Don't Fear the Fire: A Homily for the Third Sunday of Advent

Preached at All Saints, Collingwood, Anglican Diocese of Toronto, 15 December, 2024, the Third Sunday of Advent.

Texts for Advent 3C:Zephaniah 3:14-20; Canticle 3 (Isaiah 12:2-6); Philippians 4:4-7; Luke 3:7-18

His winnowing fork is in his hand to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” Luke 3:17)

Towards the end of our worship today, you will hear a funny little song about the desirability of heat amidst the cold of winter.   Yes, warmth is desirable, but in today’s gospel, we hear John the Baptist describe a fire that none of us would want to come close to.  Combined with the mention of the axes, and the fate of trees that don’t bear good fruit, the imagery in John the Baptist’s sermon feels downright threatening.    The implied message might be taken to be:  “Please God, or else …”

Fortunately, I don’t think we need to hear the gospel this way.   The gospel of Jesus Christ is always good news, and today is no exception.  Today I want to suggest that the chaff and the unfruitful trees destined for destruction are in fact that the things - poverty, oppression, violence - that hinder God’s coming reign of peace and justice

Advent is always about the coming of God.  Advent looks ahead to Jesus, the Word made flesh, but Advent also keeps one eye pointed at a more distant horizon, which in scripture is called the Day of the Lord, or which we sometimes call the Second Coming.   Whereas our waiting for Jesus the Babe of Bethlehem is always joyful, the promised coming of Jesus the Lord of Heaven can seem ominous.  Last Sunday, we heard the prophet Malachi ask, “But who can endure the day of his coming, and who can stand when he appears?” (Mal 3.2).

The answer, says Malachi, is that no one can stand except for those God loves.   The encounter with God is transformative.   God will clean us and change us for the better - hence Malachi’s images of fire and soap - but it is not a thing to be feared.  Like dirty children grimacing at the approaching washcloth, we will be scrubbed but we will emerge with shining faces.  Just as a parent lovingly washes a child, so God comes to us.  God’s purposes are always loving, and God’s coming is always reason for rejoicing.

Today, the third Sunday of Advent, is associated with joy.   That theme wends its way through our first three readings like a thread of gold.   The prophet Zepahaniah promises that God will forgive his people, gathering the scattered, rescuing us, singing over us like a lover.  “I will deal with your oppressors”, says the prophet, and for Paul, writing from prison to a persecuted church, the promise of freedom from oppression was real.  Rejoice, Paul tells them.   Be at peace, knowing that God guards you and watches over you.   For Paul, God’s nearness is reason for joy, not fear.

So our correct response to Advent is to celebrate.  We give thanks that Jesus loves us enough to come and be with us.  We hold our heads high, we look expectantly for our Saviour, we rejoice, we sing.  As we heard Isaiah say in our canticle this morning, “Surely it is God who saves me;  I will trust in him and not be afraid” (Is 12:3).  But if Advent is joyous, what do are we supposed to make of the axe and fire language in our gospel, because, as we’ve noted, it can be rather alarming.

John tells the crowds, “Bear fruits worthy of repentance” (Lk 3:8).     Now there are several ways we can understand repentance.  It can mean feeling sorry or ashamed of bad things we might have done, but there’s a more helpful way of understanding repentance.  Think of what happens when you take your car in for a wheel alignment.  The mechanic checks that your tires are all pointing in the same direction, so that you can drive safely.    Think of repentance as us aligning ourselves with God’s purposes, so that we live and move with God and towards God.   

Some of us have long since figured out how to live this sort of life.  They’re the prayer warriors, they have a serenity and faithfulness that others find deeply attractive and inspiring.  Others are still figuring it out.   In our gospel reading today, the question asked repeatedly is “What the should we do?”  For the crowds, the tax collectors, and the soldiers, this question comes from the recognition that God is righteousness and justice.  John’s answers are simple:  share your stuff, deal fairly with others, don’t cheat and rob them.   John’s answers anticipate Jesus’ teaching, “Love God and love your neighbour as yourself”.

“What should we do then” is the question that comes out of the realization that we have strayed far from God’s path, and the answer can lead those who have strayed back to that path.   God’s justice and righteousness go hand in hand with forgiveness.   Our world needs justice and forgiveness in equal measure.    These last few weeks we’ve seen people freed from terrible and evil prisons in Syria, death factories into which tens of thousands have vanished.    This is the sort of evil that we yearn for God to uproot.  We want God’s axe to come, we want the secret prisons and the torture chambers torn up and thrown into God’s fire.   

But where God’s justice goes, God’s forgiveness follows. John’s message changed the hearts and lives of the crowds, tax collectors, and soldiers.  Don’t we long for that same message to work in our world again?   Imagine a day when secret policemen and torturers will say, “What then should we do?”   Let us long for a day when warlords, gangsters, and sex traffickers will say, “What then should we do?”  Let us pray for a day when corrupt judges, crooked politicians, and tyrants will say “What then should we do?”

To fear the coming of God is to misunderstand John’s message.  John promises that God will burn the chaff with unquenchable fire.   If we see the chaff as those worthless and evil things that stand against God’s purposes  - things like greed, oppression, cruelty, and violence - then Advent promises a day when those things will be banished so that God’s reign of peace and justice can flourish.   Advent is a time of rejoicing for those who are aligned with God’s purposes in the world.   Advent is a time of hope and encouragement for those who feel God’s call to change their lives.   And Advent is a time of promise for all of us, even when it seems that we wait in darkness, a time of promise that the dawn from on high shall break upon us.

Come, Lord Jesus, come.

Knowledge of Salvation: A Homily for the Second Sunday of Advent

 Preached at Prince of Peace, Wasaga Beach, and Church of the Good Shepherd, Stayner, Sunday, December 8, 2024.  Texts for this Sunday (Yr C): Mal 3.1-4; C 19 (Lk 1:68-79); Phil 1:3-11; Lk 3:1-6.

 

⁷⁶And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, ⁷⁷to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins. (Like 1:78-79)

“To give knowledge of salvation”.   These words are given by the Holy Spirit to the priest Zechariah after the birth of his son John, who we know as John the Baptist.   Now the birth of John to two aged and infertile parents was miraculous enough, but, says Zechariah, an even greater miracle is coming and John will be its messenger.    John will bring “knowledge of salvation” to his people by the forgiveness of their sins”.

Advent is, as I said last Sunday, many things besides a Christmas countdown.   Chiefly, I think, it is when we the church celebrate the message of the John, spoken in the wilderness, that we “shall see the salvation of God” (Lk 3.6).   Advent is about salvation, and Advent tells is that salvation is something real and certain and factual, something that we can have knowledge about and something that we can see with our own eyes.

Salvation is what we celebrate.   It’s what we’re all about as church and as disciples of the one we call our Saviour, Jesus Christ.  So what does “knowledge of salvation” mean to you?   What does salvation look like to you.   Do we understand salvation?  Can we be certain of our salvation ?   Can we explain salvation to others?

This last week I had the amazing experience of being in a room full of people who know what their salvation looks like and who can talk about salvation with confidence.

I met these people at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, the first one I’ve ever attended.   Someone who is dear to me had asked me to come as a guest and see them receive their One Year Sober medallion.   I was not prepared for what a powerful experience this would prove to be. There was so much spirituality, honesty, courage and love in the room that I walked away thinking, “if church was like this, we’d have standing room only on Sundays”.

Here's three things that I admired about these people.  

First, I admired their total honesty.  Every one who speaks has to begin by admitting their addiction: “Hello, I’m Joe, and I’m an alcoholic”.   Each time someone introduced themselves that way, it didn’t seem rote to me.   Each speaker seemed to recognize that they had been in the thrall of something dark and powerful that had blighted their lives.   Often they spoke with a fearlessness that took my breath away. 

The guest speaker, a former policeman, told of how he had hit bottom in his career, about to be fired as a hopeless drunk, and one night he found himself on a meaningless duty in his cruiser with his gun in his mouth while trying to pray the AA serenity prayer.  As he said in his simple, matter of fact way, he felt that prayer was answered, and day by day since then he turned his life around.  That man knew about salvation.

Secondly, I admired their belief in a higher power.  You don’t have to be a Christian to be an AA member.  In fact, the person who invited me calls themselves an atheist.   However, if you know addiction is a power that can control you, as every AA member is painfully aware, then it stands to reason that you believe in a higher power (addiction), and so you believe only an even higher power can save you. 

In place of our psalm this morning, we heard the Canticle from Luke’s gospel, when old Zechariah blesses his son John the Baptizer and Herald of God.  Zechariah says “In the tender compassion of our God the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shone on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace” (Lk 1.78-79).  That cop with the gun in his mouth eventually passed out, and woke in the morning with his gun on his lap.  In his despair he had reached out to the God of compassion and in the breaking dawn he found a new life waiting for him.  That man knew who had saved him.

Finally, I admired the love in that room.    Everyone in that room showed obvious and sincere love and support for one another.   I don’t think you could stand up and speak with such vulnerability and honesty without that love and support.  People spoke with pride of how far they had seen one another come, and what a difference they had seen AA make in one another.   I saw this especially in the sponsors, for every AA new AA member is paired with an experienced member, usually an older person, who promises to be there day and night to offer support, help, and advice. 

I think that of that night when I hear St. Paul in our epistle today pray that God make the Philippian church “overflow more and more with [love] and knowledge and full insight” (Phil 1:9).   I think had Paul been there, he would have thanked God for what he saw in that AA meeting.  In fact, another invited guest there with me, a person who knows nothing about church or faith, said afterwards, “I don’t drink but I want to join this group, just because they’re such nice people!”  These people took joy in their salvation.

In summary, these people knew they needed saving, they knew who it was who had saved them, and they took joy in one another’s salvation.   I came away grateful to God for this experience, but as I said I also left wondering how attractive church would be if church people acted this way.

There are reasons why we don’t act this way, of course.    Some are just cultural.  Anglicans are usually restrained people, we let the liturgy carry our emotions and feelings for us, and we don’t use the language of “being saved” or “being born again”.   Fair enough.   Christianity is a big family, and different denominations have different spiritual gifts and languages.

I wonder, though, if we just haven’t thought enough about what salvation really means.    Do we think of salvation as a customs inspection, where our passport of faith and good deeds on earth are checked before we can enter heaven?  If so, then I suggest that this afterlife-based understanding of salvation is impoverished, and ignores Jesus’ many calls to think about the kingdom of heaven as happening in the here and now.

One of my favourite ways of thinking about salvation comes from Jesus’ words in John’s gospel: “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly” (Jn 10.10).    There are so many dark things and forces in our world that steal and destroy the best things in life.  Addiction is one, as our AA friends know all too well.  But we can find ourselves also hurt and isolated, distrustful, without meaning or purpose or hope, overwhelmed by guilt and self-hatred and doubting that God, if God exists, could ever love us and forgive us.

My friends, this Advent, I encourage you to ask yourselves, what does salvation mean for me?    What is it that I can’t control or handle by myself that I need God’s help with?   Have you asked God for help?  Have you prayed, simply and urgently, for salvation?  I believe that salvation is there for the asking, and there are lots of people in our church who could help you pray for it.

If you know what salvation looks like, if you’ve experienced God’s help and power, then I encourage you to ask yourself,  do I show joy in my salvation?  Do I rejoice that others are here with me, here in the family of God?  Have I done what I could to come alongside someone who is seeking salvation, to be a friend, mentor, and companion?

Let me finish with the same thought I finished with last week.   A church that could talk about salvation with the same confidence and knowledge that an AA meeting talks about salvation would be an awesome and attractive place, because joy and confidence in salvation is the best form of evangelism.

Keeping Our Heads Up: A Homily for the First Sunday of Advent

Keeping Our Heads Up:  A Homily for the First Sunday of Advent

Preached at All Saints, Collingwood, Anglican Diocese of Toronto, 1 December, 2024.  Readings for Advent 1C: Jeremiah 33:14-16; Psalm 25:1-9; 1 Thessalonians 3:9-13; Luke 21:25-36

Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” (Lk 21.28)

In my first parish, there was an old gentleman named Tom who would often say goodbye with these words: “Keep your stick on the ice and your head up going into the corners”.  It’s good advice for hockey players:  be ready for the puck but also be aware when you’re vulnerable to being checked.  It’s also good advice for Advent.   Hockey and Advent are both about being ready and being alert.  Today I would like to think about how Advent invites us to be spiritually ready for the Savour whose coming we long for and should await with confidence rather than fear.

Readiness, the Advent idea of preparation and getting ready,  I think we can all understand.  There is a satisfaction in hanging lights, wreaths and greenery, even as we sometimes debate the appropriate date to decorate! There’s a joy in seeing the church decorated by faithful hands, and knowing that more - the tree and the creche - is still to come.   As the beloved Advent hymn says, “make your house fair as you are able, trim the hearth and set the table”.    Just as we prepare for friends and family, Advent calls us to prepare our hearts to welcome our beloved, Jesus, for again to quote the hymn, “love the guest is on the way”.

Advent is also a way to understand exactly who it is that we are getting ready for and why that’s important.   Advent is a gentle correction to our cozy and sometimes sentimental ideas about baby Jesus in the manger, who comes predictably in late December.   This season reminds us that that babe is also the king of the universe, the holy one of Israel, the Lord of justice and righteousness that Jeremiah spoke of in our first lesson.   Advent reminds us that just as he came to Bethlehem, so this Lord of righteousness will come again. 

Jesus tells his disciples in today’s gospel that they will see  “the Son of Man coming in a cloud' with power and great glory”, which shouldn’t come as a surprise to us, because Sunday by Sunday we acknowledge Christ’s return.  Likewise our Advent hymns have words like “Lo, he comes, with clouds descending”, to remind us that we do await the coming again of Jesus in glory.     Jesus tells his friends that they may see signs of this final day,  but he warns them to “be on guard” and “be alert at all times”.  This theme of alertness and vigilance is quite common in scripture.   Paul tells the Thessalonians that “the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night” (1 Th 5.2) and warns them to stay awake spiritually.

What does this mean for us?    How are we supposed to stay awake spiritually?  Should we scan the headlines for signs of the Second Coming, as some Christians do? (No, I don’t think so).  I would say instead that we can be spiritually awake and alert without being fearful or anxious about the end times.   Our faith should not make us nervous wrecks!    Part of being Christian is to wake each day knowing that God is Lord of heaven and earth, that all is in God’s hands, and that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.  Always hang on to those truths!

I believe that spiritual alertness is actually not so much about waiting for the Second Coming as it is about being open to signs of God’s presence in our lives.   Jesus promises us that he will always be very much with us, here, in the present.  We meet Jesus at the altar during communion.    Through the Holy Spirit we can pray with Jesus, even imagine him in conversation with us as Rev Amy preached here recently.    As individuals and as church, we need to be open to what Jesus through the Spirit is calling us to do, watching for signs of God’s activity in the community, listening for calls to new ministries.    

This kind of spiritual alertness requires that we keep our heads up and our ears and hearts open to the Spirit’s promptings.   This receptiveness to God’s actions is what scripture calls wakefulness, and the opposite is that we are spiritually asleep, switched off and oblivious to God’s presence.  Remember that Jesus told his friends to see that their hearts are not “weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life”.    In his online Advent teaching last Tuesday, Bishop Andrew talked about the many ways that people can dull their spiritual senses through self-medication, consumerism, and anxiety.  When we’re sleepy, depressed, or when we lose hope, our heads tend to droop. Jesus wants believers whose heads stay up and whose hearts and ears are open to his voice.

As an aside, I think there is another kind of dullness of sleepiness that we can fall prey to, and that is indifference to the world around us.   We have ample signs that the world is corrupt, unjust, inequitable, and cruel.   We can easily numb ourselves to these things or ignore them.  But, as we heard Jeremiah say in our first lesson, our Lord is justice and righteousness.  Part of being spiritually wakeful is caring about and striving for justice and caring about our neighbour, as God surely does.

The final thing I want to talk about is confidence.  Jesus said, “Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near”.    When we hold our heads up, we display confidence and assurance, it’s a sign that we’re not just alert but we are unafraid, even amidst the kind of troubles that Jesus describes.   Jesus promised that we would live in fearful times, and he was right.   We live amidst wars and natural disasters, climate change and political anxiety, but Jesus says, even so, keep your heads up.

We keep our heads up because Advent reminds us that we wait and hope for God in good company.  Noah waited and hoped for the flood waters to recede until the dove returned with the olive branch.    Simeon and Anna waited and hoped for salvation and finally saw the baby Jesus in the Temple.   John the Baptist waited for the Messiah until they met at the Jordan and the dove came down from heaven.   All these people waited and hoped because they knew God was faithful and would rescue them.   So we keep our heads up because we look to God who is faithful for our rescue and our salvation.

Finally, we keep our heads up because we know that in Jesus we can see God face to face.   Jesus telling his followers to “raise your heads” must have been a remarkable thing at the time.  It must have been dangerous for a Jew to look a Roman in the face, or for a slave not to keep their eyes lowered before the master.   Learning how not to be seen is a survival technique for people at the bottom, But Jesus is saying, even when you see God returning in glory, raise your heads.  Don’t be ashamed of yourselves or of your sins.   Paul prays that the Thessalonians “may be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus”, and so can we, because of the love and forgiveness shown to us by God through the babe born in Bethlehem, the Lord of Heaven and Earth.

And so, dear saints, let us remind ourselves this Advent to be spiritually ready, awake, and confident in God’s faithfulness.  Let’s listen to how God is calling us, let’s be attentive to what God is doing around us, and let’s be unafraid despite what might happen around us, for God is faithful, Jesus has come, Jesus is with us now, and Jesus will come again.   Or, as my old friend Tom liked to say, “Keep your stick on the ice and your head up going into the corners”.