Sermon — December 1, 2024
The Rev. Greg Johnston
“How can we thank God enough for you?” (1 Thess. 3:9)
Advent is a season of contrasts. The sense of quiet anticipation in the Advent liturgy of the church contrasts with the frenzy and exhaustion of the Christmas Season on our calendars and advertisements. The beauty and joy that we associate with the coming of the Christ child at Christmas contrasts with the chaos and confusion of “the Son of Man coming in a cloud” on some frightful future day. The words of Paul this morning, offering his heartfelt gratitude and prayers for the Christian disciples in Thessalonica contrasts with Jesus’ words of warning and vigilance delivered to the disciples when they are in Jerusalem.
We can talk about this contrast in a number of different ways. So for example, you might describe Advent as a season in which we prepare both for the first coming of Christ, in the birth of that sweet little child on Christmas Day, and for the second coming of Christ, on some future day, when we will finally stand before the Son of Man. Or, you might think of Advent as a time when our readings and our prayers tend to emphasize the fact that Christian life is always both “now” and “not yet”; when the promises God gives us in Christ have already begun to be realized and have not yet been fulfilled. God has already now established a kingdom of peace and love on the earth, but it has not yet fully taken hold. God has already now invited each one of us to begin a new life of faith and hope and love, but we are not yet perfect practitioners of faith, or hope, or love.
It can sometimes feel strange to live suspended between these two extremes. It can be alarming to come back to church after a Thanksgiving break, or maybe longer, ready to get into the Christmas spirit, ready to remind yourself of “the reason for the season,” and to be told instead that “there will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves!” (Luke 21:25) It can be discouraging, year after year, to hear prophecies of “justice and righteousness in the land,” to hear that “the days are surely coming” when “Jerusalem will live in safety,” and then to look around at our world, wondering where that justice and righteousness may be, wondering when Jerusalem, or Beirut, or Khartoum, or Kyiv will live in safety. It’s hard to be told, again and again, that we have been given the gift of eternal life, and then to say goodbye to people we have loved and be left with only the hope that we will see them again some day.
Advent is a season of contrasts, but here’s the thing: Our ordinary lives right run down the middle. Advent is the First Coming and the Second, the Now and the Not Yet, the Promise and the Fulfillment, and “Here I am, stuck in the middle with you.”
In just a few minutes, I’ll baptize Hugo Watson. And baptism fits, in a strange way, with this “now and not yet” truth of Advent.
In the Episcopal Church we practice both adult and infant baptism. In other words, baptism is available, of course, to adults or older children who haven’t been baptized before and are beginning a life of faith. But it’s also available to infants, and to young children, who may not even be able to speak for themselves, let alone articulate their own beliefs. And that’s actually the norm, across the church, right now and for, oh… 16 centuries or so.
Of course, I could explain this to you historically. If you’d like the detailed historical account, come ask me at coffee hour. But I think that there’s a deeper spiritual truth at play. We don’t require people to come to a full understanding of faith before they can be baptized because we know that in this life, our faith, like all God’s work, is always both “now and not yet.” We are, already now, journeying along the long road toward God. And we have not yet any of us, however old or young, arrived in the place where we will see God face to face.
But we do not journey alone. In baptism, each one of us is brought into the community of the Church. And I hope you can hear the capital “C” in that. We are not only baptized into the community of St. John’s Episcopal Church, Charlestown, but into the one, holy, catholic—which just means “universal”—and apostolic Church with a capital C, the one Body of Christ of which all Christians are members. But we are also members of this particular church, because while the united life of the Church universal is not yet been revealed, we have the life of this church now.
In our baptismal prayers, we turn away from all the spiritual forces of evil in this world. We turn toward Christ. And then soon enough, we turn to Coffee Hour. And that’s no less a holy thing. Because while God’s work in us has already begun, it is not yet complete, and here we are—stuck in the middle with each other.
So like I said at the beginning—well, like Paul said, at the beginning— “How can we thank God enough for you in return for all the joy that we feel before our God because of you?” (1 Thess. 3:9) He writes these words to a group of Christians in Thessalonica, a church that he himself had founded during his travels spreading the good news. He’d been run out of town when he was there—as was often the case for Paul—but the people he’d gotten to know there are still in his prayers.
And I find myself feeling the same way, on this post-Thanksgiving Sunday, this baptism Sunday, this first Advent Sunday, and I find myself asking, “How can I thank God enough for you in return for all the joy I feel before our God because of you?” Not because of who you will one day be, in some heavenly reality where all our imperfections fade away. But because of you, who you are now, each one of you. Some of you I know very well. Some of you don’t really want to be known. Some of you have only stepped foot in this place for the first time. But I thank God for each one of you, for walking together for at least a little part of this journey.
Because every one of us is still a work in project. Every one of us is still waiting for God to fulfill the promises God has made. Every one of us is still praying for the strength to face the things we face right now, let alone in days to come. But we have God to accompany us along the way. And we have one another, too; to share those burdens and to celebrate those joys, to live life together as the beloved community of God.
So “may the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all, just as we abound in love for you. And may he so strengthen your hearts in holiness that you may be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints.” Amen. (1 Thess. 3:12-13)