O God of the Prophets, grant us the strength, the wisdom and the courage to seek always and everywhere after truth, come when it may, and cost what it will.

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It’s the third Sunday of Advent; we are barreling toward Christmas, and we haven’t really heard any biblical readings about peaceful preparation for the birth of the Christ child. It’s been more about bulldozing and less about receiving blankets. Our ancient narratives describe nations at war, raging seas, devastation and disaster, with plenty of blame to go around. The people are anxious and afraid; they are struggling. And just to be clear, we are talking about 28 centuries of struggle. The people Zephaniah was addressing were struggling in about 625 BCE. The people Paul and Luke were addressing were struggling in the latter half of the first century of the common era. And the people I’m addressing are struggling in the early years of the 21st century.

Here’s what Zephaniah, son of African descent, says: There is good news in the midst of devastation and disaster, in the midst of the indignities that have been cause for shame and reproach, that have caused hands to grow weak with fear and despair. Zephaniah laments the corruption and injustice rampant in the city of God. The covenant of living in Love has been violated and the religious leadership is implicated once again. (Some things never change.) Zephaniah tells his hearers that in the midst of injustice and oppression, disaster and shame, uncertainty and fear, is the Holy One: there is, very near, a vigorous and mighty One Who is already rejoicing over the people with gladness, exulting and singing loudly, and renewing the people in Love The word here[1] rendered renew is better translated “engrave” – as a metal artist might inscribe a mark of belonging or a beautiful design. It can also be translated “plough” – as a farmer might cut a furrow for planting seeds. The Holy One will cause the people to be marked and prepared – opened up for Love. Judgment Day is cancelled, announces Zephaniah. It’s Nonjudgment Day. Rejoice because you are being inscribed and opened up for Love. And so I wonder about the engravings or furrowings among us as the people of Emmanuel. Where, in the middle of the chaos, is the Holy One opening up new lines for Love among us?

Our passage from Philippians this morning doesn’t give us the context for the writing, but the whole letter of Paul to the Jesus-followers in Philippi, was written from prison (probably in Ephesus), where Paul was awaiting trial and a possible death sentence. He was writing to a faith community with a turbulent past, to people with more than their share of pain. His instruction to rejoice and to not worry, then, is particularly striking and poignant to me, because he is taking a full accounting of fear and grief – of his own and theirs, of past and future. The rejoicing that Paul is encouraging is defiance, according to theologian Karl Barth. “’Joy’ in Philippians is a defiant ‘Nevertheless!’ that Paul sets like a full stop against the Philippians’ anxiety…” that things are getting worse and not better.[2] Rejoice, Paul writes, rejoice because of the unnumbered blessings you have already received. When Central Reform Temple hosted their beautiful annual Hanukkah lessons and carols, stories and songs, two Sundays ago, honoring and thanking eight Back Bay churches for being bright lights in the City of Boston, I felt that “nevertheless” defiant joy so powerfully in their generosity and their courage to fill this sanctuary with friends and strangers, taking a full accounting of fear and grief, and yet, without uniformed or armed security, without metal detectors and bag searches. It was the most beautiful Light Through the Ages celebration ever, and I felt the Holy One engraving our hearts, creating furrows in the hard ground for planting more seeds of Love.

In the Gospel reading from Luke. John the Baptist is yelling out at the people who came to be baptized by him, like “You spawn or offspring of vipers![3]….Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees….He will baptize you with fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire” and then the writer of Luke adds in his best story-telling voice, “with many other exhortations John the Baptist proclaimed the good news to the people.” That always makes me think, “boy, if that’s the good news, I’d hate to hear the bad news.”

And yet, my virtual friend Mark Davis writes in his Greek translation blog, that there is plenty of good news here. We just don’t hear it because we are conditioned to fear this language. John the Baptist talks about the wrath to come, but does not call it God’s wrath. John’s idea of offspring of adders evokes the inherited, generational nature of broken relationships, of injustice and oppression, and that they are not behaving the way children of Abraham should behave. They have been participating in systems of oppression, exploitation, and extortion and they must stop. They have been complacent in economies that work to make rich people happy and make everyone else afraid, and that must come to an end. John is declaring that, whether it is physical or financial or spiritual, whatever tempts us to behave badly toward one another must be separated from the clean grain, the nutritious bits, the good fruit. Davis points out that “there is nothing necessarily violent about a farmer cutting down a barren or soured tree and burning it, particularly if it might cross-pollinate with good fruit-bearing trees. This is a way of protecting the good trees and ensuring good fruit.”[4]

And what does good fruit mean? “What should we do?” the crowds asked. “What should we do?” the tax collectors asked. “What should we do?” the soldiers asked. John said, “Share your clothing and your food. If you have only a little, share a little. If you have a lot, share a lot. Do not take more than your portion – curb your greed, and your fear that you won’t have enough. Do not extort money by threats or false accusation to increase your wages. Exercise restraint. Stop victimizing people to leverage your own power by sucking up to people who have more power.” People, this is not rocket surgery, as my wife Joy loves to say.

Some of you know that a significant part of my sabbatical these last months was spent learning to read Qur’anic Arabic. I have a whole new set of dictionaries and grammar books that need shelf space in my study! My theological interest in the language of scripture, whether it’s Biblical Hebrew, Koine Greek, or Qur’anic Arabic, is to return to the sources of some of the great wisdom narratives to discover ways to help navigate the difficult movement from the Christocentric empire to the margins of our common life, as Western Christendom collapses. How can I read and tell the story of the people of God in a way that offers hope, in a way that builds up the beloved of God so that we all grow in generosity, resilience, and well-being?

I love learning vocabulary words most of all. Here is a nugget of gold that I found early on in my vocabulary study. In Arabic, the word kafir means unfaithful, disbelieving, and ungrateful. The ideas of infidelity, unbelief, and ingratitude are all covered with one word. It’s not about the head. It’s about the heart. It’s about honoring blessings that have already been received. In Arabic, believing is beloving, and it’s also gratefulness – gratefulness is the heart of prayer. (By the way, Gratefulness: The Heart of Prayer by Brother David Steindl-Rast is a book that changed my life about 25 years ago. I highly recommend it to you.)

Here’s another thing I’ve learned. Perhaps you already know that Qur’anic readings begin with what is called, “The Bismillah.” Bismillah, ar-rahman, ar-raheem. In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate. Although there are 99 names for God in the Qur’an, God’s preeminent or dominant attributes are mercy and compassion: Rahman and Raheem. The root of both of those words, rahm, means womb, where new life grows and is nurtured. Ah, that rings an Advent Gaudete bell, doesn’t it?!

Our hymns for the Third Sunday of Advent betray Christendom’s fondness for royal titles with the “king of kings” language, but what we already know is that our Jesus is no Caesar. Our Jesus is “the peasant of peasants,” “clad as are the poorest,” as our closing hymn today goes. And while our collect for the day today pleads for speedy delivery of grace and mercy to help and deliver us, what I am here to tell you is that the grace of God, the compassion and mercy of God, are already all around us. We have been soaking in the bountiful blessings of God. It is up to us to speedily honor the blessings with gratitude and to speedily respond in kind by rejoicing and sharing our resources, and extending the mercy and compassion of God in our every interaction. If that seems daunting because of your circumstances, just start with the people you encounter between now and noon! If that seems too easy, then see how far you can get into this day or this week and report back!

1. Charash can mean keep still or silent.  The NRSV translation of “renew” makes no sense to me at all but I might not know enough to understand.
2. Karl Barth in his commentary, The Epistle to the Philippians, found at www.goodreads.com/quotes.
3. D. Mark Davis, www.leftbehindandlovingit.blogspot.com posting on Sunday, December 9, 2018 for the third Sunday in Advent.
4. Ibid.