Advent 4 – Gaudate Sunday
There’s a lot going on in our world these days. A lot going on in our lives as we ramp up towards Christmas, the end of the year and a new political administration. And there’s a lot going on at church as well. We’re smack in the middle of the season of Advent and on this third Sunday, we light the pink candle and I’m wearing the pink vestments as we mark “Gaudate” or Rejoice Sunday.
Our first three readings emphasize the theme of joy as we’re encouraged to rejoice and sing, finding comfort and strength in God’s presence and trust in God’s deliverance. It’s a bit of a break from all the “end of the world as we know it” apocalyptic readings in Advent.
And then there’s John the Baptist. He’s like the proverbial you know what in the punch bowl, a real party pooper. He moves on from his baptizing role, dunking folks in the cold waters of the Jordan to his preaching gig, where he begins by insulting everyone, “You brood of vipers!”
He strips them of the security of their religious and ethnic identity and focuses on the actions that reflect the expectations of God and the righteousness that is in line with faithful living. He lays out specific, actionable items that demonstrate real repentance and create the conditions that welcome the coming of Holy One in their midst.
How do these themes of rejoicing and celebration mingle with the call to repentance and a change of life in preparation for the coming of the Messiah? And how do we live with sorrow at the conditions around us and the hope, love and joy that our faith offer?
Throughout the Bible, God’s people wrestle with this juxtaposition. It is often framed by the parallel concepts of justice and mercy. Our Judeo Christian tradition affirms that God is righteous and just. God’s judgements are sure and God’s condemnation of evil is clear. God alone is able to rightly judge innocence and guilt and to discern what lies in the human heart. What is not clear is how we apply those standards of justice in our own society. Do we treat drug users or incarcerate them? How are standards of justice influenced by race or economic status? Are there actions so heinous that we must put someone to death? How can imperfect human beings and the imperfect systems we create ever enact true justice?
Likewise with mercy. We affirm that God is merciful, slow to anger and of great loving kindness. Along with doing justice, we are to love mercy and to forgive as we are forgiven. The ultimate act of mercy is God’s willingness in Christ to endure suffering and death and yet to forgive and love the very ones who persecuted him.
But it’s not clear how to live this out on a daily basis. Some claim that all the assistance offered to those who are addicted is enabling their problems and ultimately harming them and society. An argument in favor of the death penalty is that some people and their actions are so evil that they cannot be allowed to go on living. Victims of domestic violence have been encouraged by their pastors to keep forgiving their abusers as Christ forgives them, often resulting in continued abuse. How do we balance justice and mercy?
Some of you have heard of the Equal Justice Initiative founded by an attorney, Bryan Stevenson. With a focus on the criminal justice system, the work of EJI looks at both individual cases where there are problems with conviction and sentencing as well as the system that creates the opportunity for unequal justice particularly towards the poor and people of color. For the opening devotion of our most recent Bishop’s Committee meeting, Susan Edwards directed us towards an interview with Stevenson on the 10th Anniversary of his book, Just Mercy. Maybe you’ve read it or seen the movie made from it. I recommend both.
If you have been to Montgomery Alabama, as those on our recent Civil Rights Pilgrimage have, you may have visited the Legacy Museum, Sculpture Park and Lynching Memorial created by EJI in that city that was once one of the primary centers of the slave trade. There, the connection between slavery, the Jim Crow South and our current state of mass incarceration is made clear through the exhibits, documents and research they do. I commend a visit to everyone who is able to do so. It is the single most impactful museum and national monument I have ever experienced.
At the heart of the work Stevenson is leading is the concept that it is not justice over mercy, mercy over justice or even justice and mercy, but rather we are delivered and set free by just mercy. As he writes in his book, “The power of just mercy is that it belongs to the undeserving. It’s when mercy is least expected that it’s most potent.” Although Stevenson is a lawyer, sometimes he sounds like a preacher! He speaks frequently of grace and of how we might extend it in some of our most difficult relationships.
We are not saved by judgement although right justice is essential for human flourishing. We are saved by grace. Throughout Scripture God’s grace and God’s judgement are not symmetrical. Over and over again, God does not exact destructive punishment in response to humanity’s unfaithfulness and disobedience. The exiles are brought home. The prodigal is forgiven. The disciples who betrayed and denied Jesus are given second and third chances. And God repeats the refrain, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.”
Even the uncompromising, prophetic, demanding preaching of John the Baptizer is summarized in the phrase, “So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people.” The good news is that the repentance that God’s justice calls for creates the space for God’s grace and mercy to work in and through us. It turns out that justice is not getting what one deserves, but rather what one needs.
This past week the staff and volunteers of Edible Hope finished clearing out everything from the basement of the Chapel. With a ton of hard work and assistance, we were able to open up in our new location this past Wednesday. It was a day of rejoicing. When I walked in, many of our guests were already there, having made their way to the new place. A full crew of cheerful volunteers were serving food and helping to organize the new set-up. Bernadette impressed everyone by figuring out how to operate the fancy, new internet controlled oven so there was delicious hot food available and the hard-working coffee maker survived the move and new installation to provide plenty of hot coffee. It felt like a miracle. Due to a generous donation, our guests even had food and coffee in our courtyard during the 7 days we had to shut down to complete the move. Once again, God provided more than we could ask or imagine. Grace and mercy abounded.
The following day we continued the work of clearing out the old kitchen and dining room. I worked with our new caretaker, Jack to go through all the remaining items in the Sacristy and storage area of our historic chapel. We will keep and reuse many items, but there are those that will be given to the diocesan Altar Guild for another congregation to make use of and others that were donated to Goodwill.
Moving is hard work. And clearing out 100 years of stuff from a place of worship, knowing that the building will be demolished is a consequential activity. Upsetting the operation of our 35 year feeding program was something we didn’t do lightly. It would have been easier to just let things fall apart slowly.
But mercy requires us to use the extra we have to meet the needs of others. Repentance means letting go of what might prevent us from fully serving our neighbors in love. We are giving up one of our coats – our current buildings – so that thousands of people who would otherwise not have housing will be able to live in security for years to come and a congregation that might otherwise be unable to afford to stay on this property will have a home for the next hundred years. At the same time, Edible Hope Kitchen will have the security and functional space needed to keep feeding anyone who comes to us in need.
I was terribly sad on Thursday. The joy of seeing everyone safe, warm and fed in our new space was eclipsed by the loss of the feeding ministry we hosted on our property. In the midst of these conflicting emotions I heard the promises of God this week. “God is in your midst. You will fear disaster no more.” “God will rejoice over you with gladness, he will renew you in his love, he will exult over you with loud singing as on a day of festival.” “God’s peace, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
On this Gaudate Sunday we get to sing. With our ancestors in the faith we will sing our way through fear and anxiety, pain and suffering and transition and change, even death itself. We will sing songs of praise, like the First Song of Isaiah as well as songs of lament like “What is the Crying at Jordan?” We will stand up and sing songs of protest, like the Canticle of the Turning, calling us and our society to repentance and a change of heart when we lose our way. And finally, we will sing a song of expectation, “Blest be the King Who’s Coming” as we await the dawn of Christ’s appearing, full of grace and mercy. Amen.
