The mystery of Advent
Sermon for Advent III, 2023, delivered at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Louisville, KY
Text: Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11 and John 1:6-8,19-28
This is the third Sunday in Advent, and we are drawing close to the birth of Jesus. The church is adorned in rose colors this morning, not because it looks fashionable, but because we are halfway through this season of preparation and celebration. Advent has an air of mystery surrounding it, because we celebrate the birth of the Messiah, the Christ child, a baby. We have all been around babies, and as adorable as they are, it is hard to conceive how a helpless baby can accomplish as much in the world as Jesus did. Only two of the four Gospels talk about Jesus’ birth and the other two start with his ministry in his adult life. Compare that to the adults we watched grow up, and it is a mystery how they live adult lives when we remember them as infants. This mystery is underscored by the beginning of winter, when we prepare for Christmas in the dark of early evening and morning when we're not sure of where we are or where we are going in the darkness. We know something wonderful will happen soon, but we're not sure what it is, or what it means for us or what it means to us.
The people of Israel saw John as a mystery, baptizing people who came to him and calling them to repentance. They knew that the prophets written about in their scripture would return, so they sent priests and Levites to ask John if he was Elijah, or even the Messiah. When John said that he wasn’t, they didn’t know what to think. They were confused and asked him who he was if he was baptizing and not a prophet. This is where his role in the Gospel of John (a different John) comes into focus: he was a witness to the true Messiah to come, who would be greater than he was. This is different from the reference we often hear of John as the baptizer. It is different from how the Eastern Orthodox Church refers to him as John the predecessor, or Іоанн Предтеча (Yoann Predtecha) in Ukrainian. Whether a witness, a baptizer, or a predecessor, he was telling people about and preparing them for Jesus’ arrival and the life-changing encounter they would have when they met him. But the priests, the Levites, and the people still didn’t understand who John was talking about, and it remained a mystery who this true Messiah was or where he would come from. This brings us back around to the mystery of Advent, and we too ask who this Jesus is, and where does he come from.
The Gospel of John has several themes running through it, one of which is introduced early on, that is, light and darkness. John the witness, the baptizing predecessor, wasn’t bringing the light of God into the world, but he was telling us that the light was coming into a world of darkness. That message of the approaching light was, and is for us during these days of increased darkness, a symbol of hope that God would be nearby soon, aware of our struggles and fears, and assurance that we were forgiven our sins. For those who did not know a holy life or how to bring holiness into their lives, there was hope that the one to come would bring it to them. Jesus was that light, that hope, and that means of salvation as the Word of God, and is still all of those things for us today. John was a witness to the hope and light, that God would be here soon, but the mystery remains because how this would happen was and is difficult to imagine when life’s uncertainty overwhelms assurance, disappointment defeats celebration, and loss buries opportunities.
These dark parts of life bring grief and mourning for a life that had been predictable, fulfilling, and promising before whatever happened to bring it to an end. The overwhelming events or even those dark parts of our life that derail us can co-exist with the light of life, and it happens through the mystery of the birth of Jesus. When we embrace that mystery as we live in the dark, we learn to see where hope is absent and God seems far away, and we learn that we have an opportunity to bring comfort to those who also live in the dark. When we hold onto that mystery and walk in the darkness, we can walk with the lonely and rejected and bring them the good news that they are not alone, that we are walking with them and that God is nearby. When we bring that mystery out of the cold and dark into our hearts, we have the courage to reach out to those held captive by fear or who are prisoners in cells they have built for themselves and tell them that they can be free. This is what we hear in the passage from Isaiah, proclaiming liberty to the captives and that the prisoners would be set free. This is what John said was coming, and it is what Jesus did, to release people from shunning, stigma, being excluded, and seen as less than.
The story of Jesus’ birth as Luke tells it is found throughout our community, culture, and worship, and we will hear it in the readings next Sunday, Christmas Eve. It is a story of a baby being born in very humble surroundings, yet who grows up to do great things and embody hope that the world needed, and is still in need of today. The mystery of his origin, of how and why God involved a young woman to bring God’s Son, our savior, into the world, brings holiness to our lives as the mystery behind how we can find peace and love for all when we are surrounded by strife and discord. We have experienced the dark and cold of winter and know what it is like to live in it, and we have a way of walking out of it toward the light. That way is the way that Jesus showed us that can be experienced even in the dark, even in the strife, even in the cold of the absence of love. And that is the mystery of Advent that we live in, to be able to capture the love and hope when we see an infant, a new life, in the winter, in a shed.
The people of Israel saw John as a mystery, baptizing people who came to him and calling them to repentance. They knew that the prophets written about in their scripture would return, so they sent priests and Levites to ask John if he was Elijah, or even the Messiah. When John said that he wasn’t, they didn’t know what to think. They were confused and asked him who he was if he was baptizing and not a prophet. This is where his role in the Gospel of John (a different John) comes into focus: he was a witness to the true Messiah to come, who would be greater than he was. This is different from the reference we often hear of John as the baptizer. It is different from how the Eastern Orthodox Church refers to him as John the predecessor, or Іоанн Предтеча (Yoann Predtecha) in Ukrainian. Whether a witness, a baptizer, or a predecessor, he was telling people about and preparing them for Jesus’ arrival and the life-changing encounter they would have when they met him. But the priests, the Levites, and the people still didn’t understand who John was talking about, and it remained a mystery who this true Messiah was or where he would come from. This brings us back around to the mystery of Advent, and we too ask who this Jesus is, and where does he come from.
The Gospel of John has several themes running through it, one of which is introduced early on, that is, light and darkness. John the witness, the baptizing predecessor, wasn’t bringing the light of God into the world, but he was telling us that the light was coming into a world of darkness. That message of the approaching light was, and is for us during these days of increased darkness, a symbol of hope that God would be nearby soon, aware of our struggles and fears, and assurance that we were forgiven our sins. For those who did not know a holy life or how to bring holiness into their lives, there was hope that the one to come would bring it to them. Jesus was that light, that hope, and that means of salvation as the Word of God, and is still all of those things for us today. John was a witness to the hope and light, that God would be here soon, but the mystery remains because how this would happen was and is difficult to imagine when life’s uncertainty overwhelms assurance, disappointment defeats celebration, and loss buries opportunities.
These dark parts of life bring grief and mourning for a life that had been predictable, fulfilling, and promising before whatever happened to bring it to an end. The overwhelming events or even those dark parts of our life that derail us can co-exist with the light of life, and it happens through the mystery of the birth of Jesus. When we embrace that mystery as we live in the dark, we learn to see where hope is absent and God seems far away, and we learn that we have an opportunity to bring comfort to those who also live in the dark. When we hold onto that mystery and walk in the darkness, we can walk with the lonely and rejected and bring them the good news that they are not alone, that we are walking with them and that God is nearby. When we bring that mystery out of the cold and dark into our hearts, we have the courage to reach out to those held captive by fear or who are prisoners in cells they have built for themselves and tell them that they can be free. This is what we hear in the passage from Isaiah, proclaiming liberty to the captives and that the prisoners would be set free. This is what John said was coming, and it is what Jesus did, to release people from shunning, stigma, being excluded, and seen as less than.
The story of Jesus’ birth as Luke tells it is found throughout our community, culture, and worship, and we will hear it in the readings next Sunday, Christmas Eve. It is a story of a baby being born in very humble surroundings, yet who grows up to do great things and embody hope that the world needed, and is still in need of today. The mystery of his origin, of how and why God involved a young woman to bring God’s Son, our savior, into the world, brings holiness to our lives as the mystery behind how we can find peace and love for all when we are surrounded by strife and discord. We have experienced the dark and cold of winter and know what it is like to live in it, and we have a way of walking out of it toward the light. That way is the way that Jesus showed us that can be experienced even in the dark, even in the strife, even in the cold of the absence of love. And that is the mystery of Advent that we live in, to be able to capture the love and hope when we see an infant, a new life, in the winter, in a shed.
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