Scripture texts: Philippians 4:4-7, Luke 3:7-18
I used to have a bumper sticker on my car back when I lived in Davis. It was of a Fredrich Nietzsche quote: “Those who dance are thought mad by those who hear not the music.” It seemed a fitting statement of much of my life, with people looking on with bafflement at my enthusiasm for Star Wars or Lord of the Rings or any of my other geek habits and hobbies. But it’s also a good statement about faith, with atheists and other secularists looking upon all of us with bafflement as we stand in worship of a God-made-man who died on a cross 2000 years ago and, according to our claims, did the impossible thing of rising from the dead.
I love that quote still. It’s a wondrous expression of what it means to believe; that we are a people of joy and hope. That we dance in the darkness because we know the light has come.
That dance is not always easy to sustain. I have spent the last week astonished and disheartened at the unbelievable outpouring of hatred and paranoia from pundits and friends alike, directed at anyone seen as insufficiently American (read Muslims, blacks, gays, immigrants, refugees, etc.) I sat briefly at the bedside of a man my wife’s age, barely skin and bones and dying of cancer.
It is very hard to dance in the midst of all that.
I’ve said that line before in a pulpit much like this one, on the day I preached my beloved grandfather’s funeral 10 years ago. That’s probably not coincidental. We may dance because the light has come, but the darkness seems ever present and at times feels overwhelming. This, for me, is one of those times.
And yet this is Gaudete. This is the Sunday of Joy in the midst of our Advent preparations. The Sunday of pink. St. Paul calls us to rejoice in the Lord always and it is hard when the world seems so dire to follow his directive.
And yet, to use another quote, this one from the 2003 Luther film when Martin Luther is being told he is to go off to study to become a preacher, his mentor tells him “We preach best what we need to learn most.” And perhaps that is my purpose today, to find the joy again in the midst of these dark days.
On Friday night, many in our community gathered together to give out toys so needy families could have a decent Christmas celebration for their children. Last year, we helped 80 families. This year, it was over 40 families and over 100 children. We made a difference in the lives of many.
Thursday after I visited Freddie in the hospital, I raced home. I’ll confess I skipped my office hours that afternoon, because I didn’t want to be alone after what I witnessed. I wanted to hug my wife and daughter. I wanted to be with people, with my family. To cry on their shoulders. To scream my rage at the sky with them. I wanted to know they were there and they were.
Last night, when we were together at our Christmas party, there was a similar spirit. I wanted to know you were there and there you were. It is said that one of the great benefits of the Christian community is how the voice of the many speaks for those who cannot. Last night, we made merry together for those who cannot. We were with one another. Each of us Christ to one another.
When we look to the specifics of John the Baptizer’s teaching in our Gospel lesson, I think this is what it’s about. All of this is about being there for one another and for the world. If you have, give.
And you have given. Many of those toys on Friday came from people in these pews. You and your children and grandchildren gave joy by giving toys that might have otherwise collected dust in an attic or filled up that landfill down the street a ways.
And last night, we gave joy to one another. We feasted and celebrated, even if not all of us were quite in the mood. But that’s okay, because joy has an infectious quality. It spreads.
You know, there’s something utterly defiant about what we do as a Church. When we give to people in need, whatever the need, it’s like we’re screaming out in rage “It is wrong that people live so. That children have no Christmas. That parents have no food or medicine or opportunity. It is wrong that hearts are breaking. This is wrong and we will do something, however small, about it.”
John the Baptizer speaks across the ages, “If you see something wrong, do something about it. Because God is doing something about it. He’s sending his son!”
Because there is the greatest joy of all in this time and all times. The birth of our savior is not some mere historical novelty. The incarnation of Jesus is God’s checkmate against all that is wrong in this world. It’s his endgame. The final step that wins him and all of us the world that is meant to be. God does not stand by idly as the wrongness of our lives beats us down. He’s done something about it. He’s sent Jesus to live, die, and rise again for the sake of this world.
Jesus comes because there is hurt. Jesus comes because there is pain. Jesus comes because there is poverty and bigotry and violence. Jesus comes because there is death. And he comes to put these things right.
Oh, the pieces on God’s chessboard move on his timeline. It seems slow to us, but the game is already won. It’s like we’re in that moment when the defeated player hasn’t quite figured out he’s been outmaneuvered. God has won through the life, death, and resurrection of Christ. IT IS FINISHED!
God wins! You know, I’ve used that line a lot in recent weeks. It is quite accurately the proper interpretation, as I’ve said, of the Apocalyptic texts of the Bible. But really, not just them, but all of it. That’s what this day is really about. What this season is really about. No matter how dark things seem in our lives and in our world, God wins.
God has won. Now there’s something to dance to. Amen.
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