Questions

“But who may abide the day of His coming? And who shall stand when He appeareth? For He is like a refiner's fire.” These are the lines from an air in part 1 of Handel’s “Messiah.” Although it was actually written to be heard in Easter tide, “Messiah” is now often sung near Christmas. When we do hear it at this time of year, we often listen attentively to the opening tenor air, “Comfort ye, my people.” Then in our minds we rush ahead to “O thou that tellest good tidings to Zion.” We often miss, or we don’t pay attention to, these words from the prophet Malachi. Actually, this is a challenging air to sing. It’s even more challenging to hear. Do we really want to hear the questions it asks?

Actually, three of our four lections for today pose challenging questions, questions that are appropriate for Advent. Our Hebrew Bible reading, which we just heard sung, is from the prophecy of Malachi. Malachi is traditionally considered the last prophetic book. For Christians, it is the very last book in the Hebrew Bible. It is also the last prophetic book for Jews, although Jews place all the prophets in the middle of the Hebrew Bible, between the Torah and the other writings. Traditionally, Jews read this portion of Malachi on the Sabbath before Passover, as they look forward to hearing again the great story of God’s deliverance of the Israelites from slavery.

Malachi was written for those who had returned to Judea from Exile, i.e., after 515 BC. Although the returnees were under Persian rule, they were allowed to restore sacrificial worship and begin rebuilding the temple. The entire book, only four chapters, is actually a dialogue between prophet and people, in which the prophet challenges the people with God’s word, and the people respond. In the section we just heard, the prophet, speaking for God, announces the coming of God’s messenger. He flings challenging questions at the people: can you stand to be in the presence of God’s messenger? How will you respond when God’s messenger lays out all the ways in which you have strayed from God’s covenant with you? The prophet then warns them that God will subject them to cleansing processes that will transform them into the people God wishes them to be. Can you picture those processes? A refiner’s fire can reach 1500 degrees Fahrenheit. Fuller’s soap is an abrasive bleaching soap. The purification process that God desires will be painful indeed. But there’s also a promise. God will accomplish God’s purposes, so that indeed the people may offer appropriate worship as they rebuild the temple. When today’s Jews hear this promise on the eve of Passover, they hear a promise that they may some day be able to build a third temple – the first one, Solomon’s temple, having been destroyed by the Babylonians in 586 BC, and the second one, having been destroyed by the Romans in 70 AD. (The Temple Mount in today’s Jerusalem, sacred to Jews, Christians, and Muslims, is what remains of the second temple.)

Malachi’s questions to the people in his prophecy were explicit. In our reading from Paul’s letter to the Christians at Philippi, the question is implicit. This was probably the last of Paul’s letters. It was probably written from a Roman prison about 64 AD. As you heard, Paul thanks the Philippians for their gifts and support. Then he prays for them. As we hear Paul’s prayer, do we ourselves wonder, “Who will be ‘pure and blameless’ in the ‘day of Christ?’” Do we wonder what it will take for us to be “pure and blameless” when Christ comes to us?

There’s even an implied question in our gospel reading. At the moment, of course, we’re getting the story backwards. With the ministry of John the Baptist, we’ve jumped forward thirty years after Jesus’ birth, just before the beginning of Jesus’ own ministry. Here the evangelist shows us the adult John – the story of his birth comes before Jesus’ birth. In fact, in place of our psalm, we said what is called the Benedictus, from its first word in Latin, which is John’s father’s prophecy about John. Instead of becoming a priest like his father, John has become an ascetic. Like the prophets of the Hebrew Bible, he has come out of the desert to speak God’s word, to “prepare the way of the Lord,” as he says, quoting the prophet Isaiah. In preparation for Jesus’ ministry, he has called out the entire community – not isolated individuals, but everyone – to a change of heart, and to be immersed in water to symbolize their readiness to change their way of life. And let’s be clear about this: in the New Testament, “repent” does not mean feeling sorry for your sins. “Repent” means changing your entire way of life. And the questions? Surely as difficult for us as they were for those ancient Judeans. Does God really want us to change our way of life? Are we willing to do more than go down into the Jordan River? What does it really take to live differently? Hard questions all.

Advent is the time for such questions. Prophets often ask us hard questions. And often their questions inspire terror, not joy. We don’t want to hear the challenge in their questions. We certainly don’t want to undergo a painful process of letting go of what keeps us from hearing God’s words more clearly, and we don’t want to change our way of life. Yet that is our call in Advent. Advent is our time for self-reflection. It is our time to ask ourselves the questions we hear in Scripture today. It is a time for self-examination, for opening ourselves to God and allowing God to begin in us the slow work of transformation.

So what kinds of questions am I suggesting that we ask ourselves this Advent? We profess to be followers of Jesus. Does our commitment to Jesus affect our lives as citizens in any way? In the wake of the recent gun tragedies – dear God, yet another – shouldn’t we be asking ourselves whether we are doing all we can as a nation to prevent such tragedies? Or have we let the NRA buy off our politicians, so that assault weapons are freely available, and background checks virtually non-existent? Is it time to ask ourselves as a nation whether all our citizens, regardless of their income or their employer, have access to decent healthcare – like the citizens of every other industrialized nation in the world? As we beat down the doors of our stores or flood the sites of online vendors in our quest for the perfect Christmas gift, do we give a thought to the poor in this country? Ironically, today is St. Nicholas day. St. Nicholas, the ancestor of our modern Santa Claus, was a fourth-century bishop who was known for secretly putting coins in the shoes of the poor. As the climate change talks progress in Paris, are we thinking at all about creation care? Are we trying to pare down, reuse, and recycle our “stuff?”

Advent also challenges us with questions we might ask as a parish. For example, is our worship prophetic? Do our hymns, prayers, and lections enable us to hear God’s word more clearly? Does our worship provide entertainment or edification? Diversion or direction? Amusement or awareness? Most important, does what we do here on Sunday impact our lives? Does worship lead to transformation?

And what about our personal lives? Are we willing to honestly look at what needs changing in our lives and ask God’s help to make those needed changes? Many of you may be familiar with twelve-step programs. Franciscan Richard Rohr, who has had a long prison ministry, has recently been reflecting on each of the twelve steps. They provide a wonderful introduction to the spiritual life! After admitting their need for God and their obligation to make amends to those whom they have harmed, alcoholics are reminded, in step 10, “We continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.” Do those of us who are sober need to take such a personal inventory? Advent is a time to do that. Remember that Advent is a gift from the church that enables us to prepare more seriously and more intentionally for receiving Christ at Christmas.

After the first performance of “Messiah” in London in 1741, Handel wrote to a friend: “I should be sorry if I only entertained them. I wished to make them better.” Although by 1751 Handel was blind, until his death in 1759, he continued to conduct “Messiah” every year as an annual benefit for a hospital that served widows and orphans of the clergy. “And he shall purify the sons of Levi.” As we engage in self-examination in Advent, as we ask ourselves hard questions, as we ponder where our lives need to change, we can trust that God is at work in us. We can trust that, if we are open to God, God will fulfill God’s promises to us, in the world, in the church, and in ourselves.