At a Turning Point: A Sermon for the 4th Sunday of Advent

This sermon is heavily influenced by Victoria Larson from the Out of the Blue Advent Resource from BarnGeese Worship.

 

Prepare our hearts, oh God, to receive your word. Silence every voice in us but your own, so that we may hear your word. Amen.

 

As we approach the winter solstice in the Northern Hemisphere, you can feel and see the winter weather coming. We’ve been receiving plenty of rain and rainfall warnings. The prairies are being hit by snowstorms and extreme weather warnings. The evenings are getting darker and there is less of an urge to go outside after dinner. Night has gotten longer and longer for months, with today, December 21, being the longest day of the year. You can’t help but ask, “are we finally at the turning point?’

 

There is also a lot of darkness in the world right now. War. Poverty. Homelessness. Human rights violations. Government agencies that seem to be working against the people instead of for them. I can hardly remember a time where these weren’t the headlines in our newspapers or on T.V. Such feelings of endlessness and uncertainty in our lives and in our world. Will we ever be at the turning point? How would we know if we were? How would we tell?

 

Luckily God’s perspective is broader than ours; God knows things that we couldn’t possibly predict in our limited, human capacity. Throughout Advent, we experience this tension between human uncertainty and divine promise as we are continually surprised by things coming to us out of the blue, even though God has been trying to tell us about them for ages. The readings for this Sunday give us stories that reflect this tension between uncertainty and promise, giving us two different ways that we can respond to God.

 

In the reading from the Hebrew Bible, God seeks to relieve King Ahaz’s uncertainty by sending him Isaiah to talk things through. Ahaz is navigating political upheaval, and it feels too risky to trust Isaiah’s message of divine security in the face of two powerful empires seeking to devour his kingdom. Even when God offers him a sign, Ahaz voices his doubts, not wanting to “put God to the test.”

 

Ahaz’s concerns are deeply relatable. It sometimes seems like signs from God never show up when we need them, so we learn to work without them. We figure out how to navigate our lives as a series of gentle nudges of the Spirit, as small steps along a path we can’t see. And maybe, if we’ve gone some time without a sign, without a prophet, without divine assurance, we learn about politically expedient choices: the solutions that will work even if they’re not the ones we want. Surviving isn’t the same as thriving, but it’s not nothing either.

 

Ahaz shows us a way of dealing with uncertainty that feels clear and strong and decisive, but there’s no room in it for a sign from heaven or a promise from God. Here’s what happens next: Isaiah’s prophecy holds. God’s promises come true. But Ahaz is no longer a part of them. He’s on a different path now, and he’s taking all of Judah with him. None of this means that God abandons Ahaz or Judah, but it does mean that Ahaz has lost his chance to become part of what God was offering. What if Ahaz had said yes instead?

 

In Matthew, we have the beginning of Jesus’ birth narrative and a different response to God’s messenger than we found with Ahaz. When Joseph learns of Mary’s pregnancy, he plans to dismiss her quietly. It’s the right thing to do, both socially and politically. Joseph feels like it’s his only option. It’s the choice that will work, whether or not it’s the thing Joseph wants. Enter God’s angelic messenger.

 

The angel tells Joseph of a future he can’t yet perceive. In the belly of the woman to whom he is engaged, God is knitting salvation, cell by cell. In the darkness of Mary’s womb, an old promise is taking on new flesh, and this child will save the people from their sins. “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife,” says the angel.

 

What if Joseph had said no? What if he’d done the smart thing, the proper thing? What if he hadn’t let God come in and wreck the neatly-arranged-if-not-ideal future he had planned? If Jospeh had said no, he would have been in the same situation as Ahaz – a lost chance to become part of what God was offering. Instead, Joseph says yes, and becomes the earthly father of God the Son. In turn, Jesus claims the title of Son of David, wrapping himself in Joseph’s genealogy (which immediately precedes today’s gospel text in Matthew). God the Son took flesh within a family and a faith that shaped the human who he was in a way that mattered profoundly.

 

God’s purpose for creation is unavoidable, but that doesn’t make our choices inconsequential. Many times in our lives we find ourselves at crossroads, not knowing which path to take. We sit at that intersection, hoping that we will choose the right direction. We look for signs from God, but perhaps we don’t recognize them, or they aren’t what we are expecting. In the end, we make a choice, and that choice comes with consequences. Are we Ahaz, choosing the ignore the signs and thus missing out on all the good that God brings? Are we Joseph, accepting God’s message and bearing the difficulties the next 33 years brings, knowing that God’s path was chosen?

 

It’s hard to know when we’ve arrived at a turning point. And it’s hard, too, to accept the invitation to be part of a future that we can’t yet perceive. It’s hard to take those first few steps into an unknown future, where we don’t know the end result. It’s hard putting all of our trust in God’s hands, knowing that God is working in us through the power of the Holy Spirit. But that is exactly what God is doing through us, through our lives, through our community. God is inviting us to trust, to have faith, and to accept the guidance that God is offering.

 

St Peter’s has had a few turning points over the last handful of years, and we have more yet to come in 2026. Many of these intersections in the road came as a surprise. Some of them, maybe not as much. But each time, you have had to sit at the junctures and discern what was God’s will for this parish. Choices have been made, and consequences followed. This will be no different in the months to come. God invites us to join God in an unknown future with the knowledge that God will walk with us, no matter which path we choose.

 

Throughout Advent, we’ve read the stories of God’s invitation over and over again. God goes to Elizabeth and Zechariah and says, “You.” God goes to Mary and says, “You.” God goes to Joseph and says, “You.” God is actively inviting us to share in God’s work in the present. God is coming to us now and saying, “You.” You personally. You specifically. It is you whom God has been waiting for, you whom God is inviting into the turning points that, right now, only God can see.

 

When your invitation comes, what will you say?

A Song of Joy: A Sermon for the 3rd Sunday of Advent

Prepare our hearts, oh God, to receive your word. Silence every voice in us but your own, so that we may hear your word. Amen.

 

The third Sunday in Advent is a rare moment when Protestant churches pay a little attention to Mary, mother of God. Mary is the first Christian – the first one to say “yes” to God’s crazy scheme to save the world through an unmarried Jewish teenager from the sticks. She is present at key points in Jesus’ ministry and even at his ascension and at Pentecost. She is a friend of the poor, mother of believers, the one who taught Jesus to pray and who teaches us.

 

The Canticle from the Gospel of Luke heard today is all about Mary. It’s her song of joy that is part of her resounding “yes” to God. Her beautiful song of praise is commonly called the Magnificat, from the Latin for “magnify.” Mary magnifies the Lord, proclaiming God’s greatness and rejoicing in God as Savior. She begins with God’s actions in her own life, for in choosing her to be the mother of the Messiah, the Mighty One has indeed “done great things for” her.

 

In Luke’s Gospel, we are told that Mary spent three months early in her pregnancy with her relative Elizabeth, who was also pregnant with her child, a child that would become John the Baptist. In the lines leading up to Mary’s Song of Praise, Elizabeth had just welcomed and honored her, saying, “blessed is she who believed.” Mary now recognizes with awe that not only Elizabeth, but all generations will call her blessed. But how blessed is she, really?

 

God has chosen her to be the mother of the Messiah, but in practical terms what does that mean for her? She is not from a family that can afford expensive food or clothing. She is a nobody, a peasant girl from a small village. Her friends and neighbors see her as a disgrace because she is unmarried and pregnant. Even Joseph was going to dump her. According to Matthew 1:19, “Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly.” Being the mother of the Messiah is scarcely an unmixed blessing. She will bear the unspeakable grief of watching as her son is rejected, shamed, and crucified: “This child is destined for the falling and rising of many in Israel … and a sword will pierce your own soul too”.

 

Despite all this, Mary praises God for honoring her. Imagine the kind of strength it takes to praise God for upheaving her life, a life foretold to lead to a mother’s worst fear – outliving their child. Not to mention the fact that her child’s death will be utterly gruesome. I say again, despite all this, Mary praises God for honoring her. Mary sings about the God who saves not just souls, but embodied people. The God she celebrates is not content merely to point people toward heaven; God’s redemptive work begins here on earth. God fills the hungry not only with hope, but with food. Rather than being satisfied with comforting the lowly, Mary’s Lord lifts them up, granting them dignity and honor, a seat at the table, and a voice in the conversation.

 

At the same time, God shows strength by disrupting the world’s power structures, dethroning rulers, and humbling the mighty. Clearly such saving acts are good news for the poor and lowly, but what does Mary’s song mean for the wealthy and the powerful? Is there nothing but judgment for them?

 

Though judgment and salvation may seem like opposites, they go hand in hand. Those who stand in awe only of themselves and their own power will be judged. Yet by bringing them down – by emptying and humbling them – God is saving them. When they turn their gaze from themselves and their own accomplishments, when their awe is directed to God – then there is mercy for them, too. When God empties the rich of their excess and fills the hungry with good things, the result is not social reversal as much as it is social leveling. The rich and powerful are stripped of their arrogance and taught to love their neighbors as they love themselves. Thus God provides for the poor and honors the humiliated. When the arrogant are scattered and the powerful brought down, then every person has access to enough of the world’s resources, and no one has too much. Every person is treated with dignity and respect, and no one uses power to harm.

 

Ultimately, Mary’s song, The Magnificat, is a cry for justice. The rich, the proud, and the powerful who will all be brought down and scattered away, empty, are those who make it impossible for the hungry to be fed and the impoverished to be lifted up. James’s letter also reminds us to be aware of the suffering that is caused by the world’s corrosive and corrupting values. When James exhorts his readers to wait for the coming of the Lord, he not only instructs them to wait with patience, he presupposes that they are doing so in the midst of suffering. To read James in the season of Advent is to take time to pause, reflect, and recognize where in our lives we are unprepared to welcome Christ anew, and what values and choices have closed us off to Christ’s presence in our midst. Reading James in the rhythm of the liturgical year is a corrective that cuts through the distractions of the “holiday season” and calls our attention back to Advent. James reminds us that this liturgical season of preparation is also a season of repentance and penance that must take seriously the suffering in our midst. Waiting patiently for the day of the Lord is, as James’ entire letter suggests, a time for recognizing the values that shape our lives and communities and recalibrating them, as need be, so that they may be in accord with the wisdom that is from above.

 

James’ letter along with Mary’s song magnifies the Savior who loves the whole world with a love that makes creation whole. God’s saving judgment is for all of us, bringing us down from the pride that fills us with ourselves until we can’t see either God or neighbor, bringing us up from the shame that distorts our worldview and convinces us that no one, not even God, could love us.

 

The mother of the Messiah has experienced God’s blessing. Mary’s blessing, like ours, is a cross-shaped blessing, a blessing that brings true freedom, the priceless gift of God’s salvation.

 

As is sung by Steve Bell, in his song called “Magnificat”:

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord

And my spirit exalts in God my Saviour

For He has looked with mercy on my lowliness

And my name will be forever exalted

For the mighty God has done great things for me

And His mercy will reach from age to age

And holy, holy, holy is His name

(Listen to the song HERE)

Resources

"Pilgrim Year: Advent" by Steve Bell

"Mary, Elizabeth, and The Magnificat" by Deacon Sherry Coman in Canada Lutheran

Be Prepared: A Sermon for the 2nd Sunday of Advent

Prepare our hearts, oh God, to receive your word. Silence every voice in us but your own, so that we may hear your word. Amen.

When Cass told me she was coming here for my induction service, I gave myself a deadline of her arrival to get as much of the rectory set up as I could before she got here. When she told me she was bringing mystery guests with her, there was suddenly a new and joyful pressure of making sure I was prepared. I set to hanging artwork, making beds, gathering chairs, and putting away everything I wasn’t going to get to in bins and stored in a couple of currently unused rooms. Once that was done, I cleaned the house from top to bottom and filled the fridge and cupboards with food. While it wasn’t perfect and I didn’t get everything done that I wanted, when the first guest arrived, I was as prepared as I was going to be.

I’m sure many of you have similar stories of preparing for guests in your home. They say that nothing cleans a house better than incoming guests! This kind of preparation, while hard work, is easy to do when you know the date of your guest’s arrival. Perhaps some of you have family coming for Christmas so you know that everything needs to be prepared by December 20^th. Or maybe you’re going on a trip and so you have preparations to make for that, knowing the date and time of your departure. Or maybe you’re going for surgery and have a preparation list the doctor has given you to do ahead of time.

These are all some examples of how, with a specific timeline in mind, we can get ourselves prepared for the event. But what if we don’t know the date of our guest’s arrival? That’s how it is with Christ. We know that Christ is coming. We’re waiting on the edge of our seats for his arrival. But we ask ourselves, when is he coming and how do we prepare? Let me introduce you to John the Baptist, the man who calls out to us, “prepare the way of the Lord!”

Following the genealogy and a relatively long birth and infancy narrative during the first chapters of Matthew, the writer jumps ahead over the decades to the time of Jesus as an adult, starting with an introduction to John the Baptist. We are in a desert area of Judea, east of Jerusalem, on the banks of the Jordan River. People from all over the place have come down to see this strange man dressed in strange clothes eating strange food. Word has gotten out that he is proclaiming that the kingdom of heaven is near and that we need to get ready. What does he mean? Why is he calling for repentance? Why are folks letting him dunk them in the river? Worst of all, why is he goading the Pharisees and Sadducees? Calling them a brood of vipers?! That’s not going to go over well!

If you read the rest of chapter 3 and head into chapter 4, you will read about the baptism of Jesus by John and the Temptation in the Wilderness, all leading to the ministry of Jesus, which doesn’t begin until the middle of chapter 4 of Matthew. Throughout the first 4 chapters, Matthew makes several connections between John the Baptist and Jesus as Messiah. Jesus and John are cousins so they’ll of course have familial connections, but it goes deeper than that.

The book of Malachi closes with a divine promise, in which God declares: “Lo, I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes.” Matthew makes the connection between that promise and John the Baptist. For Matthew, John signifies the return of Elijah: “He is Elijah who is to come.” We know this because of how John is dressed. The “clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt” is how prophets were described to be dressed throughout the Hebrew Scriptures. God has sent John ahead of Jesus so that he could give instructions on how to prepare for Jesus’ arrival. Not his cousin Jesus, but Jesus the Messiah.

Advent is a time to prepare for remembering and re-experiencing the birth of Jesus, and to prepare for the second coming of Jesus and the final manifestation of the Realm of Heaven. Throughout Advent, the church thinks afresh about how to join God in the movement towards a world that is more like the realm of heaven. And who better an Advent guide than John the Baptist, whose instructions for preparation are condensed into one word: “Repent!” John’s message is that the time has come to repent because the agent through whom God will affect the transformation from this age to the next is now revealed. Repentance is the first step towards joining Jesus in the community moving towards the Realm of Heaven.

The root meaning of “to repent” is “to turn” or to have a dramatic change of mind and direction. To repent is turn away from the values and practices of the old age such as idolatry, violence, injustice, exploitation, slavery, and scarcity. To repent is to turn away from those sins and turn towards the values and practices of the Realm of God. Repentance includes feeling sorry for one’s personal sins, but it is much more than a simple apology. Repentance is the action behind the apology. Repentance also underscores that change isn’t necessary for change’s sake, but rather that change is necessary because we’ve become aware that our actions are out of step with God’s deep desire for peace and equity for all God’s people and for the whole of creation. Repentance, in short, is realizing that you’ve been traveling one way, that God is pointing you a different way, and that you humbly change course accordingly.

Once named that way, of course, repentance can get pretty daunting pretty quickly. I mean, goodness, there are so many things I could repent of, we as a community and nation could repent of, even we as a species could and should repent of.

•           Pollution and climate change.

•           Poverty and food scarcity.

•           Racial and gender injustice.

•           The lack of clean water.

•           Crime and violence.

•           And the list goes on.

I’m overwhelmed just thinking about it! It’s mighty tempting to give up on the whole repentance thing, hunker down with our current and comfortable friends and biases, and get back to watching our favorite television series on Netflix.

But on this 2^nd Sunday in Advent, consider an element of your life of which you would like to repent – that is, change direction.

•           Is there an unhealthy relationship you want to repair or address?

•           Can you imagine using your time differently and toward better ends?

•           Is there some practice or habit you might take up that would produce more abundant life for you or those around you?

I’ll give you a few moments to ponder those questions.

Now, can you identify an element of our communal lives that needs repentance?

•           How can we help that repentance?

•           Volunteer at a local charitable agency?

•           Get to know someone who is quite different from you – ethnically or politically or generationally – and try to build a more robust community?

If we can think of repentance more concretely and, indeed, engage in just two acts of repentance – one personal, one more communal – we might go a long way in redeeming not just repentance but Advent itself. Because Advent has shrunk, I think, in our imaginations. For too long we’ve concluded that Advent, otherwise known as the month of December, is the season when we are scolded for not preparing for Christmas adequately – slow down, stop buying presents, make time for church, don’t get caught up in the holiday glitz. Do you know what I mean?

We’re so worried about the spirit of Christmas disappearing, but what about the spirit of Advent. The preparation of making room for Christ’s arrival, to be surprised again that God was and continues to be willing to enter into our lives and history and take on our vulnerability in order to give us hope. The God we know in Jesus comes down out of heaven to take on our burdens and give us hope by being with us and for us, not screaming repentance but inviting a more abundant life and helping us to see in the face of our neighbor not a competitor for scarce resources but a sibling in Christ.

If Advent is a time to slow down, it’s so that we can have more authentic life, not less Christmas. Advent is a season of hope. And if repentance takes hold, then it will lead to peace. It will place the neighbour before us, so that we might be in peaceful relationship. Advent is a time of multiple preparations – for a baby to be born; for the baby, grown into a man, to begin his ministry; and for the Messianic Son of Man, crucified and resurrected, to return. This 2nd week of Advent causes us to remember that because of Jesus we can experience a Christmas free from turmoil and chaos. Regardless of our circumstances or our situations, Jesus offers us peace and hope that passes all understanding.

 Amen.

Resources

"New Collegeville Bible Commentary: New Testament" edited by Daniel Durken

"'Matthew for Everyone" by N T Wright

Rejoice! And Be Anxious for Nothing: A Sermon for the 3rd Sunday of Advent

Photo Credit: Photo by Caleb Oquendo on pexels.com

Grace, peace, and mercy are yours from the Triune God. Amen.

 

The Third Sunday of Advent is traditionally known as Gaudete Sunday. Gaudete, when translated from Latin, means “rejoice”. We know that Advent is a season of waiting and today we are called to be joyful as we await the coming of Jesus Christ.

 

God, through Zephaniah, offers us glimpses of this hopeful future and calls us to “Rejoice and exult with all our heart.” Isaiah reminds us of the ways God has delivered us, is delivering us, and will deliver us. He invites us to shout aloud and sing for joy because we shall “draw water with rejoicing from the springs of salvation.” And our cheerleader, Paul, strongly urges us to “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.” Despite the fact that Paul is writing from prison, there is a lot of joy to be found throughout his letter to the Philippians.

 

What kinds of things, events, or people has brought you joy in the past?

 

Are these the same things that bring you joy now? Are there different reasons that you feel joyful now?

 

I wonder….is there a difference between joy and happiness?

 

It feels like happiness is something we chase, something we’re constantly pursuing. And usually, when we finally find happiness, it’s wrapped up in material things. But joy is something completely different. Joy is deeper, a sense of longing, a feeling that pulls at your heart.

 

And quite often, joy is a whole lot harder to find that happiness, especially amid the great anxieties and expectations of the world, anxieties and expectations that are sometimes heightened during the Christmas season.

 

Thinking about these lines from Philippians reminds me of the musical Come From Away. Has anyone here seen that musical, or knows the story behind it?

 

Come From Away tells the true story of 38 planes that landed in the tiny town of Gander, NFLD on September 11, 2001. The kind folks there took in thousands of people from all over the world, giving them food, shelter, and clothing, taking care of all their needs for a few days until US airspace reopened.

 

Talk about anxiety! The people on the planes were anxious. The people in Gander were anxious. The whole world was anxious!

 

The entire story is filled with anxious people who lean on their faith to make it through the 5 days they spent in Gander, but there is one story in particular that sticks out this morning. People were taken on buses to various locations where they would be housed. One bus was filled with people who were from Africa. They pulled into their temporary home where they were greeted by people who were wearing their Salvation Army uniforms which, to the people on the but, looked like military uniforms. They were terrified.

 

The bus driver stops, and motions for the passengers to get off the bus. The man at the front of the bus doesn’t move. He doesn’t understand the bus driver’s language and he doesn’t trust him. The bus driver notices that the man’s wife was clutching a bible and asks her to hand it to him. Anxiously, she does so, and the bus driver flips to Philippians and points at chapter 4, verse 6. “Be anxious for nothing.” The man and the bus driver rejoiced because, through these simple words from Paul to the community in Philippi, they were able to communicate and ease their anxiety.

 

The Philippians are dear to Paul and his letter to them is considered to be a friendship letter. The community has been generous in supporting Paul’s ministry and he cares for them very deeply and wants them to succeed. But they are a people full of anxiety. They have been suffering. There has been conflict. There has been internal and external strife.

 

Paul’s letter reminds the people of Philippi that they are not alone. Paul knows what it means to suffer and to be anxious. He is writing from prison after all! Despite all of this, Paul calls his friends to gentleness, to not fall into anger, vengeance, quarreling, hatred, bitterness. Paul calls his friends to pray, not as a disregard of anxiety but as an invitation to bring their anxieties to God. Paul calls them to rejoice, knowing that the peace of God will guard their hearts and minds to focus on self-giving love.

 

But how can there be joy at a time like this? How can we find joy in a world that is so full of violence, hate, and uncertainty? The same way Paul did. Paul rejoiced because he looked forward to the Lord’s coming, and he also rejoiced because the Lord is always near. Paul seemed to have experienced the Lord’s constant presence in his imprisonment. And so, he could say, “Rejoice!” Paul carried the joy of Advent with him wherever he went – even in a Roman jail.

 

Advent is a time of preparation, a time of looking for the coming of the Lord, for the fulfillment of God’s promised restoration, for the peace that overcomes all violence, and for that perfect love that casts out fear. On this Gaudete Sunday, as we are called to wait and prepare, we are also called to rejoice. We, too, can look forward to the Lord’s coming while rejoicing that the Lord is always near. And that knowledge can bring us peace in this topsy-turvy world. God’s peace protects us by drawing us deeper into relationship with Christ, the source of our joy. As Paul says, “The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

 

Amen.

Resources:

"Feasting on the Word" edited by David Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor

patheos.com

episcopalchurch.org

workingpreacher.com

pulpitfiction.com

Prepare the Way: A Sermon for the 2nd Sunday of Advent

Photo Credit: Mark Basarab on Unsplash

Grace, peace, and mercy are yours from the Triune God. Amen.

 

In the third chapter of Luke, we encounter John the Baptist who is preparing the way for the earthly ministry of Jesus. Consider how radical this situation was: the chapter opens by telling us who is in charge, from the leaders of the Roman Empire to the heads of Judea to the institutional leaders of the temple system in Jerusalem. Yet, after introducing all of these important big-name people, who is it that prepares the way for the earthly ministry of Jesus? Some schmuck named John whose entire time of ministry was spent in the wilderness, mostly at the Jordan River. Luke draws our attention specifically to the wilderness, the river, and, of course, to John, so let’s talk about these things.

 

The Greek word erēmos is used to describe a solitary, desolate place. John’s ministry takes place in erēmos, or the wilderness, at the Jordan River. Both places were heavily associated with the exodus story of freedom from slavery, wilderness wanderings, and crossing the Jordan to the promised land. In biblical writings, wilderness often represents vulnerability and uncertainty. Luke pulls on this theme using wilderness to be a place of testing and hunger, danger or destruction, or being lost and then found. It is precisely in that wilderness place of vulnerability and danger that God appears. Perhaps that’s why we hear of all the times Jesus goes into the wilderness to pray.

 

Just as God guided the Israelites by a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night, God provides what is needed in the wilderness, such as daily manna or a feast for multitudes. Thus, the wilderness is where (and how) God’s people learn to depend on God. So, it would make sense that John does his ministry in the wilderness. He is ministering in this uncertain and liminal space between the now but not yet, and at the edge of the promised land, the River Jordan. But wait a minute, who is this John guy anyway?

 

Luke tells us that John was born to a priest named Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth. Elizabeth was barren, and they were both “getting on in years”, and yet here was this miracle baby. And we heard in the Song of Zechariah that John was born to be a prophet. Verse 76 says, “and you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways.” So, some unknown guy, working in the wilderness, had been called to be prophet right from birth. And not just any prophet, but the prophet who would pave the way for the Messiah.

 

Our gospel reading today begins with the usual way of identifying a prophet in the Hebrew Scriptures – time-stamped by reference to that roll call of rulers, it includes the prophetic call, family pedigree, and location. Here is an example from Ezekiel: “On the fifth day of the month, the word of the LORD came to the priest Ezekiel son of Buzi, in the land of the Chaldeans by the river Chebar; and the hand of the LORD was on him there” (Ezekiel 1:2-3) When we consider Luke’s description of John, it sounds pretty similar to the example from Ezekiel: “In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.”

 

What is remarkable about this prophetic description is the list of big names for that time and area, and yet are any of them called on by God to lead the way to the coming Messiah? No. God chooses the most unlikely candidate in the most unlikely place – some guy named John, a miracle baby born to parents who shouldn’t have had children, and who is wandering about in the wilderness along the Jordan River. And if you remember from other places in the gospels, he dressed simply and ate bugs. Not exactly the person you’d picture making way for the salvation of God.

 

Ok, so we’ve talked about John, and we’ve talked about the wilderness. Now what is it that’s so important about the Jordan River? Why does Luke specifically mention that area being the place for John’s ministry?

 

The Jordan River appears many times within the scriptures and often refers to a freedom that comes after a long season of adversity and waiting. Crossing the Jordan into the promised land ended a 40-year multi-generational saga for the Israelites who were escaping the terrors they were experiencing in Egypt. The people of Isreal were again looking for change, longing again for God to deliver them from oppression. By concentrating his ministry in the area of the Jordan, it’s almost as if John wanted to return to the waters that once provided physical freedom to God’s people, but this time he wanted change to come to them spiritually too. John preached that the first step on this journey toward freedom is a baptism of repentance.

 

John proclaimed that this baptism is the preparation for the ministry, life, and death of Jesus because those who accept John’s call to repentance show that they are ready to acknowledge the coming of the Messiah. Repentance here isn’t about apologizing and forgiving. It’s about change. The Greek word used is metanoia which means to change one’s mind. John announces the opportunity for personal change and calls for a change of nature.

 

John quotes the prophet Isaiah to describe the transformation that must take place:

“Prepare the way of the Lord;

    make his paths straight.

Every valley shall be filled,

    and every mountain and hill shall be made low,

and the crooked shall be made straight,

    and the rough ways made smooth,

and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”

 

Preparing the Lord’s path toward peace requires overturning the world as we know it. It means rethinking social systems and structures. It means working towards change at the root of social issues rather than only treating the symptoms. For example, as the cold winter months come upon us, how can society move beyond temporary help for the homeless and correct the root of the systemic problem instead?

 

Advent is a time of preparation, and this week John is calling for a special kind of preparation – one that calls us to examine our lives, our values, and our priorities. While we prepare for the birth of Christ, John’s challenge to repent and prepare for the ministry of Jesus is not one to be avoided. He is calling us to turn to God, to seek God’s forgiveness for all our sins, and to be ready for the Messiah. John’s message redirects our focus to a salvation from God that is truly good news for all people: “To you is born this day…a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.”

 

Amen.

Resources:

"New Collegeville Bible Commentary: New Testament" edited by Daniel Durken

"Feasting on the Word" edited by David Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor

pulpitfiction.com

workingpreacher.com

episcopalchurch.org

The Two Advents: A Sermon for the 1st Sunday of Advent

Photo credit: Daniel Watson on www.pexels.com

Grace, peace, and mercy are yours from the Triune God. Amen.

 

Wow, it’s December 1^st. I don’t know about you, but it feels like the last couple of months have just flown by! Of course, most of November was a blur for me, but it feels strange to come out of a month off and jump right into Advent. Usually there’s a time of build up as the season of Pentecost comes to a close, culminating in Christ the King Sunday. So, this week felt weird for me, heading into Advent with no lead up.

 

Speaking of December, by show of hands, who has started decorating their house? Doing Christmas baking? Has anyone started their Christmas shopping? Who’s already done it all and are just waiting eagerly for Christmas to arrive? The signs of Christmas are all around us, whether or not we’re prepared for them. As it says in the song,

                        “It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas everywhere you go!”

And here we are today in the first week of Advent, the start of the waiting period for the coming of the baby Jesus. Seems like the perfect time to talk about the end of the world, right?

 

Luke sure gives us a doozy of a piece of scripture to kick off this year’s Advent season. He starts us off with an apocalyptic prediction that takes us back to the book of Daniel, chapter 7:

                        “As I watched in the night visions,

I saw one like a human being

coming with the clouds of heaven.

And he came to the Ancient One

and was presented before him.

To him was given dominion
and glory and kingship,
that all peoples, nations, and languages

should serve him.

His dominion is an everlasting dominion

that shall not pass away,

and his kingship is one

that shall never be destroyed.” (13-14)

The Greek apocalypsis means “revelation.” As a literary genre, an apocalypse presents revelations about the future. Daniel is predicting the arrival of a Messiah, an anointed one, who would act as an agent of God to bring salvation to the chosen people. It was expected that the Messiah would be a new king, a son of David. It is that “new king” that Daniel is predicting here.

 

Luke refers back to Daniel’s apocalyptic writing most obviously in verse 27 when he states that the “Son of Man coming in a cloud” will come with power and glory. He says that there will be signs all around that the Son of Man has arrived. Now who do we know that has been going around town performing signs? Jesus has spent his time trying to show people that the kingdom of God has arrived and is standing in front of them. But because he isn’t this great king like David who comes to slay their enemy, people don’t believe him, and they don’t believe the signs that are right there in front of them.

 

And so as is his way when people are doubting, Jesus tells a parable. It’s not as powerful as say the story of the Samaritan woman or the prodigal son. The parable of the fig tree is short and doesn’t seem to have an obvious lesson to it, but there’s still a strong point made within the story. If people can read the signs of the nature, then they should be willing to read the signs of their salvation. The new buds on the trees are sure signs that summer is near. The first few snowflakes falling from the sky are signs that winter is coming.

 

Jesus has been showing signs that God is present on earth and his signs have been good – water to wine, healing people, the sharing of abundant food. But the signs that Jesus speaks of this morning sound a lot more destructive that sprouting buds and falling snow.

                        “There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars

and on the earth distress among nations

confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves.

People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world,

for the powers of the heavens will be shaken.”

This is nothing like the sweet baby Jesus that we’re waiting for, but a stern adult Jesus predicting that the world is about to be tossed about and turned upside down. This is a very different feeling than the signs of Christmas we see everywhere.

 

The first Sunday of Advent is supposed to be based on the theme of hope. Where is the hope in today’s text from Luke? Where is the hope in the destruction that Jesus is predicting? How do we go from apocalypse to hope? Well, the hope is found in the waiting.

 

First century Christians believed that Jesus’ return was imminent, that it was right around the corner, that it would happen in their lifetime. They knew they were in a period of waiting but it never occurred to them they wouldn’t see Jesus’ again. And now we’ve been waiting 2000 years but have yet to lose hope that one day Jesus will return.

 

Christians are inherently Advent people and the apocalyptic text from Luke reminds us that we are, in fact, waiting on two Advents: the infant Jesus yet to be born and the adult Jesus returning to the earth at some time in the future. Luke tells us that we are living in a gap time of what was, what is, and what is to come. And this gap period is full of fear, anxiety, and anticipation, but also hope. We hope for redemption. We hope for healing. We hope for restoration. Hope can be found in the knowledge that from destruction can rise something new and beautiful.

 

At the end of the passage from Luke, Jesus tells us to “be on guard” and to “be alert at all times”. We have no idea when Jesus will return. Every person in history who has tried to predict the second coming has failed so it’s important that we stay alert, remaining faithful despite the destruction and persecution that happens around us.

 

Ultimately, Jesus calls us to “stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” Although today’s Lukan text seems to stand in stark contrast to the preparations for the Christmas season we see everywhere, we can find hope in his apocalyptic writing about a better world that could break forth at any time. Jesus’ call to stay alert and pray for God’s kingdom to break through to our world is as important a call today as it has ever been. War, famine, addiction, hate, and greed are all on the rise. Our broken selves need Christ to come more than ever.

 

And when he does, there will be signs, if only we are alert enough to notice them. Signs that say Jesus is coming, signs that say Jesus’ return is very near. And because we know that these signs will happen, we wait with hope. Hope begins with a recognition that the way the world is currently, is not how it should be or how it was intended to be. Hope is knowing there is something good in the world and that it’s worth fighting for.

 

And our hope calls us to a renewed faith in God who never changes, who keeps promises, and who is with us at all times. Our hope assures us that no matter what happens while we wait, nothing will be able to separate us from God’s love for us in Jesus. So let us wait in hope for the two Advents: the baby Jesus to be born and the adult Jesus to come again. And in this hope, together let us say, Amen!

Resources:

"The Parables of Jesus" by Neal F Fisher

"Beginning Biblical Studies" by Marielle Frigge

"New Collegeville Bible Commentary: New Testament" edited by Daniel Durken

"Feasting on the Word" edited by David Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor

pulpitfiction.com

workingpreacher.com