Sermon delivered on Advent 3A, Sunday, December 11, 2016, at St. Augustine’s Anglican Church, Westerville, OH.
If you prefer to listen to the audio podcast of this sermon, click here.
Lectionary texts: Isaiah 35.1-10; The Magnificat (Luke 1.46-55), James 5.7-10; Matthew 11.2-11.
Grace to you, and peace, from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
It was eleven years ago this week that I took a trip to New York City via Greyhound to complete a trip in honor of my Mamaw Shirley. She had passed away a few months before, and had never gotten to take her trip to Ellis Island to see where her grandparents had entered the United States. This trip was something that I could always remember her talking about, so I took it upon myself to complete the trip that year before heading off to my first naval assignment in Okinawa. It was an interesting trip for a reason that I think you will all understand.
New York is a busy place. Especially during the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas the city takes on a whole new pace as people are in a bigger rush than they normally are. We have to get this shopping done, and tie up these loose ends in our work, and see all these people that we’ve not seen all year, and rush, rush, rush. It’s enough to make your head spin.
But during these weeks of Advent, year after year after year, in the midst of all the busyness, rushing, and noise we hear a still, small voice repeat these words to us: be patient…endure…wait…have faith…be strengthened…you shall see…
These words are intended to calm our busied hearts, and recapture our focus back toward that which has the ultimate claim on us. They are meant to continue to feed us on the spiritual food that nourishes our souls, keeping us until the new Advent, when the Lord will again come, when the New Jerusalem will descend, and the Lord will be physically present again with his people on his earth.
But the noise competes for our attention. The checklist of things we must accomplish seems to grow by two every time we mark off one of our “to-do’s.” The stress is real, and it is palpable. But the voice of the Lord continues to speak to us from his holy Word: Be strong…do not fear.
On that trip to New York I was able to hear a sermon on patient endurance one Saturday evening at St. Lucy’s Church in the Bronx. And in that time worshipping with that body of believers it was peaceful and the Spirit of God relieved us of our fears, of our worries, of the feelings of stress that loomed over us. And then we left that place to rush around to the trains, and through traffic in busses, taxis, and cars, and scurried down the sidewalks to beat the rushes of people who would be coming out to do their shopping. The crush of the madness of fleeting time was still present in the neighborhood, and it pressed upon us all. The sun was setting, the light was going away, the frigid wind was like a dog gnawing on our faces, and it seemed to come from every which direction we would face. We just wanted to get to the part where we’re happy and light hearted, singing around a piano in the warmth of our homes, surrounded by family and friends, wearing hideous Christmas sweaters and drinking our eggnog with big goofy grins like in the movies. Except no one in my home plays the piano, and I’m generally goofy looking as it is.
Advent is a season of waiting, but really it’s the season when we may see our own impatience rising to the top. And we may not like it, but it’s still hard to shake. We have an expectation of joy, and we want it right now, much like when we were little children awaiting the opening of presents on Christmas day. It’s the waiting that is really hard for us children of God, because it’s in that time that we might begin to lose our sight of true joy. But God still whispers to us: be patient. I will come.
Israel had been waiting a long time for the promised Messiah to come. Some had come and claimed to be the Messiah, but the movements of those men never seemed to last very long. They would be put down, or just fizzle out. And so the people did everything they could to figure out when the Christ would come. They wanted out from under the oppression they lived with every day, and they wanted free right now.
In the village of Nazareth lived a young woman called Mary. She was one of the poor folks living in a poor town filled with folks who were seen as yokels. It was the kind of place one would ask, “can anything good come from that hole?”
Mary had been visited by an angel of the Lord, much in the same way Zachariah, John the Baptists father, had. In fulfillment of what the prophets had said, and for which they awaited, she was told that she would be with child, and that he would be the Son of God. He would be called Jesus, Yeshua, Yehoshua, Joshua, all the same name, meaning, “The Lord will save.” And when she visited Elizabeth, the mother of John the Baptist, the child in Elizabeth’s stomach leapt for joy at his coming. The promised Messiah, the one for whom Israel had been waiting, was now among them. And he did not coming like most would have expected; he entered the world in the most unlikely of places, being born to the most unlikely of people. And Mary sung her song, filled with the joy of the Lord, her son.
And now we fast-forward in the story of Jesus the Messiah, the one who has brought this joy into the life of Israel. We’ve heard recently of the ministry of John as he preached the coming of the Messiah, and baptized many in the Jordan River. He’s even baptized Jesus. But things have recently become very difficult for John. He’s been thrown into a prison cell. It’s not a very happy time for him. John, sitting in his cell, waiting for his coming death, sends some out to Jesus to ask him, “Are you the one who is to come?” Maybe this isn’t, and we have to keep on waiting.
And that’s the real question: Is Jesus the one I’m waiting for, or should I keep on looking? Is this the present I’ve been waiting for? Is this the party, is this the family reunion, is this the date I’ve been waiting for? Is this the job I really wanted? Is this really the house we wanted so desperately two years ago? Is this really the person I loved four years ago? Is this really the person I love now?
In Jesus Christ we find that gift, the promised gift, who brings true and lasting joy. We see that the lame have been made to walk, the blind have been made to see, the deaf to hear, and prisoners of oppression, of sin, are set free. We see true reconciliation between God and humanity, and take our cue to seek reconciliation with other people. The dead are raised, and good news is preached to the poor. The pattern of things has been reversed, and instead of going toward death we can move toward life.
And these things didn’t come in the way that they were expected. They came through the blessing of a poor young woman called Mary, living in a poor town, the oppressed of the oppressed. Jesus came among a bunch of people who did not have everything worked out. He came in the midst of the madness.
And in the midst of the madness of our own time he comes to us poor through the preaching of his Word, participation in the sacraments of the font and the table, and through the fellowship of the Church. The pressures and pulls of life, of the rush and the busyness are still present, sure. Some of us have gotten a lot of the things we’ve always waited and worked for. We might have the car, the house, the job, the stuff, but is that all there is? These things make us happy, but they might not last. People lose jobs, and homes. Cars wear out. The stuff breaks and ends up in the bin. And then the cycle of trying to get new things begins. And these things are usually good for us. But they’re only good for us if we aren’t looking to them to bring us the ultimate joy. That can only be found in the Christ.
And now we live on the other side of the first Advent. Christ has been crucified for us, making the sacrifice that enables our entrance into God’s kingdom. He has risen from the dead, and has ascended into heaven. So we wait again for the second Advent, his coming again in glory. We wait in the midst of broken things, and fleeting time. We wait in the midst of the rush.
Listen to what Jesus told John’s disciples when they asked that Advent question. Jesus said, “When you get me, the lame walk, the blind receive their sight, the dead are raised, the poor get good news.” What did all that mean? It meant that John’s disciples, who had already repented and turned around once, were going to have to repent and turn around again.
It meant that Jesus comes to reverse things. What was dead is now raised. What was blind now sees. What was lame now walks. When we get the gift of Jesus, our lives are changed. The sign that Jesus has come is that people are changed. And this brings us great joy.
This week we’ve lit the rose candle, a symbol of joy. We celebrate the joy of the promise of God being fulfilled in the coming of the Christ child, and a light of future hope in his coming again. We wait patiently, taking as our example the prophets, in our struggles and sufferings. For we know we haven’t merely gone out to see a reed swayed by the wind, or someone dressed to the nines telling us things that tickle our ears to gain our support in their quest for power. We’ve gone out to hear the Good News that Christ is coming again. We’ve gone out, maybe expecting one thing, but gaining something so much better: the salvation of our souls, and the unfolding promise of a renewed life. A life filled with patient endurance, and the joy of the knowledge of our salvation, and the God who graciously gives it to us wrapped up in the most beautiful of wrappings: swaddling cloths.
Hear this good news: Jesus Christ has come, and he is coming again. Strengthen your hearts, and be patient, serving the Lord and feeding on him in your hearts by faith, and with thanksgiving. For we might die before his coming, but we shall all someday see that land for which he is preparing us, the place from where we have come into being, that Garden of goodness where our ancestors once tread.
In the name of God: The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.