sermon preached
at Church of the Good Shepherd, Federal Way, WA
by the
Rev. Josh Hosler, Rector
The
Second Sunday of Advent (Year C), December 9, 2018
What are you preparing for? Family to visit? A vacation elsewhere? Gift-giving? These are all such good things to do, and I’m doing some of them, too. But I’m glad you’re here today so we can all remember together the preparation we do in the Church at this time of year—preparation that can actually help us prepare for all these other things at the same time.
Advent is about keeping the main thing the main thing. And the main thing is to prepare a way.
Every week when we worship together in the Episcopal Church, we follow the same pattern: we arrive, give thanks to God, and then hear ancient words of wisdom from the Bible. Someone speaks to help us unpack those words. Then we proclaim our faith in God, say prayers together, receive assurance that all’s well between us and God, share some of what God has given us for the sake of others, and share a feast together. Finally, we take everything we’ve just experienced and let it change us as we go back out into the world. That’s our Main Thing. That’s the pattern.
Today is one of those rare occasions when instead of praying a Psalm after the first reading, we use a Canticle. A Canticle is a piece of poetry lifted directly out of some other portion of the Bible—in this case, it’s the Song of Zechariah from Luke’s version of the gospel.
You know, I’d never thought about it in quite this way before now, but the Bible is a bit like a Broadway musical: there are lots of occasions when people suddenly break out in song. After crossing through the Red Sea, Moses’ sister Miriam gives us what may be the very oldest fragment of Scripture there is: “Sing to the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously; horse and rider he has thrown into the sea.” You can almost hear the orchestra swell behind her. When Hannah discovers she is pregnant with Samuel, she bursts into song. The Song of Solomon is eight solid chapters of lovers singing sexy songs to each other. And in a couple weeks, we’ll hear Mary’s song, the Magnificat. These are just a few examples of times when a song brings the Main Thing to the forefront.
In Godly Play, our children are focusing today on the Holy Family: Mary and Joseph on their way to Bethlehem. But we need to back up a bit, because there was another holy family first. Before we say any more about John the Baptist, let’s refresh ourselves on his origins.
The Gospel according to Luke begins with Zechariah, a priest in the temple in Jerusalem. Zechariah’s wife Elizabeth is descended from Moses’ brother Aaron, the first priest of Israel. That makes them a pretty holy couple, but like so many couples throughout the Bible, they have suffered through decades of fertility challenges.
Zechariah doesn’t take the angel’s word for it, but asks—quite understandably, I think—“How will I know that this is so?” I mean, of course he knows about Abraham and Sarah, who conceived in their old age, but we never quite expect a miracle to happen to us, do we? Gabriel seems kind of miffed about Zechariah’s disbelief, so he strikes him dumb. Zechariah has to go through Elizabeth’s entire pregnancy not speaking a word. I’m not sure if that’s helpful to Elizabeth or not.
Finally, baby John is born, and when he is eight days old, his parents bring him to the temple for circumcision. Zechariah writes on a tablet, “His name is John.” And immediately he gets his voice back and sings the song we know as the Song of Zechariah. My favorite part comes at the end: “By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.”
This calls to mind words from the prophet Isaiah: “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” And the angel Gabriel’s reference to the “spirit of Elijah” makes me think of the prophet Malachi, who wrote, “I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes.” The Song of Zechariah gets at the main thing about Advent, and that is preparing. We are preparing for God’s appearing—for God’s presence to be made perfectly clear to us. For light to shine on those who need it most. For the “great and terrible day” when all will be set right—whatever that may mean. And as we prepare, we wait as patiently as we can.
So Zechariah sings his song. And John grows up, and then at a very specific time—“the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius,” which would be sometime in the late 20s—John appears in the wilderness by the Jordan River and begins proclaiming “a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” The gospel writer identifies John with a passage from the prophet Isaiah: “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord!”
You may know that the ancient Hebrew language contained not only no vowels, but also no punctuation. When Isaiah first wrote these words, he intended different punctuation. He didn’t place the voice in the wilderness. The wilderness was the place where the way of the Lord was to be prepared, as in: “The voice of one crying out, ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord!’” The wilderness between Babylon and Jerusalem would require a path by which the thousands and thousands of Jewish exiles could return home.
Centuries later, Luke plays with the punctuation intentionally to show that John, in the wilderness at the Jordan River, is calling people to come and be baptized: “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Prepare the way of the Lord!’”
John is Jesus’ opening act, and it’s an act that’s in keeping with the Main Thing the prophets wrote about: the restoration of the way things should be, with justice among people and right relationship between people and God. This restoration is not something we can bring about all by ourselves: it is God’s work to do. But we can prepare the way. We can till the ground for the planting of seeds. We wait, but we wait actively by pursuing justice.
This is John’s greatest concern: that people repent of the injustices they have perpetuated and are party to and come to be baptized as a symbolic starting over. John knows that he himself is not the Main Thing: he is only laying the groundwork.
In the couple weeks that remain of this season of Advent, how can you keep the main thing the main thing? How can you pursue justice while waiting for God to arrive? Our secular culture comes to your rescue: at this time of year, many people give charitable gifts. Maybe Advent can teach us about giving away what others will need more. Or better yet, can you find a way to give gifts more directly, by hosting our guests at the women’s shelter, for instance?
Justice also implies reconciliation: are you due for a conversation with someone from whom you’ve become estranged or just drifted away? Is it time to get more honest with yourself about something you haven’t been dealing with? Advent is a great time to sit in silence. That might sound ridiculous when the to-do lists are so long. But time simply spent in God’s presence can act as fuel to help us focus on all the other responsibilities in our lives when we take them up again.
As John cries out in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the LORD!,” we can choose to heed the call 2000 years later. Prepare the way with silence and peace. Prepare the way with honesty and reconciliation. Prepare the way with justice for the oppressed. Prepare the way for the Main Thing: the arrival of God among us with tender mercy, like the dawn breaking upon us, “to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” Amen.
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