The traditional theme of the third Sunday in Advent, marked visually for us in the one rose-colored candle on the Advent wreath, is expressed in our second reading from Philippians: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.” In the old church calendar this Sunday was called Gaudete Sunday, from the Latin Introit, or entrance verse for the day, the text of which was taken directly from today’s 2nd reading from Philippians. In that letter Paul explains the cause for our rejoicing: “the Lord is near.” In addition, the Lord’s nearness produces a joy that give us peace: “And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

The joy and peace of Christ come to us even though we live in a violent, chaotic, mean, and often joyless world, come to us even as our lives are subjected to the world’s fallness. This means that the cause of our rejoicing should produce a lifestyle and an approach to our fellow human beings that runs against the tide, and thus stands out as a unique witness to the Prince of Peace, who comes to renew the world in righteousness. We rejoice because, even as we are being seduced by the old world of sin and death, and as we are plagued by the ravages of evil, Christ comes to give us hope of a new and more glorious world, renews our lives, and turns our mourning into joy. The consequence of this, according to Paul, is that not only are those who await the Lord’s coming in joyful expectation free from worry—“Do not worry about anything,”but also in their dealings with the world they are to reflect the love and compassion of the Redeemer--“Let your gentleness,” Paul says, “be known to everyone.” Freedom from worry is linked with gentleness toward others.

Karl Barth drew out the implications of this passage, and in particular what Paul meant by his admonition to “let your gentleness be known to everyone”. Barth wrote: “What the community owes to the world, and each individual within it, is basically that in its life, and in the life of all its members, there should be attempted an imitation and representation of the love with which God loved the world. But this means that the Christian community cannot be against the world; it can only be for it…Where Christians are unwilling to love [their fellow human beings], how can they say that God loves them or that they are loved by God? They can only prove thereby that they are not too sure about this themselves, and perhaps that they are not even aware of it. For they themselves are only [human].” By this Barth intends to say that as human beings Christians share in the weakness, the doubt, and the sinfulness of fallen humanity, subject as Luther would say, and yes even as Christians, to sin, death, and the power of the devil. This is what Barth really means when he goes on to say that as humans Christians “are always non-Christians as such. As the friends of God they are also His enemies, as believers godless. Their decisive presupposition in respect of every [fellow human being]”—and this is Barth’s point about the distinctiveness of the Christian life—can be only that Jesus Christ has died for his [i.e., the neighbor’s] sin too, and for his salvation. [Christians] must regard and approach every [human being] from this angle. Hence they can never be against [any of their fellow human beings]. They can only be for them, not just theoretically but practically, with their action or intention, their speech or silence, their intervention or toleration, as they procure space and courage and joy for them simply as [human beings].”

The advice given here, based on our joyful experience of Christ’s saving presence, is two-fold: to live without anxiety, and then as we are fortified with “the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding,” to extend ourselves to one another and to the world with charity, understanding and gentleness.

We are living in anxious times: in an anxious world where corruption is rampant and prospects for peace are always slipping through our fingers; in an anxious church worldwide, whose integrity is threatened from within and from without; and in an anxious denomination in which currently, whether rightly or wrongly, tensions related to its mission, leadership, policy and direction are running high.

And still on this day we rejoice (“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice”). Where do we find the motivation to rejoice? Just look around at the world’s, the church’s, and our own personal pains and anxieties. Where’s the joy? Our joy comes, not from ourselves, not from an anxious world, nor if I dare say so from an anxious church, but from the concluding line of today’s Psalm: “Shout aloud and sing for joy, O royal Zion, for great in your midst is the Holy One of Israel.” The Holy One of Israel has come into our midst? Yes, he comes. He comes as a baby born in Bethelehem, who immediately after his birth had to flee for his life because of the rage of a frightened and jealous king, and grew up destined to die humiliated and unjustly condemned at the hands of cruel and uncomprehending men. The Holy One of Israel does not avoid the world’s anxieties and troubles, but rather he enters into the midst of them; nor does God remove us to some safe and secure location, but rather he gives us the courage and the fortitude to face up to them, and to face up to them so that we, with God’s help and saving presence and by the power of Jesus’ resurrection from the dead, finally may overcome and defeat them. That is why, I think, we hear those harsh words from John the Baptist: “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?” To the eyes of faith, all the troubles and anxieties we face, all the chaos and suffering we see around us along with the apparent triumph of evil, are not so much unexplainable disasters as they are signs, signs not only of the world’s desperate need of judgment and renewal, but signs of the coming of a new and more glorious day that already is brightening on the horizon. For the faithful, even the apparent absence and weakness of God can be a sign of God’s power and presence, a sign of God’s deep presence among us, for he accompanies us all the way into the throes of our abandonment and death. As Luther said, in Christ God is the God who is “deep in the flesh,” and he is that to such an extent that God is in fact closest to us just when he seems to be farthest away--as he was, for example, on the cross.

This means that right now, even as the world’s, the church’s, and our personal anxieties and fears, hound, engulf, and taunt us, we are the recipients of Zephaniah’s message of hope: “Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem! The Lord has taken away the judgments against you, he has turned away your enemies. The king of Israel, the Lord, is in your midst; you shall fear disaster no more.”

With those hopeful words still ringing in our ears we return to Paul, to his advice not to worry, and to his admonition that we let our gentleness be known to everyone. These are, after all, fruits of faith in the God whom Zephanaiah described as in our midst, a warrior who gives victory, and the One who will renew us with his love [cf. Zeph. 3:17].

I suggest we might find ways to produce these fruits—at least these fruits right now, as a starting-point, if nothing else: the fruits of patience, forbearance, freedom from worry, gentleness—as together we tackle the anxieties currently plaguing our own church. Our gospel reading points out today that we are baptized with the Holy Spirit and with fire, i.e., a purging, cleansing fire, as the Messiah comes to judge the world and also the church, separating the wheat from the chaff. We could easily take this chaff to refer to those with whom we disagree. We need to remember, however, that this same winnowing takes place within each one of us as well. The chaff in each of us will be destroyed when he comes to judge the world in righteousness. So, as the Baptist reminds us, and as we deal with our own anxieties, we must bear fruits that are worthy of repentance. Only as we bear such fruits, fruts e.g., such as patience and gentleness, may we truly and authentically rejoice, not in the rightness of our own cause, but in him who comes to make all things, including each and every one of us.

-Amen-