Thursday, January 5, 2017

“Advent’s Fiery Preacher,” Matt. 3.1-12, Advent 2A Midweek series ‘16


1.                  Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Heavenly Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  The message from God’s Word in our 2nd Advent Midweek service is taken from Matthew 3:1-12 and it’s entitled, “Advent’s Fiery Preacher,” dear brothers and sisters in Christ.
2.                 December 6th may hold little meaning for many of us. It’s not a day that many Americans consider a special part of our Advent and Christmas celebrations. And yet, this time of year we commemorate a man whose remembrance would change the way Christmas is celebrated. December 6 is the day set aside in the Church to remember Nicholas, Bishop of Myra. One of the best-known stories from the life of Nicholas takes place long before he became a Bishop of the Church. Historians tell us that Nicholas was orphaned as a small child, but his parents had left him heir to a modest fortune. While still a young man, Nicholas learned that a certain family in his village had grown so poor that the father of the house was at the point of selling his daughters into the worst form of slavery. And so late at night, Nicholas crept to the house and dropped three bags of gold through the window—left to be discovered by the family in the morning.  This begins the tale of a midnight bringer of gifts, laden with heavy sacks and a heart breaking with generosity.
3.                 But the Nicholas we often see visiting the children of Europe at Christmastime, the man clothed in the fine robes of a wealthy churchman, is no doubt a far cry from the ancient bishop of Myra. In Benjamin Brittin’s cantata “St. Nicholas,” Eric Crozier reminds us of this simple man.  The Nicholas who walked the streets at night on errands of charity, who turned the parish hall into a clinic during a plague, who refused to eat during a time of famine until all had food, who was thrown into jail for protesting the injustices suffered by his people, this Nicholas certainly didn’t spend his time in silks and cloth woven of gold and silver, in fine fur. He would no doubt be shocked to see the way people “dress him up” in order to decorate their Christmases today.
4.                 If it takes a little work to fit into our Advent the man of the day for December 6th, it takes a lot of work to fit in the man of the day in our text: John the Baptist. Matthew 3 tells us,  In those days John the Baptist came preaching in the wilderness of Judea, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.’ For this is he who was spoken of by the prophet Isaiah when he said, ‘The voice of one crying in the wilderness: “Prepare the way of the Lord; make his paths straight ” (vv 1–3).
5.                 It takes a lot of cleaning and dressing up to fit this man of the wilderness into our holiday gatherings. Everything about him—from his camel fur and leather clothing to his diet of bugs, from his lack of political sense to his offensive preaching—everything about John stands in opposition to the mood we seek to create for our “holiday season.” Like an uninvited guest at the Christmas open house, John barges in, throwing both hosts and guests into dismay. John the Baptist and the “Christmas spirit” just don’t mix.  You brood of vipers!” John cries out to the highly respected religious people of his time. Do you realize what he’s saying? He’s saying, “Your mother was a snake!” He’s telling them they’re all children not of Abraham but of that old serpent, Satan. How’s that for a “Season’s Greetings!” and a “Happy Holidays!”? There was no sentimentality here.  John’s preaching of the Kingdom and his Baptism for repentance weren’t to be trifled with. This wasn’t for those interested only in religious duty. In fact, for all who thought that repentance was easy work, John had sobering news.
6.                 Luther summed up John’s message well when, in the Smalcald Articles, he identified John as the fiery messenger of the Apocalypse who announces the time for the fulfillment of the mystery of God. Luther writes:  But here comes the fiery angel of St. John [Revelation 10], the true preacher of repentance. With one bolt of lightning, he hurls together both those selling and those buying works. He says: “Repent!” [Matthew 3:2].  Now one group imagines, “Why, we have repented!” The other says, “We need no repentance.”  John says, “Repent, both of you. You false penitents and false saints, both of you need the forgiveness of sins. Neither of you know what sin really is. Much less your duty to repent of it and shun it. For no one of you is good. You are full of unbelief, stupidity, and ignorance of God and God’s will. But He is present here, of whose ‘fullness we have all received, grace upon grace’” [John 1:16]. Without Him, no one can be righteous before God. Therefore, if you want to repent, repent rightly. Your works of penance will accomplish nothing. As for you hypocrites, who do not need repentance, you serpents’ brood, who has assured you that you will escape the wrath to come and other judgments?” [Matthew 3:7; Luke 3:7]. (SA III III 30–32)
7.                 “Now there’s a fiery preacher for you! If only we had preachers like that today!” we’re tempted to think. “He could put the fear of God into you, and I bet he’d get results! If we’d get back to that kind of preaching—then we’d have some spark in this church.”  But, for all of John’s preaching power, for all his bold claims and stinging criticisms, he’s not the fiery preacher of today’s text. Nothing could be more wrong. In fact, it’s John himself who warns us against making that mistake: “I come with water only and a message to repent, but he comes with the Spirit and with fire!”
8.                 Nicholas the bishop, Isaiah the prophet, John the Baptist—they’re just little lights on the Advent wreath, shining in our dark nights to call us to hope and readiness. They fade when the true light who enlightens every person, the dayspring from on high, the sun of righteousness, appears. They can’t help but decrease as Jesus increases, though their work isn’t finished until they’ve pointed us to him.
9.                 But why do they have to point us to this Jesus? Matthew 3:12 says, “His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and gather his wheat into the barn, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire” (v 12). Why in Advent do they have to point us to such a fiery Jesus? I think it’s one of the greatest ironies of our Christmas celebration that at the one time of year when the malls will pipe in songs about Jesus, the gentle, innocent baby, at the one time of year when the world will acknowledge at least a smidgen of joy at the coming of the Child, we, the Church, proclaim a Jesus with a pitchfork ready to put the world through a Baptism of fire. And the sad side of this irony is that many in the Church are ready to side with the malls.
10.             Jesus knew what the world needed, and he knows what we still need today. Not just good memories to make us feel good about one another. Not just warnings that we’d better watch out and better not cry, warnings to be nice and not naughty. The world needed God’s righteous judgment and new life, life that could come only from the Holy Spirit. The world needed a Savior, one who would take our sins into himself, would die so that we could die in him, be buried with him, and in him pass through God’s judgment  and be raised to newness of life. That’s what it means for Jesus to baptize with fire: it means that all of us who’ve been baptized into Christ have already passed through the fire; we’ve been judged, purified, made clean and new. When this preacher says to us, “My child, your sins are forgiven,” his words are final. No John or Isaiah could speak with that kind of authority. His words were final and his words were fire, words that leave our hearts burning.
11.             It’s true, Advent calls us to repent: in Isaiah’s visions, in Nicholas’s challenge to charity and justice, in John’s cries to make our crooked lives straight. But that’s not to say that Advent is telling us each year that our Baptism and our Jesus have lost their power. Advent isn’t telling us that having once celebrated our Jesus we now need to return to the Law to be saved. Advent calls us to prepare for the Jesus who will come by learning again the Jesus who has come, Jesus the child of the Virgin, and the Jesus who comes to us now in Word and water and bread and wine. Advent calls us to return to our Baptism and live in that Baptism. Advent calls us not to try to clothe ourselves in our own righteousness but to put on Jesus and live in him.
12.             Advent is no season of gloom, nor is there nearly as much doom in Advent as some would have us believe. Compared with the world’s “happy holidays” of artificial cheer and baseless hope, Advent is a season of genuine joy. Restrained joy to be sure, as is always the case in the preparation for the arrival of one we love so dearly. If we’re consumed by Advent’s work of preparation, it’s because of our passion for this fiery guest. Our work of Advent preparation is no chore, it’s the very work that gives our lives purpose. We’ve seen the Lord. With Jesus, we’ve walked and died and risen again.  Jesus, the Fiery Preacher of Advent, Has Seen Us through the Judgment and Set Us on Fire with His Love.  In his love, we now work to make ready our hearts, our homes, our world for his coming. And on our lips is the prayer, “Stir up your power, O Lord, and come.” Amen.



“Not Another Advent!” Matt. 11.2-15, Advent 3A midweek, Dec. ‘16





1.       Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Heavenly Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  Amen.  The message from God’s Word in our 3rd Advent midweek service is taken from Matthew 11:2-15, it’s entitled, “Not Another Advent,” dear brothers and sisters in Christ.
2.        “Never have I entered on Advent so vitally and intensely alert as I am now. When I pace my cell, up and down, three paces one way and three the other, my hands shackled, an unknown fate in front of me, then the tidings of our Lord’s coming to redeem the world and deliver it have quite a different and much more vivid meaning.”  These words, that sound as if they could’ve come from John the Baptist and now inmate, come instead from the Advent meditations of Father Alfred Delp, written from Tegel Prison, during what would turn out to be his last Advent on earth, 1944. He was executed the following February. His crime was trying to envision a new social order, a Christian social order for his country, once the grip of Nazism was broken. Father Delp’s Advent meditation continues, “My mind keeps going back to the angel someone gave me as a present during Advent two or three years ago. It bore the inscription: ‘Be of good cheer. The Lord is near.’ A bomb destroyed it. The same bomb killed the donor.”  I can only imagine how different the message of the Lord’s coming must have sounded to Alfred and to John the Baptist, spoken through prison bars to men who wouldn’t live to see another Advent.
3.       But, for many of us here this evening I suspect the problem isn’t how different Advent sounds this year. Our problem is that Advent present sounds just like Advent past, and, we fear, there’s not going to be anything new about Advent still to come either. Advent’s texts are as familiar to us as the carols of the season. The “Baptist’s cry” and the “prophet’s foretelling” are like the ornaments we so carefully unwrap, display, enjoy, and then carefully pack away so we can enjoy them next year. The “spirit of the season”—Advent’s longing, Advent’s patience, Advent’s hope—these we slide into again like an old Santa suit that may not fit as well as it used to, but, it won’t matter, because we won’t have to wear it for long.
4.       We had hoped something different would happen this year. Think about where we are, what we’re doing. If it were ever going to happen, wouldn’t it be here? Wouldn’t it be now, this year? Maybe, it’s not going to happen. Maybe Advent’s lesson for us is this: the more things change, the more they stay the same. For us.
5.       Because we do have to admit that things seem to be changing all around us: blind people are seeing, lame people are walking, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead live, the poor have good news preached to them. That’s all great, for them. But what about us captives? Did you notice that there was no word of release to the captive? Advent comes and Advent goes, as regular as clockwork, as annual as tax day, as ordered as the seasons; it comes and goes and the Messiah’s prophet is still in prison, the violent still oppress us, the poor are still with us, the waiting people keep on waiting. And the Advent hymn, “Wake! Awake, for Night is Flying!” slowly becomes for us a lullaby.  But, as Martin Franzmann has written, “He who has ears to hear had better hear now what the God of history is saying at the supreme hour of  history” (Martin Franzmann, Follow Me, [St. Louis: CPH, 1961], 120). Advent may be for us, but it’s not about us, not in the sense that it truly becomes Advent when we feel a certain way, when we “keep it in our hearts.” Advent is Jesus’ presence, not ours, and when he shows up things are anything but as regular as clockwork and as ordered as the seasons. His Advent breaks every imaginable pattern: blindness becomes sight, corruption dissolves into cleanness, death—his—becomes the predecessor of life.
6.       And John the Baptist, the prison prophet, is not exception but proof. The violent had opposed the rule and reign of God. They had imprisoned and silenced prophets, but not prophecy. The word of the Lord would be proclaimed even if the stones on the ground had to shout. No king, no conqueror, no tyrant could silence the voice of the Lord spoken by his prophets, but now prophets and Law grow silent. What need is there for prophecy when our King and Lawgiver, the desire of all nations has come?

7.       But, once more would the violent attempt their program of snatching and silencing, arrest and execution. But, once more would the Kingdom of God receive violent treatment at the hands of violent men. Surely, if they could kill the great John the Baptist then this “one of no consequence,” this “little fellow” who came after John would cause them no trouble. And that was the fatal flaw in the argument. They had not calculated with the “until now” that this one spoke; little did they know that this “little one” would manifest a greatness that far exceeded the greatness of his greatest prophet. No longer can prison or sword or cross or tomb silence this word or withstand this kingdom.
8.       Friends, the prisons that held John the Baptist and Father Alfred Delp captive were all too real, but the prisons that hold us are, I fear, largely of our own making. That’s not to say, that our fears and questionings and doubts and disappointments are only imagined. But to us, this day, when we ask John’s question: “What Child is this? What kind of Savior is this? Are you the One?”, the same answer comes that came to John so long ago. And it’s not, “Search your hearts and see what they tell you.” No, the answer is look and listen. Our Lord Jesus Christ was no mere blip on the screen, not some momentary disturbance that the system has now corrected. The Lord didn’t raise up a new generation of prophets to point to a new Messiah, to inaugurate a new season of endless waiting. The people healed by this one’s first coming stayed healed. The good news that the poor heard is still proclaimed in his name. And the hold of the violent ones on the people of God has been broken forever. Quite simply,  The claim won’t stand that nothing has changed, that this year brings the same old, same old Advent.
9.       You’ve heard and you’ve seen, but look again! Hear again! It’s not simply the words of the prophet that fill this room; it’s the Gospel of the Lord that echoes off its walls. It’s not the Passover that we eat when we gather for our sacred Supper; it’s the banquet of our Lord, the meal that satisfies even as it makes us long to partake of the feast to come, the meal at which the nations sit down together. He has come, and nothing can undo that. He comes now, and no one can stop him. He will come, and it is a fact that our salvation is nearer today than it was in Advent 2015.
10.   You’ve heard and you’ve seen. Now go and tell. Tell the despairing captive. Speak to the anxious heart. Yes, proclaim it to the violent ones too; preach the good news to those who persecute you. Father Delp continues with this hope: “Let us pray for receptive and willing hearts that the warnings God sends us may penetrate our minds and help us to overcome the wilderness of this life. Let us have the courage to take the words of the Messenger to heart and not ignore them, lest those who are our executioners today may at some future time be our accusers for the suppression of truth.” It’s time the ransomed of the Lord all be gathered, that we walk together on the Way of Holiness, singing good news along the way to the day of gladness and everlasting joy. Amen.