Full service HERE. Sermon is at about 34 min.
Advent 2C
December 5, 2021
Luke 3:1-6 and Luke 1:68-79
INTRODUCTION
The second Sunday of Advent always focuses our attention on John the Baptist. Though you won’t find John in any nativity set (at least not one I’ve ever seen), he is an essential character in Advent, because he is the one who announces Jesus’ coming, urging us repeatedly to “repent.”
We’ll first hear this message today in our reading from Malachi – though John was not likely who Malachi was talking about (he was likely speaking more about the temple priests as messenger), we have nonetheless come to think of John the Baptist as “the messenger” Malachi refers to, the one who calls us all to repent and prepare the way of the Lord. Philippians reflects some of the fruit that preparation will yield.
The Gospel reading has the most obvious John the Baptist story, as John bursts on the scene with his famous quote from Isaiah: “Prepare the way of the Lord! Make his paths straight!” Luke, a historian, tells us the very specific time when this happened, citing 7 different rulers of the day, before adding that the word of God came not to them, but to this guy in the wilderness.
But I actually want to highlight our Psalm today. You will notice it is not a Psalm at all, but actually from Luke. Luke’s Gospel gives us three different canticles, or songs, around the preparation and birth of Jesus. Most well-known is the Magnificat, Mary’s song, which we’ll hear in a couple weeks. Today is the song of Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist. John’s parents, Elizabeth and Zechariah, were both associated with the Temple – Zechariah was a priest. In their old age, they dearly longed for a child, but were barren. When an angel told Zechariah that Elizabeth was pregnant, he didn’t believe it, and so what did the angel do? Took Zechariah’s voice, of course! For 9 months, he was mute. At baby John’s circumcision, when Zechariah finally accepts this miracle, his mouth is opened, and he sings this song of praise. In my humble opinion, they are some of the most beautiful words in scripture, a powerful song of praise and liberation.
In fact, that liberation theme can be found throughout this morning’s worship, so keep an eye out for it, and consider, in what ways does God continue to free us from that which would keep us bound? Let’s listen.
[READ]
Grace to you and peace from the One who is and who was and who is to come. Amen.
South Africa has been in the news a lot this week, with the rise of the latest Covid mutation, Omicron. But I have been thinking about South Africa for a different reason this week: I have been reading about apartheid, because this week’s featured song for our Advent series, “My Heart Shall Sing,” comes out of the anti-apartheid movement. Apartheid, as you likely know, was the system of legislation in South Africa for some 50 years, in which the white minority upheld segregationist policies against non-white citizens of South Africa. Though it claimed to bring peace and prosperity to a diverse South Africa, it actually did the opposite; as Americans ought to know, separation does not bring equality. Indeed, the non-white majority was oppressed, stripped of all power, relegated to shantytowns and other far inferior facilities, and often victims of gross human rights violations. The word “apartheid” means “apartness” in the Afrikaans language, and “apart” was certainly a defining characteristic of the system: not only were whites separated from non-whites, but the non-white majority was also separated into different groups, divided along tribal lines, splitting the majority into many smaller minorities, so to further decrease their political power.
Various forms of resistance arose, of course – some peaceful, some more violent. That is bound to happen when a group is oppressed; we’re seeing it unfold in America right now. Whatever the cause may be, one frequent characteristic of resistance movements is that they often give birth to songs of resistance – folky, easy to learn songs that bring together those fighting for a common cause. Think of America’s own Civil Rights Movement, and songs like, “We Shall Overcome.” The anti-apartheid movement was no different in this way. One of the songs that arose out of that movement fighting for an end to apartness and oppression, was one that is likely familiar to our ears, one that looks to the future hope of freedom, proclaiming an insistence that the freedom they crave is coming – we know it!
[Choir sings]
Freedom is coming… freedom is coming… freedom is coming, oh yes I know.
Oh freedom! Oh freedom! Or freedom! (Freedom is coming, oh yes I know!)
Oh Jesus! Oh Jesus! Oh Jesus! (Jesus is coming, oh yes I know!)
Oh yes, I know! Oh, yes I know! Oh, yes I know!
I have heard this song most of my life, but never thought of it as an Advent song. But as I read this week’s readings, and reflected on the themes and messages of Advent, I suddenly saw freedom all over the place – all the longing for it and the assurance that it was both on its way, and already here. The already-and-not yet of God’s kingdom, a kingdom in which we are free from sin, from death, from all our enemies, even as we continually strive for that.
Listen again to these words of Zechariah’s song: “Blessed be the God of Israel! You have come to your people and set them free! … This was the oath you swore to our Father Abraham: to set us free from the hands of our enemies.” You see, freedom is what God is all about, and what the coming of our Lord and Savior is all about. We say as much in the prayer of confession: “We confess that we are captive to sin, and cannot free ourselves.” We suffer from this thing, this sinful human condition, that puts separation, apartness, between us and the God who loves us and made us. While there is certainly plenty of physical oppression and captivity in our world – whether imposed politically, or socially, or in more personal ways, perhaps an addiction or another disease – we all, every one of us, long for freedom, don’t we? We all find ourselves captive to something. We all find ourselves captive to sin.
But freedom is coming. Freedom is coming. Freedom is coming, oh yes, I know it is. I know it is! Freedom is coming, as a babe in a manger, as a peasant itinerant preacher, as the leader of a resistance movement against Roman oppression. Freedom is coming.
My attention was captured this week by the meaning of the word apartheid: “apartness.” We experience our own apartheid, don’t we, our own apartness, from God – that is what so often holds us captive, that distance from God. But freedom is coming. God’s closeness is upon us. Advent is about preparing for the apartness to grow smaller, even to disappear. It is about preparing the way for that to happen: bringing down mountains, humbling our inflated egos; filling in the valleys, how we get stuck on the endings without looking up to see the beginnings God is making; making straight the pathways, so that all the distractions would prevent us from seeing the salvation of God, would be removed.
And when that nearness comes to us, when the apartness is truly gone and God is not only near us but in us, in every step and thought and word and deed – that is when we have true freedom, when the power of sin and death is no more, when we are no longer blinded by the fear and threats of ending and loss, and can instead see the salvation of God, bringing about new beginnings.
“In the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness, and in the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.” Jesus is coming, my friends. Freedom is coming. Our salvation is near.
Let us pray… Oh Jesus… Yes, we know that freedom is coming. Help us to see it. Help us to trust it. Help us to live in. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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