Collect: Merciful God, who sent your messengers the prophets to preach repentance and prepare the way for our salvation: Give us grace to heed their warnings and forsake our sins, that we may greet with joy the coming of Jesus Christ our Redeemer; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.
Lessons: Baruch 5:1-9 God will lead Israel with joy
or Malachi 3:1-4 I am sending my messenger to prepare the way
Cant. 16 (Song of Zechariah) You (John) shall be called the prophet of the Most High
Philippians 1:3-11 I pray that your love may overflow more and more
Luke 3:1-6 (T)he voice of one crying out in the wilderness
Give ear O heavens, and I will speak; let the earth hear the words of my mouth, for I will proclaim the Name of the Lord, and ascribe greatness to our God.
“Merciful God, (You) sent your messengers the prophets to preach repentance and prepare the way for our salvation. Give us GRACE to heed their warnings and forsake our sins …”
That’s our prayer for today. The First Sunday of Advent our focus was on HOPE. If you remember the Gospel from last week, Jesus shared a little about what we often call “The End Times,” and for 2,000 years we have tried to figure out when that might be.
It’s really a silly little exercise in futility, when you think about it. We’ve seen empires come and go, kingdoms rise and fall; wars and rumors of war swirl all around us all the time; pestilence and famine; the economy booms and busts time and time again.
Jesus doesn’t so much point us to the future, looking through some magic telescope. He’s really compressing time and space and says, “This is the world we live in, but in the midst of all the clouds and smoke, see the Son of Man coming in power and great glory, so fear not; hold fast to hope; hold your head high and look, for your redemption is at hand, in sight, and drawing near.”
What he’s saying is that while the world is filled with anxiety and dread, we don’t need to be, for we can see God coming to the rescue. That gives us hope.
It’s not the future; it is the reality we live in. God brings comfort to every generation; Don’t hang your heads in shame; don’t curl up into a fetal position and close your eyes in fear. Look! See! Behold!
Salvation is right at our doorstep!
These are all action words. We have HOPE because the author of hope is right here, at hand – not far far away.
* * * * * * * *
Today we shift our focus from hope to PEACE.
It is the Peace of God that Passes all understanding, isn’t it? Peace isn’t the lack of war or conflict, it’s being able to breathe – physically, spiritually.
Can you say, “Shalom” without exhaling? When we breathe, we receive peace.
Did you ever play hide and seek with little children, and you give them to a count of 10 or 30 to hide, and when you say, “GO!” they stand there stomping their feet trying to go in 50 directions at one time. Their brains have short-circuited and they don’t know where to go, where to hide, so they run in circles for a few seconds until they can get some traction and find that special hiding place.
This is the fight/flight reflex at work. We panic, so we can’t think.
Anxiety is like that, which is why we worry about the future.
And then we worry that our faith isn’t very good, because we’re worried and somewhere we got this idea that if we’re worried, we’re not trusting God, and if we’re not trusting God, God will get all hot and bothered by our lack of faith and maybe blow some heavenly raspberries at us when we pray and ask for help.
Well, I’m here to tell you today, that image of God has got it all backwards.
We worry, of course. We worry because we’re human; we don’t know what tomorrow will bring.
We know what it’s like when the money runs out before the month does, or the car dies and you can’t hardly afford a jump, let alone a new battery. We’ve gotten the note from school about a special school trip that will cost $20, plus another $20 for food and incidentals, and you haven’t got $2 to give your child, let alone $40 – the shame. Most of us have been there at one point or another.
Worry is natural. It can also be inspirational – a gift from God.
It isn’t the opposite of faith. In fact, it can often serve as a back road to faithfulness and godly living. It invites us to think, plan, and be creative.
Do you remember that Aesop fable with the industrious ant who builds her nest and gathers food and water, and all that good stuff while the grasshopper fiddles around all summer? Summer ends, the grasshopper is hungry, and the ant slams the door. “There’s not enough for me and you,” she says.
That story always bothered me as a Christian. Where’s the empathy? Where’s the sympathy? Where’s the love? We’re taught to look down upon the lazy grasshopper, aren’t we?
We probably recall the American fable where the first English settlers at James Town were struggling with survival, and Captain John Smith declared that those who would not work would not eat. We understand those stories. We’re inspired by those stories. But as Christians? We want the ant to share. We want the ant to care. We want the ant to work with the grasshopper to find a solution that honors and respects the dignity of each.
Perhaps the music of the grasshopper served the community all summer in a way the ants didn’t even think about; maybe it helped the ants to whistle while they worked. Not “lazy” – but different gifts that each contributes to the welfare of the whole.
Jesus tells us God cares for the lilies of the field, notices when a sparrow drops from the sky. How much more does God love each of us?
Worry is natural, but it invites us to reach out to God and to one another and trust that working together, we’ll get through the heat of summer, as well as the cold and dark of winter.
In the Gospel today, we are introduced to John the Baptizer. Luke tells us he went into all the region around the Jordan, “proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.”
Again, I don’t know about you, but sometimes I find those words “repentance” and “sin” quite burdensome. I grew up in a church that had a very clear central message: “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so; Little ones to him belong, we are weak but he is strong.”
As much as we emphasize the love of God in church, though, there’s always that niggling little voice bouncing around that echo chamber between my ears, whispering a little more loudly than it should that the fires of perdition burn hot, and all it takes is one mis-step, one accident, one forgotten Hail Mary or Our Father and you can forget about all that “love” stuff, because God needs kindling and this time “you’re it!”
When John the Baptizer yells out “You brood of Vipers,” you know that includes we good church-folk, right? We bring John the Baptist out every year during Advent and he turns us into the Church of the Quivering Brethren!
Brood of vipers. Forest of worthless scrub brush in need of clearing, cleaning, and burning.
He reminds me of my Fourth Grade school teacher, Ms. Legaz. She doled out homework by the ton. She was a harsh taskmaster. There was fire in her eyes, and with just a look kids would evaporate.
One day, Ms. Legaz was called away; she had to go to the office. She gave us an assignment to keep us busy while she was out for a few minutes. Of course, as soon as she was out the door, the class erupted with the kinetic energy of a Cat. 4 hurricane.
My good friend Gary Sly stood watch at the classroom door and when he saw Ms. Legaz coming down the hallway, her stiletto heels clicking on the tiles, he alerted the class of her return. But they were being so noisy and inattentive, they didn’t hear him (but I did. I always paid attention, and I was trying to do the assignment. I really was).
So Gary was waving his arms, yelling, trying to get the class to settle down when Ms. Legaz came up behind him, and suddenly, I knew there would be thunder and lightning and you could almost see the smoke of brimstone pumping out her ears. But then …
What’s amazing is: she didn’t yell and scream. She didn't rain down death and destruction. Everyone returned to their seats. She didn’t punish us. She didn’t chastise us. And she didn’t call us a brood of vipers. She simply said, “You know better than that,” and then went on with whatever it was we were doing before she had been called away.
That word “Repent” is metanoia (Greek) and teshuva (Hebrew) doesn’t exactly mean to stop doing wrong, or stop doing bad things. It means to turn, to change one’s mind, one’s direction, one’s attitude. It means to return to a better place, a better state.
The heart of teshuva is to return – to go home. The Hebrews didn’t just escape from Egypt. They were returning home – the land of promise. Teshuva.
Life is sometimes chaotic, like the classroom when the teacher is away. John is standing in the doorway, like my friend Gary, calling us to pay attention, to settle down, to focus.
Now John was a crusty old salt. He says there is one coming mightier than him, the thong of whose sandal he’s not worthy to stoop and untie.
John looks at the rowdy crowd and he tells them clearly, “If it were up to me, I’d take a flamethrower to this place! I’d take an axe and clear this worthless scrub-forest.”
But here’s the surprise.
God comes and lifts up the torch, not to burn us down, but to help us see better. God sets aside the axe and, instead, pulls out pruning shears to trim and shape our lives.
God hands us a shovel, not to dig our own graves, but to help fill in potholes and smooth out those irritating speed-bumps we try to dodge in life.
Why?
So that we will see the God who heals and restores the world, and who invites us to come in and be a part of that work because, in the end, God really does love us, and creation. That’s what gives us peace. That’s what allows us to breathe. And that’s what we have to share with the world in these anxious times. You are loved. We are loved.
In some ways, I think God shrugs her shoulders, like Ms. Legaz and says, “You can do better. We can do better. Let’s get back to work.”
Advent is a season of hope, peace, joy, and love. Each week more light is brought into this sacred space. May God grant us the courage to receive that light and carry it forth in the Name of the One who is to come.
In the Name of God, the source of our Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love. Amen
Delivered by the Rev. Keith Axberg (Retired) to Christ Episcopal Church, Anacortes, WA, December 8, 2024
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