Advent 3, Year C
Zephaniah 3:14-20
Canticle 9, The First Song of Isaiah
Philippians 4:4-7
Luke 3:7-18
"Blessed Advent, you brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? As we gather together this Sunday and light the rose candle, symbolizing our joy for the coming of Christ, the Gospel passage we read from Luke seems wholly incongruous to the spirit of the season. This passage about wrath and unquenchable fire seems like a perplexing choice alongside our passages from Zephaniah and Philippians that are all about rejoicing. I imagine it like a doomsaying street preacher tagging along with a group of Christmas carolers; as they go from house to house singing “Joy to the World,” our metaphorical John stands in the background with a sign proclaiming, “The End is Near!”
There is no season in our church calendar that is both so misunderstood and so neglected as Advent. Instead of a distinct season in its own right, it inevitably becomes a four-week warm-up to the “main event.” Instead of a time of penance, patience, and quiet reflection, it is a chaotic mad dash to fulfill our Christmas obligations to one another: decorating, cooking, baking, buying gifts, and writing cards. I am just as guilty as the rest of us: constantly behind on my Advent devotionals, popping two or three pieces of calendar chocolate in my mouth at a time because there just aren’t enough hours in the day. I just can’t keep up. I don’t have time. And then that quiet voice of the Holy Spirit reminds me, “You would always have time if you put it first.”
So in the spirit of Advent, I would like us to today not think of Christmas at all. Christmas is a gift waiting under the tree, obscured by wrapping, its contents unknown to us. It has our names on it, but we have no idea what to expect. We have no idea what is coming. Instead of four weeks that go by in the blink of an eye, I want us to think of Advent as the span of thousands of years, beginning when mankind first sinned in the Garden, and ending when Mary cradled her newborn child in a stable in Bethlehem. I want us to consider all of the devastation and endless calamity that had been visited upon mankind, and especially upon God’s chosen people of Israel in that time as a consequence of their sin. They endured the Great Flood, enslavement in Egypt, wandering in the desert, and invasion and enslavement again in Assyria and in Babylon following the destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple. And each time a calamity such as these has come, God has lifted up a great man or woman to remind the people “This isn’t all there is. There can be more for you.” There is a gift under the tree, waiting to be given to those who come before God with humble hearts prepared to accept him.
As I meditated on John’s fiery words, I was reminded of the words of the prophet Malachi. Listen to this passage from Malachi 3, and notice how similar it is to John’s words in Luke 3: “’Look! I am sending my messenger, and he will prepare the way before me. Then the Lord you are seeking will suddenly come to his Temple. The messenger of the covenant, whom you look for so eagerly, is surely coming,’ says the Lord of Heaven’s Armies. But who will be able to endure it when he comes? Who will be able to stand and face him when he appears? For he will be like a blazing fire that refines metal, or like a strong soap that bleaches clothes…At that time I will put you on trial. I am eager to witness against all sorcerers and adulterers and liars. I will speak against those who cheat employees of their wages, who oppress widows and orphans, or who deprive the foreigners living among you of justice, for these people do not fear me…”
We don’t often think of Jesus as “a blazing fire that refines metal, or like a strong soap that bleaches clothes.” We tend to think of Jesus as a patient, kind, and loving teacher—and he is most certainly all of those things, but the reason he came to earth was to purify our hearts and make us worthy vessels for the presence of God. This is what John means when he says, “I baptize you with water…He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.” Christ is coming to save, but salvation requires destruction. It requires us to burn away all the wickedness in our lives that puts distance between us and God. In Malachi 4, the final chapter of the final book of the Old Testament, this theme continues: “The Lord of Heaven’s Armies says, ‘The day of judgment is coming, burning like a furnace. On that day the arrogant and the wicked will be burned up like straw. They will be consumed—roots, branches, and all. But for you who fear my name, the Sun of Righteousness will rise with healing in his wings. And you will go free, leaping with joy like calves let out to pasture.”
Perhaps we have become complacent in preparing our hearts because we think we know how this story ends. After all, two thousand years ago Christ came to earth and then died for our sins. Perhaps because of this we celebrate Advent less as a season of anticipation and preparation, and more as a season of commemoration. Unlike the ancient Israelites who lived in anxiety and hope of deliverance, the path to salvation has been revealed to us, and we can secure our place in the Kingdom of God. But as I was reflecting on the doom and gloom that seems to pervade Advent lessons, I came across an article written three years ago by the Episcopal priest, theologian, and author Fleming Rutledge. In it she recalled how for a couple hundred years, apocalyptic passages in the Bible, even including those words attributed to Jesus himself, were dismissed as inauthentic additions and not considered serious. It wasn’t until the mid-20th century that Biblical scholars began to really reevaluate this perspective. Not coincidentally, it was also the mid-20th century—1944, specifically—that the word “genocide” first emerged in the English lexicon. In the 20th century alone, we witnessed two world wars, 21 separate instances of genocide, one of the deadliest pandemics in human history, and the creation of the deadliest weapons in the history of mankind. In my lifetime, there have been at least five separate genocides, including two still ongoing in China and Myanmar. Climate change has taken its place next to nuclear weapons as another existential threat to the continued existence of human life. And of course, yet another pandemic has killed almost 800,000 Americans and sickened almost 50 million more. Every one of us, at multiple times in our lives, has seen what a fragile world we live in. Each of us has seen a vision of our mortality. Just a few years ago, some of you may recall that an erroneous alert in Hawaii warned the people there that a North Korean ballistic missile was inbound. This was only a few months after I had left, and afterward I spoke to a number of friends who were still there when it happened. “What did you do?” I asked them. All of them replied back the same way: “What can you do?”
Maybe that’s what some of you are feeling now as I’ve piled on the dour and the dire. “What can we do?” Even before the ministry of Christ had begun, John knew from the words of the prophets what we all must do to make our hearts ready for God’s grace. We must “bear fruits worthy of repentance.” We must stop hurting the people around us, both by what we do to them and by what we withhold from them. We must stop putting ourselves before our neighbors, and before God. Our fruits of repentance must be faithfulness and love because any lesser fruits offered to God are like the sickly and blind rams offered as sacrifices in Malachi’s time. Anything less than the transformation of our whole selves is insincere. Can we truly afford to be insincere in what we offer God? When we lie and cheat one another, when we hurt each other physically and emotionally, when we do anything to one another that makes this dark world a little darker, we bear poisoned fruits and unworthy sacrifices. As Malachi again says in chapter 2: “Are we not all children of the same Father? Are we not all created by the same God? Then why do we betray each other, violating the covenant of our ancestors?”
Most of us have modest influence in the world around us, but that does not mean that we should feel discouraged by our reach, for we are not alone. Our examples can be a respite for those seeking comfort in the midst of all this fear, anxiety, and tribulation. Our hearts can prepare the way for the next Advent, and that is a cause for rejoicing. For the Good News we will receive on Christmas Day is that Christ has come and promised salvation to all who believe in him. That is our Christmas present. But there is another gift waiting too. We do not know when we will get to open it, but we do know that on that day we will see “a new heaven and a new earth, for the old heaven and the old earth had passed away.” We will see “the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband.” And we will hear “a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” So with prayer and penitence, humble hearts and good works—and yes, with rejoicing—let us celebrate Advent not focused on what has already come for us, but focused instead on what is yet to come. Amen."