061217ser
Zephaniah 3:14-20; Philippians 4:4-7; Luke 3:7-18
I found a story on the internet this week from Barry Robinson, the author of a website entitled “Keeping the Faith in Babylon” that is used in relation to our scripture readings. Robinson writes that one of his favorite stories is the legend of "How St. Francis Taught The People of Gubbio To Feed Their Wolf." It is a strangely humorous story with layer upon layer of meaning according to Robinson.
In a nutshell, the people of Gubbio have a problem. The bloody remains of some of their townsfolk start showing up on the streets of their beautiful city when people awake in the morning. Since the people of Gubbio are very proud people, they are convinced that "a stranger" passing through must be responsible for the terrible crime. Nevertheless, they begin to "lock" their doors at night. When more deaths follow, the same denial "that no one in Gubbio could be responsible for such a thing" is expressed over and over again.
And then, someone sees a wolf wandering the streets of Gubbio one night after everyone has retired; and the people of Gubbio realize that there is a wolf living in the dark woods on one side of Gubbio. Of course, this could not be their wolf; because they never asked this wolf to come to Gubbio. Immediately, they begin to find ways to dispatch this wolf.
After a number of futile attempts, the people get desperate enough to approach the holy man of Assisi who has a reputation for being able "to talk to animals".
St. Francis "speaks" to the wolf and gives the people what appears to be some strange and, not entirely, welcome advice.
He tells the people of Gubbio that they must "feed" their wolf.
At the first, the people are not impressed with this suggestion and begin to wonder why they ever approached the holy man in the first place. And, then, something miraculous happens. Bit by bit, people begin to leave food out for the wolf as he prowls the streets of Gubbio. The violent deaths cease and it is not long before every man, woman and child has learned how to "feed their wolf." As a result, the people of Gubbio are transformed.
They become more easy-going, less arrogant human beings.
Robinson says that people who hear this story for the first time have a variety of reactions to it.
Some are immediately amused by the story and identify with the proud people of Gubbio. They recognize that haughtiness that has to "blame it on strangers" when something goes wrong. The denial and avoidance of the townsfolk are all too familiar. In laughing at the people of Gubbio as they come to terms with their wolf, they realize that they themselves can find healing and freedom by embracing the negative aspects of themselves, their community and their church, that part of the story that is symbolized by the wonderfully vague image of "the wolf."
Other people, however, just don't get it. Or worse, they are offended by the suggestion of a self-identity that incorporates rather than excludes "their" wolf. They decline the invitation to befriend and feed that which they fear most in themselves and each other and miss the opportunity to come to a new and healthier understanding of themselves.
We get equally confounding advice from scripture this third week of Advent. This is Gaudete or Rejoice Sunday, a time when we stop the waiting and watching and preparing of advent and just rejoice.
Paul’s message to us this morning from Philippians is to “rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.”
And from the ancient prophet Zephaniah we are told, “Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem!”
Those sound like appropriate Yuletide scriptures. Rejoicing and singing abound.
But then we reach the gospel lesson where John the Baptist preaches, “Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.”
We’re reminded that God is not Santa Claus who knows whether we’re naughty or nice but Jesus who comes among us and calls us to turn around and follow him. Like the good folk of Gubbio, we need to recognize and feed our wolf. Feeding our wolf, means recognizing those parts that need to be chopped down and thrown into the fire so that we may properly rejoice.
Rejoicing requires that we are not afraid to face our own wolves and feed them so they don’t do further damage. It’s looking deep within ourselves and recognizing the wolf side of us that we don’t like to show in public.
Once we have faced and fed our wolf, we are ready to rejoice. We can then get on with the joy that is part of our lives. We can be like Paul, who writing from prison says that he is ready to rejoice and that in any situation he has learned to be happy.
The Good News of Advent is that God has come, is coming and will continue to come among us, calling us to repentance and to turning ourselves around, as John did among those first century crowds who came to him for baptism.
This advent, take time to rejoice. The waiting and preparing will continue but do so in joy. “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice!”
10 December 2006
Malachi 3:1-4; Luke 1:68-79; Luke 3:1-6
We get two views of John in our readings this morning so attention must be paid. First there is the song/prophesy that his father sings in the first reading from Luke upon the birth of John. And then secondly, there is the introduction to John’s ministry that we heard in the 2nd Luke reading.
As part of the nativity narratives, the birth of John is included. We’re told that Jesus and John are related. Mary and Elizabeth are cousins, likely. John is born late in life for Elizabeth and her husband Zechariah. They had previously been childless but in their later years John came along. And Zechariah knew that this was a special child from the beginning, thus his song that we read together this morning.
Then we get the introduction, a few chapters later, of John’s ministry: a ministry of preparing the way for Jesus. John was calling people to repentance and baptizing in the River Jordan out there in the wilderness. And people were flocking to him from everywhere. John was very popular.
But his was a ministry of preparation. A ministry in which he made the way plain for the one who was to come, that being Jesus, of course. Preparing the people for Jesus’ message.
We know a little about John. He was, as I said, the son of Elizabeth and Zechariah. As an adult, he took to the desert, living a rough life. He ate locusts and wild honey and wore a hair shirt, whether as a sign of his own repentance or whether it was just a sign of how rough his life was, I don’t know.
Luke places him in history with his introduction that lists Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate, Herod, Philip, Lysanias, Annas and Caiaphas. These were real people, who ruled the lands where John did his ministry. Real people who are marked in the history books.
John is all about preparation: preparation for Jesus. So we too are on about preparation this advent. But how are we to prepare? It’s got to be more than just putting up Christmas decorations and making our houses look nice. It’s got to be more than baking and cooking and entertaining. It’s got to be more than shopping and buying and wrapping until our fingers are numb. It’s got to be more than all that.
Malachi gives us a hint of what we’re in for if we’re truly to prepare for Christ’s coming into our world. Preparing for the Messiah is not for the faint of heart. Malachi compares it to the refiner’s fire and the fuller’s soap. A refiner's fire is the forced-air, white-hot blaze that melts metallic ores and brings their impurities to the surface. Fullers' soap is the strong, lye-based soap used to bleach the impurities from cloth. Soap and fire, fire and soap. That’s what we use to prepare for the Messiah. Not just any fire and soap; super hot fire, super strong soap.
Our impurities are going to surface and be melted away leaving only the pure gold or silver that will shine. Our sins are to be scrubbed away leaving only the cleanest of cloths.
Preparation is not, as I said, for the faint of heart. It is something that is more than all our Christmas readyings and busyness. In fact, it’s quite antithetical. Those things can distract us from the real meaning of Advent. Advent is a time of purification and readying; readying ourselves for a meeting with Christ, with a meeting of Malachi’s Messiah, with the one who comes to save us and redeem us.
We’ve got to put aside the prettiness of Christmas for a moment and deal with hair-shirted John, who is going to level out our rough places and make plain those hills and valleys in our souls. We have to be ready for the refiner’s fire and the fuller’s soap both.
This is not a Currier and Ives Christmas card preparation. This is a down-on-the knees, soul-searching preparation that leaves us with tears on our cheeks and a shake in our step. This is a preparation that will leave us gasping for breath and weak in the knees. It’s not going to be simple nor will it be pretty. That’s the problem with Advent. We want it to be pretty. But neither refining ore nor lye soaping cloth are pretty.
Nor are they quick, easy processes. They bite and cause us to struggle and just want to get it over with. But both John and Malachi recognize that this is a process; a process that doesn’t end quickly. It is an ongoing and ever-present part of our life that is accentuated at this time of year as we work towards celebrating the birth of the one who would save us.
Yes, both John and Malachi, prophets separated by about 400 years, are making us ready for the Messiah; the world’s Messiah and our own personal Messiah. As a society we are not immune from this cultural preparation any more than we individually should try to escape it. But for our culture to prepare for the coming of the Christ, we each need to do our own preparation.
Prepare for the coming of the Christ-child into your world. Prepare for Christmas. But make sure you leave room for the true preparation that will require fire and soap and rough places made plain and the crooked made straight. It is difficult, but it is important. Make this your Advent of preparation.
We get two views of John in our readings this morning so attention must be paid. First there is the song/prophesy that his father sings in the first reading from Luke upon the birth of John. And then secondly, there is the introduction to John’s ministry that we heard in the 2nd Luke reading.
As part of the nativity narratives, the birth of John is included. We’re told that Jesus and John are related. Mary and Elizabeth are cousins, likely. John is born late in life for Elizabeth and her husband Zechariah. They had previously been childless but in their later years John came along. And Zechariah knew that this was a special child from the beginning, thus his song that we read together this morning.
Then we get the introduction, a few chapters later, of John’s ministry: a ministry of preparing the way for Jesus. John was calling people to repentance and baptizing in the River Jordan out there in the wilderness. And people were flocking to him from everywhere. John was very popular.
But his was a ministry of preparation. A ministry in which he made the way plain for the one who was to come, that being Jesus, of course. Preparing the people for Jesus’ message.
We know a little about John. He was, as I said, the son of Elizabeth and Zechariah. As an adult, he took to the desert, living a rough life. He ate locusts and wild honey and wore a hair shirt, whether as a sign of his own repentance or whether it was just a sign of how rough his life was, I don’t know.
Luke places him in history with his introduction that lists Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate, Herod, Philip, Lysanias, Annas and Caiaphas. These were real people, who ruled the lands where John did his ministry. Real people who are marked in the history books.
John is all about preparation: preparation for Jesus. So we too are on about preparation this advent. But how are we to prepare? It’s got to be more than just putting up Christmas decorations and making our houses look nice. It’s got to be more than baking and cooking and entertaining. It’s got to be more than shopping and buying and wrapping until our fingers are numb. It’s got to be more than all that.
Malachi gives us a hint of what we’re in for if we’re truly to prepare for Christ’s coming into our world. Preparing for the Messiah is not for the faint of heart. Malachi compares it to the refiner’s fire and the fuller’s soap. A refiner's fire is the forced-air, white-hot blaze that melts metallic ores and brings their impurities to the surface. Fullers' soap is the strong, lye-based soap used to bleach the impurities from cloth. Soap and fire, fire and soap. That’s what we use to prepare for the Messiah. Not just any fire and soap; super hot fire, super strong soap.
Our impurities are going to surface and be melted away leaving only the pure gold or silver that will shine. Our sins are to be scrubbed away leaving only the cleanest of cloths.
Preparation is not, as I said, for the faint of heart. It is something that is more than all our Christmas readyings and busyness. In fact, it’s quite antithetical. Those things can distract us from the real meaning of Advent. Advent is a time of purification and readying; readying ourselves for a meeting with Christ, with a meeting of Malachi’s Messiah, with the one who comes to save us and redeem us.
We’ve got to put aside the prettiness of Christmas for a moment and deal with hair-shirted John, who is going to level out our rough places and make plain those hills and valleys in our souls. We have to be ready for the refiner’s fire and the fuller’s soap both.
This is not a Currier and Ives Christmas card preparation. This is a down-on-the knees, soul-searching preparation that leaves us with tears on our cheeks and a shake in our step. This is a preparation that will leave us gasping for breath and weak in the knees. It’s not going to be simple nor will it be pretty. That’s the problem with Advent. We want it to be pretty. But neither refining ore nor lye soaping cloth are pretty.
Nor are they quick, easy processes. They bite and cause us to struggle and just want to get it over with. But both John and Malachi recognize that this is a process; a process that doesn’t end quickly. It is an ongoing and ever-present part of our life that is accentuated at this time of year as we work towards celebrating the birth of the one who would save us.
Yes, both John and Malachi, prophets separated by about 400 years, are making us ready for the Messiah; the world’s Messiah and our own personal Messiah. As a society we are not immune from this cultural preparation any more than we individually should try to escape it. But for our culture to prepare for the coming of the Christ, we each need to do our own preparation.
Prepare for the coming of the Christ-child into your world. Prepare for Christmas. But make sure you leave room for the true preparation that will require fire and soap and rough places made plain and the crooked made straight. It is difficult, but it is important. Make this your Advent of preparation.
3 December 2006
Luke 21:25-36
A lot has been written about the end times. In fact, a whole series of extremely popular books, Left Behind, has been written about the apocalypse. I can’t say that I have read them. But I have heard enough about them to know they instill fear; fear about not being on the right side of the end times. There are tales, I hear, of war and of people disappearing into nothingness. Of course, I’m sure, I would be on the wrong side when the end times come according to the author. The right side of the end times is reserved for a very few, according to some.
Of course this is tied to Christ’s second coming; or his final coming as I prefer to think of it. Christ is coming to us on a daily basis. So we await his final coming at the end times, I would suggest.
Things needn’t be so frightening though. There doesn’t need to be all this fear instilled in people. Certainly the early church, the original hearers of our gospel passage this morning, were eagerly awaiting this final coming. It’s clear from the Luke passage that these final days are something to be watched for.
Luke’s gospel was written in the 8th or 9th decade of the 1st century: several decades after Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection. Certainly by then, people were ready for Jesus to come back in glory. In fact, our gospel reading this morning states that it will happen within “this generation,” putting those words in Jesus’ mouth. Clearly, if it’s 60 years after the event of the crucifixion and resurrection and Jesus is quoted as saying these things will happen soon, then the hearers and author of this writing would be most expectant of Jesus showing up to take over the world.
And taking over the world was what was needed. The Roman Empire was typically fierce and oppressive. People lived in the hope that someone would come along and knock them off their high perch. Someone who would rule with justice and righteousness. Someone like Jesus, the Christ, the Messiah.
Perhaps this is why Christianity, this early break off of Judaism, spread so rapidly throughout the Roman Empire. It instilled hope for a peaceful takeover of the beast that was the Roman Empire. It brought the expectation that soon, very soon, something would happen to break the oppressive yoke of the tyranny.
Christianity offered hope: hope for a better world. Its teacher was about love and grace and justice. The early writings all pointed to Christ returning shortly. 1 & 2 Thessalonians, from which we also heard this morning, are among the oldest writings in the New Testament. They are filled with the same expectation of which Luke’s gospel spoke: that Jesus would be coming back soon.
So what are we to do, some 2,000 years later? We are not part of the generations of which Luke and Paul wrote. We aren’t just a few short decades away from Jesus’ ministry. Indeed, much water has flowed under the ecclesiastical bridge since Jesus walked the earth. What do we do with the predictions that Christ’s coming is soon? Ignore them? Say they didn’t happen then and they’re not going to come true now? Or do we go in the other direction and take the current events of the world as signs that the world is ending?
Indeed, the world may be ending, but I think that its demise will be more of a humanly-made event, brought about by our greed and ignorance rather than a triumphant return of Christ. Perhaps those two events will be simultaneous. I don’t know.
And that’s the point: none of us know. And that’s the point of Advent: reminding us that we live in expectation and hope. We truly are people living in darkness and looking for the light of Christ. But we’re called to the darkness right now.
For us in the northern hemisphere, of course, Advent comes at a time of lessening light. As Advent progresses, our light declines. The darkest time in our world arrives as Advent comes to a climax. And appropriately, we live in this darkness progressively lighting candles seeking the true light of our world.
But we stumble along, expecting that…well, expecting what? What do you really expect this Advent? Do you expect Christ to come for the final time to reign in triumph. Do you expect wars to cease and diseases to be cured? Is this a time to expect prisoners to be set free and oppression to end? Or are you just expecting to make it through Christmas?
In the darkness of our life, we are comfortable surrounded by God’s velvety darkness; a darkness in which we see little but know God’s presence and love. We may feel like we are groping our way through our faith at times in this darkness but we keep searching for the light of the Christ.
The waiting of Advent is waiting for justice and righteousness to prevail. But what are we to do in the meantime? Just sit and wait in expectation? I think we are called to work so that justice and righteousness will occur. We can’t just sit back and hope that things will get better. If we want wars to cease and oppression to end, there are things we can do. We can be involved in the work of justice. We can seek the end to oppressions such as racism and homophobia.
Our call is clear. This is Advent. A time of lengthening shadows and growing darkness. Out of the Advent darkness and shadows should be growing the light that we shine of Christ, coming again and again to renew our world.
A lot has been written about the end times. In fact, a whole series of extremely popular books, Left Behind, has been written about the apocalypse. I can’t say that I have read them. But I have heard enough about them to know they instill fear; fear about not being on the right side of the end times. There are tales, I hear, of war and of people disappearing into nothingness. Of course, I’m sure, I would be on the wrong side when the end times come according to the author. The right side of the end times is reserved for a very few, according to some.
Of course this is tied to Christ’s second coming; or his final coming as I prefer to think of it. Christ is coming to us on a daily basis. So we await his final coming at the end times, I would suggest.
Things needn’t be so frightening though. There doesn’t need to be all this fear instilled in people. Certainly the early church, the original hearers of our gospel passage this morning, were eagerly awaiting this final coming. It’s clear from the Luke passage that these final days are something to be watched for.
Luke’s gospel was written in the 8th or 9th decade of the 1st century: several decades after Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection. Certainly by then, people were ready for Jesus to come back in glory. In fact, our gospel reading this morning states that it will happen within “this generation,” putting those words in Jesus’ mouth. Clearly, if it’s 60 years after the event of the crucifixion and resurrection and Jesus is quoted as saying these things will happen soon, then the hearers and author of this writing would be most expectant of Jesus showing up to take over the world.
And taking over the world was what was needed. The Roman Empire was typically fierce and oppressive. People lived in the hope that someone would come along and knock them off their high perch. Someone who would rule with justice and righteousness. Someone like Jesus, the Christ, the Messiah.
Perhaps this is why Christianity, this early break off of Judaism, spread so rapidly throughout the Roman Empire. It instilled hope for a peaceful takeover of the beast that was the Roman Empire. It brought the expectation that soon, very soon, something would happen to break the oppressive yoke of the tyranny.
Christianity offered hope: hope for a better world. Its teacher was about love and grace and justice. The early writings all pointed to Christ returning shortly. 1 & 2 Thessalonians, from which we also heard this morning, are among the oldest writings in the New Testament. They are filled with the same expectation of which Luke’s gospel spoke: that Jesus would be coming back soon.
So what are we to do, some 2,000 years later? We are not part of the generations of which Luke and Paul wrote. We aren’t just a few short decades away from Jesus’ ministry. Indeed, much water has flowed under the ecclesiastical bridge since Jesus walked the earth. What do we do with the predictions that Christ’s coming is soon? Ignore them? Say they didn’t happen then and they’re not going to come true now? Or do we go in the other direction and take the current events of the world as signs that the world is ending?
Indeed, the world may be ending, but I think that its demise will be more of a humanly-made event, brought about by our greed and ignorance rather than a triumphant return of Christ. Perhaps those two events will be simultaneous. I don’t know.
And that’s the point: none of us know. And that’s the point of Advent: reminding us that we live in expectation and hope. We truly are people living in darkness and looking for the light of Christ. But we’re called to the darkness right now.
For us in the northern hemisphere, of course, Advent comes at a time of lessening light. As Advent progresses, our light declines. The darkest time in our world arrives as Advent comes to a climax. And appropriately, we live in this darkness progressively lighting candles seeking the true light of our world.
But we stumble along, expecting that…well, expecting what? What do you really expect this Advent? Do you expect Christ to come for the final time to reign in triumph. Do you expect wars to cease and diseases to be cured? Is this a time to expect prisoners to be set free and oppression to end? Or are you just expecting to make it through Christmas?
In the darkness of our life, we are comfortable surrounded by God’s velvety darkness; a darkness in which we see little but know God’s presence and love. We may feel like we are groping our way through our faith at times in this darkness but we keep searching for the light of the Christ.
The waiting of Advent is waiting for justice and righteousness to prevail. But what are we to do in the meantime? Just sit and wait in expectation? I think we are called to work so that justice and righteousness will occur. We can’t just sit back and hope that things will get better. If we want wars to cease and oppression to end, there are things we can do. We can be involved in the work of justice. We can seek the end to oppressions such as racism and homophobia.
Our call is clear. This is Advent. A time of lengthening shadows and growing darkness. Out of the Advent darkness and shadows should be growing the light that we shine of Christ, coming again and again to renew our world.
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