A Sermon for the Third Sunday of Advent

This past Sunday, December 17, I preached the following sermon based on the Song of Mary (Magnificat) and Isaiah 61:1–4;8–11. I had a request for a copy of the text, and it made most sense to share it here.

For the third time this Advent, we have sung, “Tell out my soul, the greatness of the Lord.” The melody is upbeat; the lyrics expansive. Take, for example, the third verse:

“Tell out, my soul, the greatness of his might!

Powers and dominions lay their glory by;

proud hearts and stubborn wills are put to flight,

the hungry fed, the humble lifted high.”

But as much as I love that particular metrical setting of the Song of Mary from Luke’s Gospel, during the past two months, I’ve been repeatedly reciting the words of the Magnificat as they are written in the Prayer Book:

“…[God] has shown the strength of his arm,

he has scattered the proud in their conceit.

He has cast down the mighty from their thrones,

and has lifted up the lowly.

He has filled the hungry with good things,

and the rich he has sent away empty….”

Except I’ve not been reciting these words as words of comfort.

Rather, I’ve been praying them through gritted teeth and tear-filled eyes.

I’ve been praying the words as a daily lament.

I’m lamenting a world where terrorists torture and slaughter innocents.

And I’m lamenting a world where, in the name of national security, a government bombs hospitals and even more innocents are slaughtered.

Helpless babies are helpless babies — no matter which side of a political or ethnic line in the sand they happen to be.

The promise of prophetic literature — whether the song of Mary or the stirring words we heard from Isaiah a few minutes ago — is that God’s mercy and God’s justice will, in God’s good time, set all things right.

But I want God to right the wrongs of this world RIGHT NOW!

I want God to show God’s strength in a vivid and unmistakable display of Divine omnipotence that obliterates human sin once and for all and drowns it forever under the deluge of God’s righteous mercy.

Because the images we’ve seen from Israel and Gaza since October 7 have shown us, once again, the cruelty, agony and destruction human beings can wreak upon our neighbors, and the ways we can always justify our violence.

I can’t imagine the terror unleashed during the attacks in October.

I can’t imagine the terror of living under a sky that rains bombs.

I can’t imagine living in an environment where every day only magnifies distrust and the desire for revenge, reinforcing the walls of hatred and fear which have endured for millennia.

And, truth be told, to see the reporting of these events in our own news media punctuated by advertisements for “the perfect Christmas gift,” is an absurdity which only makes sense when we remember the gears of capitalism must grind on for the good of our GDP — the rest of the world be damned.

All of this is why the photo on the front of this morning’s bulletin has been such a powerful icon for me in my recitations of the Magnificat during the past few days.

The photo comes from the Evangelical Lutheran Christmas Church in Bethlehem. Earlier this month, the church unveiled this poignant Nativity display which is meant to symbolize the destruction happening in Gaza. The Baby Jesus lies swaddled in a distinctive patterned Palestinian scarf, atop a pile of rubble. The shepherds and the magi are there, but before they can get to the Baby, they’re going to have to traverse the destruction surrounding him. The pastor of the church said the display was intended to portray the suffering of families in Gaza.

Like any artistic expression, this Nativity scene has provoked some strong reactions. Plenty of people have objected to the church in Bethlehem using the Baby Jesus to make such an overt political statement. Except in Christian theology, the Incarnation IS a political as well as a theological statement.

In Christian theology God chooses to show God’s strength in the paradox of self-limitation. God shows up in human history — not riding a chariot of fire, flinging lightning bolts of judgment, but in the fragility of human flesh. The Holy One of Israel, the salvation, the healing, and the hope of all nations is the One who dwelt in the time before time itself. Then, at a particular time, the Son of God journeys into the far country of human sinfulness to redeem it through the power of love.

“The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to provide for those who mourn in Zion — to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit…”

These words of Isaiah are the words Jesus reads on the occasion of his first sermon in Nazareth at the beginning of his ministry. His opening comment upon finishing his reading? “Today the scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

Two thousand years on, the hope of God for the world is still an embodied hope.

Between the birth of the Baby Jesus and the return of the Resurrected Jesus at the end of the age, the Body of Christ as the Church continues to proclaim God’s Good News which binds up the brokenhearted, liberates captives and releases humanity from its shackles of hatred and shame.

The Church’s mission is to be at work in the rubble created by human sinfulness.

We witness to a God who became flesh and dwelt among us by refusing to allow our faith to become abstracted and disembodied from the world around us.

Make no mistake, as much as we might wish otherwise, there are no easy solutions to the maladies of our age, but we do not lose hope.

We work for justice.

We pray for peace.

We refuse to allow the false narratives of terrorism and war to be the last word in this world.

“For as the earth brings forth its shoots, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up, so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring up before all the nations.”

Come, Thou long expected Jesus

Born to set Thy people free;

From our fears and sins release us,

Let us find our rest in Thee.

Born Thy people to deliver,

Born a child and yet a King,

Born to reign in us forever,

Now Thy gracious kingdom bring.