of a Jewish - Italian man, Guido, in pre-war Italy, who falls in love with a woman, marries her, and they have a boy. As World War Two commences, Guido and his family are arrested and transferred to a concentration camp. Through a marvelous charade of comedic games and actions, Guido convinces his son that all will be well. The climax of the film is when Guido hides his son in a utility cabinet to avoid detection and certain death, and visits his wife under cover, literally wearing woman’s clothing. Guido is discovered and marched past the cabinet where his son peeks at him through a small window slot. Guido, while high stepping in joyful manner, winks at his son, who winks back. Guido is led away and killed by the German guard. The next day, the son comes out of the cabinet to an abandoned camp, encounters the approaching liberating Americans and is reunited with his mother. End of movie.
We are in the midst of Advent, that time of waiting, preparing, and hearing promises of great things. The prophet Isaiah waxes eloquent about a Holy Way, a path of joy and renewal, which passes through wild, dangerous territory and carries God’s people safely home, which in this case is the city of Jerusalem.
The gospel writer Matthew, 800 years later, has Jesus quoting Isaiah in reply to a question posed by the disciples of John the Baptist. Essentially, this is a relay race. John wants to know if Jesus is the One taking God’s message forward before he passes on the baton.
In both passages we have the message that God is at work. And God’s work, like creation itself, is good, even beautiful. Isaiah says: Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened. Jesus says: Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight. Isaiah says: then the lame shall leap like a deer. Jesus says: Go and tell John what you hear and see. . . the lame walk. Isaiah says: the ears of the deaf shall be opened. Jesus says: Go and tell John what you hear and see. . . the deaf hear.
We are living in a difficult time, but then, we have always lived in difficult times. Isaiah and Jesus and John lived in difficult times. And yet, God worked through them to bring a message of hope, a promise of new life, to the world in which they lived. And we, by the faithful stewardship of rabbis and priests, temples and churches, congregants of Jewish and Christian communities, receive these words of hope and promise. We receive these precious promises of restoration, of salvation, of new life. And what are we to do with them, these promises? I believe, or would like to believe, that we trust them and see them as possible now, rather than a thing of the past. I believe, or would like to believe, that God is doing a new thing, even as God is always doing a new thing, in our lives and in all creation. I believe, or would like to believe that life is beautiful, even as I grieve the injustices we inflict upon ourselves and our world.
In the movie I referenced, Guido uses games and clownish behavior to keep his son alive in the death camp. The message is mixed. There is the reality of war and ethnic brutality, along with the love and courage of a father for his son. And in the midst of this horrific time and circumstance we are reminded again and again that life is more than violence, greed, power, and fear.
And so it is with our lives. Taking nothing away from the concerns of the poor, the powerless, and the dispossessed, God has given us life and renews and restores life relentlessly. The UCC has a saying: God is still speaking. It reminds us, in part, that we are not alone in our concern for peace and justice. We have God’s saving Word. We have each other. And in all things, we have love.
What does love look like? It looks like Jesus on the cross. It looks like Guido high stepping to his death and winking at his son. It looks like the Advent workshop activity last week and the dry socks project and the sadness upon the passing of Ellen Leggett. It looks like the awkward attempts we make to care for the homeless and those addicted to drugs who are living in the dark places of our cities.
At times it will be nearly impossible to see the beauty around us, as we contemplate the sadness and the suffering of the world, Yet there is great beauty, nonetheless. Each day, each person, each relationship, each opportunity to do good, each choice to be decent, humble, courageous and kind. These are beautiful things which we have been given by a God in whose eyes we are beautiful.
How have we been blessed with beauty recently? Is it the smile of a child like Andrew which I encountered last week. Is it the sound of a song on the radio that lifts the spirits? Is it the encounter with a man on the street who says “God bless you” when he is the one you think needs God’s blessing. Beauty happens all the time.
For the beauty of the earth, for the glory of the skies, for the love which from our birth, over and around us lies, Lord, of all, to thee we raise, this our hymn of grateful praise.
In the Diary of a Young Girl, Anne Frank writes, “I’ve found that there is always some beauty left - - in nature, sunshine, freedom, in yourself.”
Beauty is all around us, even as we acknowledge the violence and injustice in our lives and in our world. Can we see it? Can we hold on to both the beauty and the brokenness of things? Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, did. And scripture promises that, by God’s grace, we may, as well.
Our lives are not easy. We each have memories of great loss, of loved ones who died way too soon. We worry about the world. We each have had night terrors, anxiety about how we will go forward in a broken relationship or a frightening health diagnosis. We each must confront the crises of faith, perhaps again and again, when we deal with who God is for us and how God would have us live faithfully, with integrity, in a world where there are so many voices telling us where we are wrong and what is right.
And yet, in the midst of our trauma, our grief, and our doubt, God makes a Holy Way, a path for each of us that keeps us safe, that protects us from the storms of despair and despondency. This does not mean life will not have its sorrows. It will and it does. But sorrows and evil and death are not the last words. Faith, hope, and love abide. And the greatest of these is love.
Very few of us will have the courage displayed by Guido, or John, or Jesus, but we can do what we can, knowing that beneath everything is love, and that makes life beautiful.
Amen