Text: Luke 3:1-6 (King James Version)
3 Now in the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate being governor of Judaea, and Herod being tetrarch of Galilee, and his brother Philip tetrarch of Ituraea and of the region of Trachonitis, and Lysanias the tetrarch of Abilene,
2 Annas and Caiaphas being the high priests, the word of God came unto John the son of Zacharias in the wilderness.
3 And he came into all the country about Jordan, preaching the baptism of repentance for the remission of sins;
4 As it is written in the book of the words of Esaias the prophet, saying, The voice of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.
5 Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be brought low; and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways shall be made smooth;
6 And all flesh shall see the salvation of God.
In the Name of God, the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.
Peace. That is today’s Advent theme.
Peace. What a simple, wonderful word. What a comforting concept. What a holy and wonderful state of being.
But lately, peace seems like nothing more than a woolly-headed pipe dream, an exercise in vain pie-in-the-sky-by-and-by wishful thinking. It seems like it just ain’t ever gonna happen.
That’s how I’ve been feeling this week. Or, to quote (and slightly update) what Thomas Paine famously said: “These are the times that try men’s – and women’s – souls.”
As I gamely poked away at this sermon, what I intended to write – about John the Baptist out there in the wilderness, Mary’s visit to Elizabeth, preparing for Christmas – none of it hit the mark. I checked my usual sources, but nothing seemed to grab me. I sat on Thursday afternoon, piddling away, trying to get something meaningful written. But – I got nothing. Bupkis. My brain raced like a car with no treads on its tires, spinning and smoking on the ice, but getting nowhere. The harsh and brutal realities of these past few days – this entire past month, really – dripped like an acid on my soul.
And then Friday’s New York Times showed up on my doorstep. The first thing I saw was the full-color picture of the SUV used by the terrorists in San Bernardino, windows blown out, riddled with bullet holes, glass and shell casings everywhere, marked by the police forensic team. Under that was another picture showing the two automatic assault rifles used by the terrorists, and under that was a partial inventory of all the other hardware – including bombs – that the killers had on hand to do their butchery, most of which they thankfully never got the chance to use. Another of the headlines read: “Arms Stockpile Is Found In Home of Two Suspects.” Yet another headline read: “Fear in the Air, Americans Look Over Shoulders.”
Who couldn’t be affected by this horror? Well, finally, I had to admit that I simply couldn’t carry on with “business as usual.” I, like all of you, have been shocked beyond measure this past week by the news reports of this latest mass shooting, yet another act of barbarity, yet another attack on innocent people. I am angry, I am outraged. And I am also sad, sad to the very marrow of my bones.
So, if today you’re feeling like I am – shocked, angry, outraged, and sad, not to mention possibly confused and wondering just where God is in all of this, know that I am with you.
I thought a lot about what to say today. One of my overarching goals every week is to say something inspirational. That rarely happens, though, so I usually settle for uplifting. But preachers like me are often criticized – and rightly so sometimes – for talking about things like God’s love and God’s mercy, things that are absolutely true in and of themselves and which we all need to hear about, and yet failing at the same time to address issues and concerns that are at the forefront in the lives of their church members.
Today seems to be one of those times. When our country is in the throes of repeated acts of murderous terror, when our media are saturated with reports on these acts, talking about John the Baptist out there in the desert, with his honey and his locusts, might at first appear to be just so much dry historical regurgitation, with no possible relevance to those of us who live in a time and a place where people, some insane, some misguided, and some truly evil, can in seconds end the lives of dozens of other, innocent, people. There seems to be a disconnect – in fact, a gigantic gulf – between what we do here and what goes on out there.
But I can’t believe that’s the case. I can’t and won’t believe that what we do here on Sunday morning has nothing to do with the rest of the week. I have preached maybe a thousand sermons in my career, and have staked my existence on the premise that the opposite is true: That what happens in here has an effect and a far-reaching positive influence on the world “out there.”
So I read, and re-read, this morning’s Gospel lesson probably a dozen times. That word for today, peace, kept echoing in my skull…peace…peace…peace… And finally, it hit me. The “peace” we’re talking about is not worldly peace – because there has never been a time in all of human history when there has been peace. Never. The peace we’re talking about today is a peace that comes only from God – the “peace that passes all understanding” because it is not the kind of peace the world provides, but the Peace that God provides. And that Peace is ours, and can be felt, and lived, and shared, even in the midst of carnage, and horror, and fear. That is a Peace that, in fact, is not of this world at all, and as such, it is not dependent on what happens, or doesn’t happen, in this world.
Where was God the other day? Cynics among us will say – probably already have said – that such tragedies prove that God either does not exist, or if He does, doesn’t care about us. As usual, they are hopelessly misinformed and thoroughly wrong. God was right there with the victims, suffering with them. God was there with the first responders, those in Colorado and in San Bernardino. God was there with the police officers who went into harm’s way to end the threat. God was with that Iraq War vet who was outside of the Planned Parenthood building to making a phone call, then called 911, then rushed inside the building to warn people to get down – and lost his life. “Greater love hath no man than this…”
And where is God today? God is right here, just where He has always been, and where He will always be – in our hearts, in our souls, giving us strength and courage – giving us His perfect Peace. That’s why we lit that candle this morning. And, when we leave here today, God will be out there with us, too.
Not only that – we will carry that Peace with us into the world.
This is where we find a connection to today’s Gospel.
John was all about the coming Kingdom of God. He was under no illusions about the state of the world he lived in any more than we are of the state of ours.
But John knew that a better day was about to dawn. That’s why he sounds a note of urgency: “Listen up, people,” he says, “Get ready! Repent! Make the paths straight! Put aside all those things that are not important! The time is at hand!” In other words, time’s a-wastin’! Don’t dawdle!
Why? Because the coming of the Christ Child that we celebrate on December 25th is actually the beginning of the end of this world as we know it, where the bad guys hold sway. This is the first major event of the End Times; and he wants as many people as possible to get in on the good thing that’s coming.
And even people who lived in Jerusalem – the Big City of the day – went to see him. It takes a lot to leave the comforts of your own home to go to a place like that trackless desert where John hung out. But they did; and they did it in huge numbers. Tax collectors, who were considered the lowest form of life, went to John. They had nowhere else to turn. Even soldiers – Roman soldiers! – went out into that forbidding wasteland to see John and to be baptized. John was “the real deal.” His words had the ring of truth and authority. And then there was the message John proclaimed – particularly the part where he said, “…all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”
So here we are today. We have heard that message from John the Baptist. We have answered the call of Jesus Christ.
What do we do now?
The first thing we can, and must, do is pray for peace. The Peace of God in our hearts sustains us and gives us the courage to dare to pray that there will yet be “peace on Earth, goodwill toward all.” That’s why we lit that peace candle this morning.
In the wake of the shootings this week, a phenomenon occurred that surprised me. Maybe you saw it, too, or read about it. After the shootings, many people, politicians and others, called on all of us to pray for the victims, their families, and the first responders. I thought that was completely appropriate. Throughout Christian history, that has always been the first response of faithful people like us – that’s how we have always shown our empathy and solidarity with those who suffer.
But there was a huge and negative backlash against this by many people. The first page of the December 3rd issue of the New York Daily News, for example, excoriated some of the candidates and politicians for soliciting prayers for the victims. Other news outlets did the same. This has given rise to a new term in America: “Prayer shaming.” Yes, friends, it has actually come to that – people who ask for prayers for those who suffer are shamed and ridiculed for it!
Well, keep praying, anyway.
I think the underlying reason why there’s this thing called “prayer shaming” now is that people are afraid that that’s all some of us will do in the face of such heartless acts. I think that fear is largely misplaced. Praying for others is all some people can do, and that’s just fine; but many others can and do pray, and then put their shoulders to the wheel and help in other ways. That is up to each individual.
But we must find those ways.
Above all, though, as week seek to usher in the Peace of God, as we try, each in his or her own way to prepare the way of the Lord in our hearts and in our lives, let us not forget the words of Jesus Himself: “I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.”
Nothing that happens in this world can ever change that!
In the Name of God, the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.