December 6, 2015

Susan Adams

Advent 2     Malachi 3:1-4     Luke 3:1-6

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I was complaining to John the other day that I always seem to preach 'political' sermons, sermons that seem to be a challenge either to action or to thinking – action and thinking in relation to our world and our faith and theology. He responded by asking me 'What season is this in the liturgical calendar?' And, 'Are you intending to preach the Gospel?' To which I replied 'Advent' to the first question and then 'yes' to the second. I thought about it a bit then I remembered what I used to say to students "Any half good sermon should be a message to yourself." So here I go again in the hope of challenging myself with the gospel once more – and perhaps you too.

When we watch the news unfolding on TV we are presented with unfathomable violence in Syria and terror perpetrated by ISIS; mindless gun violence in the USA; incomprehensible poverty in this land that forces children and families to live in cars and an increase in food parcels; the dreadfully sad breakdown of relationships that sees women and men murdered by people they once loved; political manoeuvring to keep 'self' in power; pay-rises and bonuses awarded to those with already eye-watering incomes; and decisions by leaders that ignore the plight of our planet earth in favour of increasing consumption. We are seeing history made by war generals, politicians, the power-hungry and the profit-mongers.

Then we come to church, perhaps seeking an antidote to the horror or in the hope of hearing stories that build up our faith; that bring us comfort. And we hear "Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked path shall be made straight and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God." Great, we might think, I can hope for that, ... but we need to pay attention to the beginning of the reading set for today, the bit where Luke sets out the historical context!

That is where we hear that it was the 15th year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and Annas and Caiaphas were high priests. All who heard the writings of Luke would have known what this was telling them – what was encoded in that little bit of history. They would have know that when John began preaching his message of repentance and baptism Tiberius from his base in Rome was engaged in a bloody purge of anyone who seemed to be in opposition to him and the Roman rule, Herod was bleeding the treasury in Galilee dry, and eventually, in about AD29, was responsible for decapitating John the Baptist; and Pontius Pilate authorised Jesus' crucifixion only a few years later. The times were terrible – we are hearing stories about politicians, war generals, the power-hungry and the profit mongers!

John the Baptist in many ways was a 'voice in the wilderness' calling for repentance, for a change of mind amongst the leaders, for a conversion to a different way. It might seem to us he was dreaming of seemingly impossible changes that would bring about a world of peace with justice and love in the face of the corruption and violence he and his contemporaries were experiencing. And his cousin Jesus took up the 'dream' too, also calling for a change of heart and mind, for a broadening of the horizons of compassion. He was directly confronting those in places of power while at the same time building a people's movement to oppose the corruption, marginalisation and social disregard that was rife. Both Jesus and John demand a change in behaviour, as well as mindset, amongst their followers in how they treated each other and in what they were prepared to accept. They demanded a change amongst those with power in relation to their priorities and their sense of responsibility. Both men reached back to the first Testament prophets and wisdom teachers to give substance to the dream of a new and redeemed world, a world saved from despair. Both men were killed within a few years of each other. We should not be surprised about that. We too know what happens to those who speak and act contrary to prevailing power.

We could tell a version of Luke's story in our own time citing Syrian leadership and ISIS, noting the supply of weapons of war from Russia and countries in the western alliance; we could tell of the migration of millions of refugees trying to escape the horrors of their homeland; we could point to racism and sexual violence and to poverty here in our homeland; we could name those in leadership – presidents and dictators, CEOs and those holding ministerial office – all leading the way to water shortages, and poverty, to rising sea levels, to war and to the continuing abuse of women and children. We know the names of many of them. Do we have the courage to shout out about it, to be voices in the wilderness in our own time demanding repentance, demanding a change of mind about what is important in earth today? Are we preparing to doing that? As Bishop John said last week "There are no easy answers to any of it. But we can speak out."

We know that the primary theme in the liturgical season of Advent is preparing, getting ready. This year I have dared to confront myself and ask "For what? What am I preparing for as these weeks unfold?" In church we say in all seriousness 'we are preparing for the birth of the Christ Child' – the one we sing about as the hope of the world, the child of peace, the child of love. But the Advent readings we hear are not about that baby... they are about the world of 2000+ years ago, the horrors of corrupt leadership, and the desperate need for different thinking – for a change of mind and a broadening of vision. They are about not losing hope in the dream of a world where peace and hope and love are key markers in decisions and relationships. We need to be prepared to keep the dream alive even in the face of today's horrors.

John the Baptist, and then Jesus, the dreamers, were killed: one decapitated and one crucified. But the dream of peace with justice that empowered their lives has reached through the centuries to us. They leave us with a sacred and solemn charge. Does it still have power enough to challenge us to change our expectations of what is 'normal', to change our minds and our attitudes and behaviours about how we – all the people of the earth – live together and manage our finite resources?

I read somewhere once "we can choose to do justice out of love, or we can choose to be violent out of pain." There are lots of people today for whom violence seems to be the choice. For those of us who gather in holy places such as this and hear the stories of John the Baptist and Jesus and others, our ancestors in the faith, the invitation is to choose to do justice out of love. That requires courage.

Are we preparing for what this means for us in the coming year?