god has a place for you: 3rd sunday in advent

the first reading is zephaniah 3:14-20.

the second reading is philippians 4:4-7.

the gospel according to luke, the 3^rd chapter, glory to you, o lord.

⁷John said to the crowds that came out to be baptized by him, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? ⁸Bear fruits worthy of repentance. Do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. ⁹Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.”

¹⁰And the crowds asked him, “What then should we do?” ¹¹In reply he said to them, “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.”

¹²Even tax collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him, “Teacher, what should we do?” ¹³He said to them, “Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.”

¹⁴Soldiers also asked him, “And we, what should we do?” He said to them, “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.”

¹⁵As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, ¹⁶John answered all of them by saying, “I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. ¹⁷His 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.” ¹⁸So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people. 

the gospel of the lord, praise to you, o christ.

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rev. michael fick, a pastor in chicago, translates john’s question to the crowd as, “what’s the matter with you, humanity?”  and this week has been a week when i want to join john in asking, “what’s the matter with you, humanity?”

two mass shootings in one week, in addition to the hundreds of other shootings in our country and our world that don’t receive the same national and international attention.  at the beginning of the month we had our own high-profile shooting right here in kansas city, yet we’ve had many more that aren’t even a blip on the national radar—it seems that every time i go to the kansas city star website there is news of yet another death.

we each have our own reactions and responses when we hear of more violence, each of us have memories that are triggered—of friends and loved ones, of images, phone calls, and tv screens.

i was in middle school when dylan klebold and eric harris attacked the students and staff at columbine high school in littleton, colorado.  at that point it was the worst school shooting in us history and the only one i was aware of at all.  we had family friends in littleton, at columbine when it happened.  

i remember coming home and hearing the news.  i remember when the national rifle association came to denver less than two weeks after the shooting for its annual convention.  i remember the lock-down drills that we’ve had in school ever since then.  i remember the friends i worked with at camp who graduated from columbine.  the reports came out and the explanations and reasons were put forward, but the question that remained unanswered—and does so still today—is “what’s the matter with you, humanity?”

what’s the matter with you, humanity—when children are killed in the places we think are safest?  what’s the matter with you, humanity—when people are shot on the streets of our cities and it hardly even counts as news anymore?  what’s the matter with you, humanity—when access to a gun is easier than access to mental health care?  what’s the matter with you, humanity, when lives are taken in suicide, homicide, and even just in accidents? 

the problem when i cry with john, “what’s the matter with you, humanity?” is precisely that i             am            a part    of   humanity, and so i am also confronted with my implicit involvement in the death of innocent children.  and that is overwhelming, because how can anyone stop all of the violence in our city, let alone our country or our world?!

but i understand the question of the crowd: “what then should we do?”  the sins of the world are all             too overwhelming, how can we possibly do anything or bear any fruits worthy of repentance?  how could anything i do matter in the grand scheme of things?

but john is there.  recognizing the overwhelming feeling of the sins of the whole world and the crowd’s participation in them, john gives us a starting point: share.  you know that special coat you save to wear on the sabbath?  share it instead—kindness and generosity are more important than religiosity.  you made a big dinner?  invite the homeless person who sleeps on the bench or the steps or the person on food stamps to join you.

even the tax collectors, known for cheating people out of their money, and soldiers, known as bullies, violently intimidating people for what they want, come for a baptism of repentance and when they ask john “what should we do?” he has his answer: do your job with integrity.  he doesn’t tell them to break ties with the occupying roman forces—to separate completely.  instead he tells the tax collectors: don’t take more money than you ought; and tells the soldiers: no more shake downs, be satisfied with your wages.

in this world in which we live, there is no black and white.  as sirius tells harry in the movie, harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban, “the world isn't split into good people and death eaters. we've all got both light and dark inside us.”  or, to put it in lutheran terms, we are each simultaneously sinner and saint. 

so john tells us to live in this messy world with integrity. 

his advice is small and concrete. 

one of the pictures that has popped up with the most frequency in the last couple of days is a picture of fbi agents walking a group of children in a single file line to safety.  the children are lined up with their hands on the shoulders of the person in front of them so that they stay together. 

that is what john is calling on us to do.  to put our hands on each other’s shoulders and move forward one step at a time.  to join together.  to take small, manageable steps forward.  those steps look different for each of us. 

for some, it’s making sure each child in your life knows that you love them and has room to ask questions about what happened.  for some, it’s addressing the laws that make it far too easy to get a gun.  for some, it’s addressing the laws and societal structures that make it far too difficult to get mental health care.  for some it is going back to school and defying the fear attempting to take over, trusting in the one, who is more powerful than any of us, the one who is coming.

share what we can, do what we can, trusting that what we have and what we do is enough and that with god it is more than enough. 

and yet, the questions that slip, unbidden from our lips, are not only “what’s the matter with you, humanity?” but also, what’s the matter with you, god?  what’s the matter with you, god—that you let this happen?  where were you?  where are you now?  what’s the matter with you, god—that we are still waiting for you to fulfill your word through zephaniah to bring us home and gather us all—in safety and peace?  what’s the matter with you, god—that we are still waiting, waiting, waiting for the peace of god, which surpasses all understanding?  what’s the matter with you, god—that lives are taken from us before we are ready?

and here we learn from zephaniah, a prophet to the israelites in exile.  they too were survivors of tragedy and of crime, trying to find a new way without their homes or their temple or their loved ones.  and we learn from paul in his letter to the philippians as he sat in jail, expecting for his life to end there.  we are reminded by them what it is about this god that gets us through.  we know a god who comes as the most vulnerable among us and dies the worst death imaginable, and yet proves that death is not the final answer. 

as christians, we trust in the god who comes to us, to be with us, god incarnate as jesus the christ.  christ, who weeps with us over death.  christ, who frees us from death; christ, who conquers death and makes the final word a word of love and freedom.  

christ comes as the least of these to make clear to us who gather in shock and sorrow: 

god loves you and god has a place and a role for you.  in baptism we are told: you belong and you are god’s beloved.  

and that belonging and love give us the hope and the confidence to: rejoice in the lord always; again i will say, rejoice.  

and the peace of god, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in christ jesus.

amen and thanks be to god.