Third Sunday in Advent, Year C

Donna G. Joy 

Abraham Joshua Heschel was a man who was haunted by God. The lyrics of his poetry are steeped in the mystic’s longing to tear away the curtain that often conceals God’s radiance, and God’s tears. In his book ‘The Ineffible Name of God’ he writes of a God who comes and who will change the world…

                   People’s eyes wait for me

like candle wicks for a light.

 

                   Shamed brothers (and sisters) beg my help,

deceived sisters dream of consolation.

 

                   And I, with stubborn boldness, have promised

that I will increase tenderness in this world –

 

                   and it seems to me that I will, in time

move on through this earth

with the brightness of all the stars

in my eyes!*

During this past week, as I was working towards preparing today’s sermon, I found myself discovering a common thread that runs throughout each of the readings. That is: the anticipation/expectation that God is about to break into each of our lives and into the world in new and surprising ways. God is with us always and yet, at the same time, about to break into each of our lives. Then, I found myself also focusing on two primary pieces within the gospel for today: (1) John the Baptizer calling the gathered crowd to repent – to cleanse themselves from sin – to turn their lives around so that they may be ready to receive this in-breaking of God into their lives; and (2) John’s definition of repentance (turning their lives around) which, in effect, seems to be to turn our attention away from ourselves and toward the needs of others. So, on Friday as I was attempting to prepare a sermon from the notes I had made throughout the week, I received word from my son and daughter-in-law that there had been 20 children and 6 adults fatally shot in a Connecticut elementary school; that a deeply troubled young man took aim and ended the lives of 26 people in that school. It is – for most of us – impossible to imagine the devastation, grief and horror that the family members, friends and community of those who were fatally shot must be feeling. Devastation, horror and grief over the death of innocent young children who had their whole lives to look forward to, and over the death of adults who were in the process of devoting themselves to help educate and nurture those precious, young lives. And, at the same time, this news has sent shock waves far beyond that small town in Connecticut. My daughter-in-law joined countless others in returning home earlier than usual to give our precious Dylan a kiss and a hug. Teachers, principals, school psychologists here in Winnipeg joined countless others in acknowledging that no one is fully protected from this type of tragic event. Children everywhere who hear this news will very likely wonder if this could happen to them. And, in addition to all this, I’ve heard people express deep and profound anger; anger over a constitution that allows such easy and widespread ownership of weapons such as guns; anger over a system that is not equipped to identify the signs that this gunman may have been exhibiting as he grew closer to embarking on this terrible act of violence.

Well, needless to say, the carefully crafted sermon I had been preparing up to that point was suddenly thrown into a state of turmoil and flux. Where, after all, is the good news of Jesus’ coming to be found in the face of such evil, and sadness, and grief?

We, in the church, receive this news within the context of the Season of Advent; a season during which we are in the midst of preparing for the peace, hope and joy that has come into the world in Jesus, and for which we also wait and prepare. But Friday, late afternoon, in the midst of preparing this sermon for today, when I received the news of this incomprehensible shooting, I wondered where on earth I could find signs of presence and the coming of God in Christ. What such signs could possibly be found in the midst of such violence and hatred? So I decided that a good place to start is to search for signs of God’s peace, hope and joy, because tragedies such as what occurred on Friday serve as important reminders that it is signs such as these that carry us through such dark and difficult times.

Advent is the time for ‘being alert’, ‘being awake’, ‘being watchful’, and about preparing ourselves spiritually to celebrate once again the birth of the Christ-child. Our recurring theme this Advent has been waiting, and preparing for the coming of Jesus. Over the past three weeks we have been following an Advent Candle Lighting ritual. The first week we lit the candle of peace, recalling God’s desire that peace be within us and among us, and searching for peace in a world which seems regularly so devoid of it. This peace we seek is a deep peace which only God can bring about – God’s shalom – a peace which incorporates justice and integrity, a peace which must be visible through each of us.

On the Second Sunday in Advent we lit the candle of hope, praying that the flame of hope may always burn within us. It was the hope of God’s transforming power taking hold, transforming the darkness of despair and misery into a new and radiant light. It was this hope which the prophets spoke of, the hope that God cares for creation enough to want to break in and transform it. And it was the reminder that we could be signs of hope by the way we live our lives, the choices we make, the attitudes we choose to have. And today on this Third Sunday in Advent we lit the candle of joy: the joy that was experienced through the birth of God’s own son, Jesus, and the joy we await in his coming again.

In the midst of such tragic events as the massive shooting on Friday we search for signs of peace, hope and joy – signs of God’s kingdom breaking in to the world. And as followers/disciples of Jesus, we prepare ourselves to be ready for this coming.

In our Gospel reading this morning, John the Baptizer is addressing the crowd that has come to be baptized. In Luke’s Gospel those in the crowd included common, regular people, tax collectors, and Roman soldiers who have considerable authority. John wants them to know that God is about to break into the world in a surprising new way, and they must prepare themselves for this great event. Baptism, in and of itself is not enough, they must first repent. He calls them a “brood of vipers”, and seriously calls them to repent. Clearly the people are listening and taking him seriously, because they respond with the question, “What, then, should we do?” And he replies, “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.” In other words, “be generous.” Generosity is a sign of God breaking in to the world.

St. Paul in his letter to the people of Philippi encourages them to, “Rejoice, be gentle, do not worry, be prayerful and in all things give thanks. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Gentleness, faith, prayer and gratitude are signs of God breaking in to the world.

The prophet Zephaniah is addressing a messy and wayward people who have turned their back on God and even though part of his message is one of judgement, he goes beyond this and conveys a message of hope, and joy and a promise of peace. He says, “Rejoice and exult with all your heart!” Even in these wayward, sinful people the prophet sees signs of God breaking in to the world.

And, again, as we return to our gospel for this week, we recognize that it carries on from last Sunday’s gospel, and we again hear about John the Baptizer and his message – a call to repentance, a call to shake people out of their complacency, their arrogance, their selfishness, and their pride. And, in fact, each of us needs to hear this message; this message to repent, to turn around, to turn our attention away from ourselves and toward God and the needs of others. As we prepare for the renewed and refreshed coming of Jesus we are called to be cleansed of those things that prevent us from receiving this great gift. John knew that God was near, that the kingdom of God was at hand, and so felt the urgency of the call to repentance. His call to that selfish, arrogant people was to repent, turn around, to change their ways – to be transformed into a caring, generous people, who would ‘walk the extra mile’ for one another. 

The good news of Advent, even in the midst of the most devastating tragedies, is that God is coming to us, not to destroy, but to refine us, to help us become what we were meant to be. It is God’s great gift to us: to grace us with the strength to turn our lives around – to turn our attention away from ourselves – to turn toward God and the needs of others. This turning of our attention away from ourselves and toward the needs of God and others, with God’s help, is what will open our eyes to see and experience the coming of God particularly in the midst of the darkest of times.

One of my favourite books as a child was ‘Little Women’ – the story of a family with four young girls growing up in relative poverty in Massachusetts in the early 1800’s. I, as a child growing up each year with beautifully decorated Christmas trees under which there were always too many presents and Christmas dinners that were both delicious and plentiful, was always intrigued with that scene where the four young girls discover the joy of Christmas (dare I say the in-breaking of God into the world) when they sacrifice their own sparse breakfast in order to feed, and nurture and care for an even more poverty stricken family on Christmas morning. And, in so doing, they were – at least in part - engaged in the act of repentance: they themselves were feeling hungry, but they turned their attention away from themselves and toward God and the needs of others. And, in so doing, they discover hope, joy and peace in ways they could have never expected.

So, as I was pondering all of this in light of Friday’s tragedy, it occurred to me that the in-breaking of God is, indeed, there to be found. I believe that we see God in all those who selflessly sacrificed their own safety and comfort all for the sake of others, and this becomes an Advent inspiration to each of us as we discern how we also may turn our attention away from ourselves – toward God and the needs of others. People often ask the question – how can we possibly believe in a loving God who allows such atrocities to occur, and this, of course is a more than reasonable question. I however suggest that God was there. In the midst of the terrified chaos, I believe that God was breaking in, and the best way I can identify how is to share with you a reflection from Thom Shuman, Presbyterian Pastor in the U.S. and Associate Member of the Iona Community,

“Once again, we are reminded about the meaning of this bleak midwinter we call Advent.  For God did not come to create a greeting card industry, nor so we could string lights on houses and trees.  God did not become one of us so we might have office parties and give people things they don't really need.  God was not born so songs could be written and sermons preached. God came for such mornings as this, after the long night of anguished tossing and turning, with visions of horror dancing in our heads.  God came to walk with us as we wander the streets of our hearts asking, 'how? why? 

God came to huddle with terrified children in closets where school supplies are stored, and to give teachers the strength not to show their worst fears.
 

God came to cradle the wounded and the dying, so they would know they were not abandoned in that loneliest of moments.
 

God came to give the first responders the courage to walk into the unspeakable, willing to put themselves between danger and little children.
 

God came to gather the parents and grandparents up into the divine lap of comfort and hope, even as their arms would no longer be able to embrace their child.  

God came to weep with us even when we have run out of tears, to stand next to us with the same look of horror and disbelief.
 

God came for mornings such as this, with the same haggard face, with the same questions, with the same anger, with the same sense of loss and hopelessness, but with deep wells of grace from which we can drink, with compassion which will never end, with comforting arms which will not grow weary, with hope which stretches from everlasting to everlasting." 

May the peace of God which passes all understanding, be with you.  Amen.

*"People's Eyes Wait" from The Ineffable Name of God: Man, Abraham Joshua Heschel, p.33