Sunday, December 11, 2022
Rt. Rev. Judy Kahler-Jalbert
Grace to you and peace from God and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Please pray with me. May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight O Lord, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen. Psalm 19:14
The third Sunday of Advent in the ancient calendar of the church is known as Gaudate Sunday or Joyous Sunday. Gaudate, meaning rejoice, is derived from the opening Latin words of the introit antiphon, which says, “Rejoice in the Lord always.” (Gaudete) The rose-colored candle that we lit this morning indicates a joyful feast day.
Pastor Pam told us all on the first Sunday of Advent that Advent is not ---- a countdown to Christmas, -- but is in fact a pilgrimage. Joyful Sunday is an invitation to pause in that pilgrimage, to take a spiritual inventory and remind ourselves that the Kingdom of God is in fact near us.
Throughout the Advent season, Isaiah is our shepherd, reminding us weekly of the coming of the Messiah and the characteristics of His Kingdom. This morning we also read of the Visitation of Mary and her cousin Elizabeth who is pregnant with John the Baptist. We hear that when the two women greeted each other, the baby John leapt in Elizabeth’s womb because of the presence of Mary’s child in utero – The Messiah. Mary responds with the ancient joyful words of the Magnificat, reminding us that the Lord has done great things.
Throughout history, poor and oppressed people have often identified with this song — the longest set of words spoken by a woman in the New Testament and not just any woman, but a poor, young, pregnant woman who is the mother of God.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German pastor and theologian who was executed by the Nazis, called the Magnificat “the most passionate, the wildest, one might even say the most revolutionary hymn ever sung.”
So powerful and filled with Joy and encouragement for the oppressed, that the Magnificat has been viewed as dangerous by many people in power. In countries such as Argentina, Guatemala and India, the Magnificat has been banned for reading in public.
Because of its powerful call to joy and because it is such a source of hope to people who are discouraged, we recite it publicly this morning because as a church we are charged, as Mary was, to identify joy in the midst of dark times.
So, one might wonder, why on this third Advent Sunday does the Lectionary include the story of John’s despair in prison?
Two schools of thought marked the teachings of the Jewish people who speculated on what it would be like when the Messiah finally arrived to rule the world. Both are reflected in our readings for today. The first theme is that the Messiah would focus on chastisement and correction – and lay an axe to the root of the tree. We see this reflected in the words of the Magnificat: He will scatter the proud in their conceit, bring down the rulers from their thrones, and send the rich away hungry. Or as Isaiah says, “he will come with vengeance, and with divine retribution.”
In the other school of thought, also reflected in the Magnificat, and in Isaiah, the Messiah was expected to show mercy, to lift up the humble and fill the hungry with good things. He would set people free by giving shelter to the homeless, offering healing for the lame, sight to the blind and hearing to the deaf.
To judge from his preaching, John the Baptist fell in line with those who expected that the Messiah would come with fire and brimstone, with a winnowing fork in hand, to exercise judgment. John preached vehemently against the corrupt religious and political leaders, repeatedly warning them of the coming end time.
And then this powerful and austere man of God publicly confronted King Herod for taking his brother’s wife, Herodias, and marrying her. John cried out against the unlawful relationship, and as a result, he was arrested and thrown into prison by a king, who would have immediately executed him but for John’s popularity with the people as a prophet of God.
And so we see this fierce John the Baptist bound in chains and experiencing the darkest dungeon of doubt because Jesus’ mission did not seem to be one of fiery judgment.
This is John, who well knew the Christ from in utero. He was the one who baptized the Lord and saw the dove descend from heaven and heard the voice of God say “This is my son in whom I am well pleased. Listen to him,”
Despite knowing the Lord so well, John’s faith seemed to waiver in his prison cell. He may have been asking himself questions like, “Have I been a fool? Is this all there is? Was I wrong about Jesus?”
For the past 15 years I have worked as a chaplain, holding space for families in deep crisis, sitting with the bereaved, and attending to that liminal space of the death bed. And one of the things I can definitely tell you is that a faith walk is rarely a straight line. Such was the case with John, one of the greatest heroes of the faith.
Scripture does not sugar coat the lives of the saints. It lets us see them, warts and all. I think of the swaggering prophet Elijah who had stood alone on Mt. Carmel, facing down a king, a false god and a disobedient nation by praying down fire from Heaven; but then in exhaustion, crawling under a Juniper tree and asking God to let him die, 1 Kings 19:4. Elijah’s faith walk was not a straight line.
I think of Thomas who had been prepared to die with Jesus, John 11:16, but who would not believe that Jesus had risen from the dead, John 20:24-25 unless he put his hands into his side and saw the nail holes in his hands. Thomas’ faith walk was not a straight line.
Most of us wouldn’t admit it out loud, but our own faith walk is probably not straight and at times we find ourselves assaulted by questions. We may find ourselves also locked in a prison of darkness and doubt. But here’s the good news. Let’s look at how Jesus dealt with John and how he deals with us when our faith falters.
John wisely went straight to the source and sent messengers to Jesus asking, “Are you the One, or should we look for another?” Some biblical scholars note that one of John’s motivations for sending his own disciples is that he knew his fate was sealed and that his end was near, so even in his dire situation, and in his state of doubt, he was concerned for the fate of his followers and wanted to entrust them to Jesus.
And what did Jesus do? When Jesus learned of the doubts that gripped John’s heart, he did not admonish him, he did not chastise him. Instead, He counteracted the voice of doubt, He set the record straight with patience and love and reminded John that even when it seems that evil has overshadowed good, the lame walk, the blind see, the deaf hear and the Kingdom is near, here and now. He reminded John of the words of Isaiah, words that were familiar to John. Words that brought joy and promised hope. Jesus provided these as evidence that he is the one.
Imagine how John felt when he heard that all that he yearned for as a child of Abraham was in fact happening, that God was doing a great work through Jesus, the child of Mary, the kind of work that Isaiah spoke of in our first reading. And when he heard these words, John, although still in prison, was set spiritually free and found joy.
Then, Jesus lovingly elevated John by identifying him as a reed not shaken by the wind, nor a man clothed in soft raiment as the rulers of his time, but as the greatest of those born of women and a fulfillment of the Old Testament prophecies, truly a man of God with an important role in the apocalyptic timeline.
This was the deep and lifegiving work of the Messiah – to encourage his followers, to lift them up, to heal their spirits and remind them and all of us that the Kingdom is near. But, my friends, that deep and lifegiving work is not done. After his resurrection and ascension, this ministry of encouragement continues through us -- the church. We are called to do for each other exactly what Jesus did for John. Sooth our anxieties about the future and immerse ourselves in the rich blessings of the present, blessings which at times seem to be overshadowed by the evil that we are daily subjected to with cable network news and social media blasting ghastly headlines into our hearts and minds.
We the church are the body of Christ, His hands and feet, his mouthpiece, his encouragers, his loving bearers of joy. How do we do that?
Patients sometimes ask me difficult questions like “Chaplain, where do you see God in what’s happening in the world? Where is God in the war in Ukraine? Where is God in the hurricanes, earthquakes, and volcanoes we have seen lately? Where is God when Neo-Nazis show up to harass and intimidate people at an Art Show in downtown Lakeland? “
I hear their doubts, I see their faith wavering by the daily bombardment of dark times depicted in cable network news and social media. I recognize it because at times I experience it myself. And so, I encourage them and all of us to turn to God as John did help in identifying the evidence of the Kingdom of God.
Evidence like the lines of baby strollers that greeted the Ukrainian refugees as they fled across the Polish border with their children in their arms. Things like the hundreds of linemen from around the country responding to the blackouts we experienced during Hurricanes Ian and Nicole. Things like the supportive response of local citizens collectively denouncing the actions of the Neo-Nazis who recently shouted hateful anti-Semitic and homophobic slurs in our own hometown.
And then I think of the Heart of Grace Lutheran, which supplies food, clothing and support for those in need through dozens of local charities. This is how Christian joy breaks into the darkness.
As Bearers of Joy in this Advent season we are called to gently counteract the voice of doubt. Not by cloaking ourselves as cockeyed optimists, or starry-eyed Pollyannas, but as realists who see the good works of God and participate in them.
If the world had its way, it would groom us for a life of doubt by keeping us glued to the headlines of doom. And so, as people of the faith, we must fight to maintain balance, and to keep our eyes on Christ who is ever working among us. Christian joy is fundamentally different from optimism or happiness. Christian joy is like our Advent wreath, glowing stronger and brighter each week, and pushing its way into the brokenness of the world, where we write our own powerful headlines of hope, peace and healing.
This present joy is a foretaste of the eternal joy that Isaiah poetically tells us about when he testified that, “everlasting joy shall be upon our heads.”
This third Sunday in Advent is part of a countercultural pilgrimage that pauses long enough to savor these things of eternal value.
And when we do that for each other, then we are restored, encouraged, filled with hope and better prepared to sing “Joy to the World.” Amen
Judy Kahler-Jalbert, MTH, COSB
Hospice Chaplain
Theology Professor
