Fourth Sunday of Advent 2017

2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16 (and Romans 16:25-27) and Luke 1:26-38

How do we think about the first Christmas? We tend to imagine it as a flying-by-the-seat-of-your-pants affair, with Joseph and Mary getting to Bethlehem at the last minute and scrabbling to find somewhere for her to give birth. But this idea could not be further from the truth. I put it to you that the birth of Jesus was the single most carefully planned event in human history.

The Gospels tell us that Mary was married to Joseph, and that Joseph was a descendant of king David. Now, king David’s descendants had long-since lost their throne. Jerusalem had been defeated by the Babylonians, the people taken into exile, and even after the return from exile the Davidic monarchy was not restored. By the time of Jesus’ birth, there was a new King of the Jews, Herod the Great, appointed by the Roman senate. Long-since displaced from Jerusalem, it would appear that at least some of those who claimed Davidic descent had ended up back in Bethlehem, the place David came from.

Joseph was a builder of houses by trade, and it appears that he was working in Nazareth, in Galilee, to the north. But, against a backdrop of Roman occupation, Joseph takes his bride to live in his hometown of Bethlehem, a town whose name means House of Bread. It was the cultural practice for a groom to add a room to his parents’ house and bring his bride there to start out their married life together; and so, it is the most likely expectation that Joseph and Mary were living with Joseph’s relatives at the time of Jesus’ birth.

Now, we have all heard that there was no room in the inn. There is a Greek word for a commercial inn, and Luke uses it in recounting Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan. And then there is a Greek word that means the guest room of a family home. Luke uses that word to describe the room where Jesus ate the Last Supper; and to describe the room that had no room at Jesus’ birth. In other words, Joseph and Mary were living in a house, but the room in which they were staying did not have enough room for Mary to give birth. Jesus is born in the main room of the house, at one end of which animals were kept at night, and put to bed in the animals’ manger.

Now, I want you to hold that in your mind as we turn back to our reading from the Old Testament. King David is settled in his own house, in Jerusalem, and decides that it is not right for him to live in a house while God still must make do with a tent, the tabernacle that had travelled with the people on their journey through the wilderness. David decides to build God a house; but, through the prophet Nathan, God declares that he does not want David to build him a house. Instead, God declares, he will build David a house: that is, establish David’s dynasty.

Have you noticed all this word-play going on? House as building, and house as family line, and the town known as the House of Bread, and the descendant of David who is a builder of houses?

God allowed David’s son Solomon to build him a house, the temple in Jerusalem. That house had been destroyed twice, and rebuilt twice. Indeed, the third temple was being built, by Herod the Great, at the time of Jesus’ birth. But God is not overly-invested in the rebuilding of his house, which will be destroyed a third time in 70AD. God is rebuilding David’s house. The son that Mary will bear, born in the home of some of David’s descendants, will restore the throne of David, whom God called his son (see, for example, Psalm 2).

Why is God more concerned about (re)building David’s house than having a house of his own? Because, in Jesus, God comes to restore humanity as those through whom his reign of justice, mercy, and righteousness is exercised in the world; and to overthrow his enemies, all that is opposed to such a good and free and harmoniously-ordered creation.

No, Jesus’ birth was not an exercise in chaos-management, but carefully constructed according to well-drawn plans. This Christmas, as we once again crowd into that room in Bethlehem to see the new-born king, let us do so confident in God’s amazing faithfulness and great goodness towards his covenant people. And let us say, with David and with Mary, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

Third Sunday of Advent 2017

(Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11 and) 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24 (and John 1:6-8, 19-28)

This morning we will be taking part in our Nativity—but you will have to wait a little longer first. Waiting. That is the theme of Advent. We are waiting for Jesus to return. We are always waiting, but it is easy to forget that, caught up as we are in the cares and concerns of everyday life. And so, each year, we return once again to a season of attending to our waiting. An annual health-check.

When I was a child, when the bell went to indicate that playtime was over we had to line up in our classes and wait for a teacher to come and send us back inside, one class at a time. On cold days, the teachers did not necessarily want to move from their warm staff room. We would be left in the cold, no longer running around to keep warm; and inevitably the chorus would go up, ‘Why are we wait-ing? Teacher’s hi-ber-nat-ing!’ Perhaps that is how you feel about waiting for the Lord’s return?

Paul’s first letter to the church in Thessalonica is all about waiting.

Thessalonica, in northern Greece, was the second place in Europe where Paul and his companions planted a church. They arrived from Philippi, where they had been beaten and imprisoned without trial; and after only a few weeks in Thessalonica they had to move on again, after a mob of ruffians set the city in an uproar against them. You can read about it in Acts chapters 16 and 17.

(The cause of the uproar was that they had arrived proclaiming ‘that there is another king named Jesus’. Like Herod and the people of Jerusalem when visited by the magi ‘the people and the city officials were disturbed when they heard this’.)

Like Paul, the Thessalonians were waiting for Jesus’ return. Moreover, Paul was waiting for news from Thessalonica of the church: having received the gospel in the face of persecution, having grown in faith and love and hope under continuing persecution, how were they doing now? When he could bear it no longer, Paul sent his companion Timothy to Thessalonica to bring back a report. Now Timothy had just returned, bringing good news of their faith and love. Nonetheless, their hope had taken a knock, as while they were waiting for Jesus to return some of their number had died. What would happen to them? Jesus delayed in coming back: would they, having received him as king, miss out on his glorious kingdom?

Paul writes to reassure them, to enable them to grieve with hope, and not as others do who have no hope. He uses picture-language to convey those who have died and those who are living being caught up together in Jesus, who has died, is risen, and will come again. That is a hope we hold on to today, as we mourn Peter’s death and surround Minda with love.

Paul’s first letter to the church in Thessalonica is all about waiting.

How ought we to wait, as those who wait for Jesus?

Paul begins his letter in this way:

‘We always give thanks to God for all of you and mention you in our prayers, constantly remembering before our God and Father your work of faith and labour of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ … And you became imitators of us and of the Lord, for in spite of persecution you received the word with joy inspired by the Holy Spirit, so that you became an example to all the believers in Macedonia and in Achaia.’ (1 Thessalonians 1:2, 3, 6, 7)

And Paul returns to the beginning at the end of the letter, with the closing exhortations including:

‘Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.’ (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18)

How do we wait? We wait, rejoicing always. Or, always celebrating. That is, celebrating the good news that Jesus is our king, who saves us. We are to celebrate that news when life is good, and we experience in the present a foretaste of God’s coming kingdom; and we are to celebrate it when life is painful, and we long for the breaking-in of God’s kingdom for which we wait. That is why we celebrate Jesus in taking part in the Eucharist Sunday by Sunday, whatever is going on in the world, whatever is going on in our lives. Come again today, rejoicing, and be renewed in our waiting.

How else do we wait? We wait, praying without ceasing. That is, in the power of the Holy Spirit and through the Son we bring before the Father all our joys and sorrows, all our work and struggles, all our longing—and we don’t give up. We encourage one another to keep going. Paul made a regular practice of praying with his companions, because that way you get to share the burden of prayer, making the burden lighter, and the joy of answered prayer, making the joy weightier. What are you praying about at present? Where do you long to see Jesus come as king, turning the world up-side-down? And who else knows the prayer of your heart? Who prays it with you?

Finally, how do we wait? We wait, giving thanks in all circumstances. Not for all circumstances—some circumstances are hell—but, nonetheless, in all circumstances. Again, we focus not on the circumstances themselves, but on king Jesus. Like Paul and Silas singing hymns in the innermost cell of the prison in Philippi, there are times when we need to keep our spirits up, not by wishful thinking but by wilful thanking. It is like going running. On cold, dark winter nights, it takes some effort to go out for a run; but the mental health benefit is enormous. It is easier to run in company, and it is easier to run when it is a regular habit. The same is true of the discipline of thanksgiving. We need to encourage one another to be thankful, perhaps taking small steps to begin with, little and often, building up our capacity for thankfulness. Waiting for Jesus is a team game, a communal activity; and Advent is our boot camp, our C25K (couch to 5-kilometre-run) for beginners or the lapsed.

As we learn to wait, may the people of Sunderland come to know that our hope is in king Jesus, who came to us long ago and who will come again to judge the living and the dead, and whose kingdom shall have no end.