After 67 years, this is Dr. Gordon’s last Sermon.

On this second Sunday of Advent, which season of the Christian year consists of the five Sundays leading to Christmas Day, the Gospel and the Epistle forcefully remind us of the meaning of Advent. It literally means ‘Coming’. While Advent speaks to us of Christ’s coming as the promised Messiah of Israel it speaks to us today of the Lordship of Christ as the coming Revealer of His kingdom as the Lord of all future time.

The exhortation to watchfulness in the lessons from the gospel for today is an exhortation not to take God’s grace for granted. We are not to think that the fulfilment of God’s purpose is an automatic process and that some how or other we are on the winners’ side because of who and what the church or we are. The kingdom will come as a thief in the night precisely because it is God’s free and unmerited gift. And that day will bring many surprises.

Until we appreciate this background to the account of John the Baptist’s preaching and his subsequent baptism of Jesus in the Jordan river, we will find it difficult to understand John’s preaching as ‘good news’. Who of us would regard what he has to say as decisively helpful in understanding our relationship to God. Who of us are helped by the knowledge that the truth of our life before God and each other in the final analysis depends upon the depth and truth of our repentance. John proclaimed to the people who came to hear him that they should repent in the light of the immanent appearance of God’s righteous judgement; the coming of God’s kingdom.

If we are tempted to think that John’s preaching of the coming judgement was directed at those who may be thought to be concerned only with outward works of righteousness rather than inward motivation of the heart,(the traditional examples being the Scribes and the Pharisees for whom John did indeed reserve some very special criticism in the other accounts of his preaching in the gospels: Mat 3:7  But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?) This view only intensifies the problem of John’s preaching for us. For who can be sure of the motives of any of our actions done or left undone? We know that the motives of our actions are at best mixed and at worst an expression of our preoccupation with our own self-interest. This was an intense problem for Martin Luther, alone with God in his monastery cell. How do I know that I have repented enough to receive the grace promised in the Eucharist.

He kept his vow to, “Help me, Saint Anne. I will become a monk.” only 15 days later July 17th, 1505. There were seven monasteries in Erfurt. He joined the most rigorous one. It was the Augustinian order of friars. He was 21 years old, and he had a singular focus on saving his soul.

    “If I could believe that God was not angry with me, I would stand on my head for joy. When I was a monk, I wearied myself greatly for almost 15 years with daily sacrifice, torturing myself with fasting’s and vigils and prayers and rigorous works, like self-freezing, not having any blankets, and I almost froze myself to death, earnestly thinking to acquire righteousness by my works.”

His problem is shown by Freud and others to be a universal problem of human consciousness. Freud called the boiling cauldron of our unconsciousness the Id and we spend our life attempting to put a lid on the id of our unconscious mind. This causes all sorts of neurosis by which we attempt to deceive ourselves about the reality of our thoughts about ourselves and others. Luther thought he could solve this problem by some drastic measures, such as by freezing himself in the snow or by  flagellation, beating himself with a whip. All to no avail for him he remained his miserable self.

To transfer the source of repentance from outward actions to inward motives only intensifies the problems created in attempting to understand John’s preaching of repentance as “good news”. His proclamation of repentance for the forgiveness of sins in the light of the coming judgement is extremely “bad news’ for all who hear his words. For none can come and stand before the judgement seat of God confident that the truth of their life can be understood as grounded in our capacity to repent. We all know what the prophet Jeremiah knew and Sigmund Freud confirmed for us, that the human:

(Jer 17:9) “the heart is deceitful above all things; and desperately corrupt– who can understand it?”

But when we reach this rather melancholy conclusion concerning the medium and the message of John the Baptist, we must remember that we have left out of consideration the one vital factor which enables John’s preaching of repentance to be heard as exceedingly ‘good news’ and not ‘bad news’ at all in this time of Advent.

This factor is the presence in the crowd who came to hear John preach of the one-man Jesus of Nazareth. With the rest of the people, He heard John’s exhortations in view the coming judgement; with them he had himself baptised in the Jordan; with them he received a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.

The good news in the Baptists proclamation and action is this unheard-of action of Jesus, the Holy Son of God who though He knew no sin, by His action in accepting at the hand of John the Baptist a Baptism for the forgiveness of sins, He begins his public ministry by declaring His solidarity with sinners. No one came to the Jordan that day to hear John’s call for repentance more laden with sin and guilt than He, no one needier before God than he. He who is God’s Son. He who is different from all other people, in the inexplicable freedom of His grace negated the distance between Himself and all other people by becoming in His Baptism wholly one with us: not in our holiness in our alienation and estrangement from God and each other. He does this by receiving from John the Baptist a Baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sin.

In St Matthew’s gospel it is precisely this anomaly, this scandal, of which John the Baptist becomes acutely aware. He says to Jesus that that it is he, John, who needs to be baptised by him, Jesus, rather than the other way around. But against John’s protest at the contradiction involved in Jesus “baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins” Jesus insists upon John baptizing Him with this baptism “a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins”. Because Jesus insists by receiving such a baptism, “We fulfil all righteousness.” Here we must understand that Jesus fulfils “all righteousness”, by placing himself in the wrong. He does what is right by placing himself in the wrong before God, for the sake of all those whom He now represents who stand in need of repentance, for all sinners, for all of us.

So, when Jesus is baptised by John with a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sin in the light of the coming judgement of God it is not of His own sin that he repents and confesses. It is the people’s burden of guilt with which He identifies Himself as He goes down into the water of Baptism: as He receives John’s Baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.

Precisely because He is the One who in this strange way identifies Himself with us, with our human alienated condition He is also the One, the only One who embraces the coming judgement of God; since He now embarks upon a public ministry through which He more and more becomes entangled in the godfosakenness of our human lot. Until at the end of His life He fulfils His strange journey into the far country of our alienation from God by crying out after his declaration of godforsakenness, τετέλεσται “tetalestai” “It is finished”. The glory of God, of which at Christmas we hear the angels sing, heralding Jesus’ birth, this glory is the glory of the humility of God. A God who does not count it too small a thing to declare His unity and solidarity with sinners. God’s glory is revealed here, as is made plain in the holy gospel of St John and the 17th chapter, as Jesus treads the ever-descending path of humiliation to the cross. It is in the cross that the unity of will and purpose of the Father the Son and the Holy Spirit is revealed: And it consists in this: the mysterious delivering up of the Son by the Father together with the giving up of the Father by the Son for the sake of the threatened and lost human creature.

In this way also we come to see how appropriate it is that we understand the call to repentance by John the Baptist in the light of the coming judgement of God to be wholly good news. In the light of Jesus action in submitting to this Baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins John becomes a harbinger, a witness, to the advent of the salvation of our God. A true messenger of the light that has dawned and shines upon us all. That light which St John the Evangelist tells us, in the first chapter of his gospel, which, “enlightens every person who comes into the world.” For in Christ our humanity has been restored to its wholeness in relationship to God and our fellow human beings and it is this restored humanity of Christ which is offered to us as the truth of our life as through the waters of our own Baptism as we are incorporated into membership of the very Body of Christ, His church, of which He is the heavenly Head.

As in the beginning God brought forth a cosmos out of the primeval chaos by means of His Word and Spirit, whom St Irenaeus calls the two hands of God: as in the beginning God triumphed over all that was opposed to the creature’s existence and brought life out of darkness and disorder, safeguarded the life of the creature from the encroachment of chaos, so here in the recreation of the creature God’s act of reconciliation is wrought by His Word and Spirit out of the water of Jesus baptism.

His descent into the waters of baptism signal Jesus’ descent into the watery chaos from which God called forth the cosmos. Here this chaos is identified. In Jesus condescension it is seen to reside in humankind’s alienation from God. In his baptism Jesus makes himself one with our rebellion by receiving at the hand of John a baptism of repentance: he who knew no sin, who is ever one with the Father, makes himself vulnerable for the sake of the creature, identifies himself with its existence. Threatened as it is by the impending abyss of nothingness to which it has committed itself in its grasping after the futile possibility of being its own saviour and helper: its rejection of grace.

Instead of our human lives crumbling away into meaninglessness of what Shakespeare calls our “dusty death.” Jesus gives to our human life it’s created meaning and purpose. As the risen and ascended One, the Victor of Gethsemane and Golgotha, He gives us nothing less than Himself and all that is His by means of His Word and sacraments: He promises Himself to us; He gives us back our true human being, restored in reconciled fellowship with God and each other.

Dr.Gordon Watson.

Sermon for 4 Advent 2023 
Peace Sunday
St Peter’s Lutheran Church, Port Macquarie

John 16:25-33

Peace is the traditional theme of the final Sunday in Advent. It is also a major theme of the Christmas season. I looked back over sermons from previous years for this Sunday and found that I often started by noting that there seemed to be a short supply of peace in the world. Last year in was the war in the Ukraine, the year before that Myanmar was the focus of attention. And before that in the war with ISIS in Syria and Iraq, and before that it was the war in Afghanistan. This year, the focus of the world’s attention is on the war between Israel and Hamas in Gaza. In fact, for the past one hundred years there has been a significant and horrendous conflict going on somewhere in the world. And of course, prior to that one hundred year period was the small matter of the first world war, billed at the time as the ‘war to end all wars.’ I think you see the pattern.

Yet every Christmas we wish one another peace. We sing about peace on earth, just like the angels did to the shepherds. And we pray for peace. It seems that one of the few things that has changed over the past 100 Christmases is that we now hear a lot more detail about the human suffering brought about by war and we hear about it much more quickly and in much more graphic detail. So how on earth do we sing about peace on earth and goodwill to all people when there is always at least one major, tragic war going on in the world? And why do we even bother? Perhaps the angels were simply naïve when they sang their song. Perhaps Jesus was simply being overly optimistic when he spoke of peace. Or perhaps, we are missing something.

Today’s gospel text is a good place to start. It finishes with Jesus telling his disciples that they will have peace. In the ancient Near East the wish for peace was a common greeting and farewell. In Hebrew and Aramaic, spoken by Jesus and his disciples, ‘Shalom’ was ‘hello’ and also ‘goodbye’. Only the intonation was different. And sometimes goodbye was the double ‘Shalom, Shalom!’  The Arabic greeting ‘salaam’ also means peace and comes from the same original core word as Shalom. So perhaps Jesus was simply wishing his disciples ‘goodbye’ in the familiar language of the day and not actually promising them an elusive peace.

To put Jesus’ wish for peace for his disciples into context, we need to look at the conversation he was having with them when he said these words.

In today’s text Jesus is coming to the end of his long Last Supper discourse to his disciples. He has just a few more words to say to his closest companions, then he will pray for them (John 17). And then he will be arrested. Much of what he has been saying to this point perplexed his disciples. At the end of chapter 13 Peter interrupts him to ask why he cannot follow where Jesus is going (13:37). This in chapter 14 both Thomas and Philip interrupt him. Thomas asks how they can know the way to where Jesus is going when they do not even know where he is going (14:5), and then Philip asks Jesus to simply show them the Father (14:8). And then Judas (not Iscariot) interrupts to ask how it is that Jesus will reveal himself to those who follow him, but not to the world (14:22). And then earlier in chapter 16 Jesus gave them the riddle, ‘A little while, and you will no longer see me, and again a little while, and you will see me’ (v. 16) which left them all puzzling over what he meant.

But now Jesus says to them that he will no longer speak to them in figures of speech, but will now speak plainly.

Then he tells his disciples: ‘On that day you will ask in my name. I do not say that I will ask the Father on your behalf; for the Father himself loves  you, because you have loved me and have believed that I came from God. I came from the Father and have come into the world. Again, I am leaving the world and am going to the Father’

And to this his disciples respond: ‘Now at last you are speaking plainly and not in figures of speech!’ (v. 29).

Now I do not know about you, but these last words of Jesus seem no less perplexing than the things he has been telling them which they found so difficult to understand. And yet their response is one of clear relief. ‘Thank goodness you are now speaking to us plainly!’  And not only that, but these words prompt them to confess that they now believe Jesus knows all things, does not need to have anyone question him, and has truly come from God (v. 30). And this is perhaps a reference to the fact that they have been peppering Jesus with questions the entire evening as he sought to explain to them what was about to occur.

Now it is the readers’ turn to scratch our heads, wondering just what is was that Jesus said in these few short sentences that is not only now so clear to the disciples, but which provokes such a response of faith.

What we are missing is the first century Jewish context. Jesus has been talking much about the Father and his relationship to the Father in John’s gospel. Some of his words have been such explicit claims to be God that the Jewish authorities took up stones and tried to kill Jesus. But now, after twice in this extended Last Supper discourse telling his disciples to ask anything of the Father in his name and they will receive it (14:13f; 16:24), Jesus comes back to them saying that when they ask in his name he will not ask the Father on their behalf. This is because there is no need for him to do so.

What Jesus has been saying to his disciples from the beginning of his time with them now suddenly becomes clear to the disciples. Jesus does not need to ask the Father on their behalf because he and the Father are in fact one. When they have loved Jesus, they have loved the Father. When Jesus goes on to say, once again, that he came into the world from the Father and is now leaving the world to return to the Father, echoing the language that John began his gospel with, the penny finally drops for the disciples. Jesus is from Father. He is one with Father. And is now leaving the world to be fully one with the Father again. Jesus is not just a great prophet. He is not simply the Messiah. He is God himself. Suddenly the eyes of the disciples are opened and what Jesus says is plain to them. This is what prompts their confession of faith in Jesus.

And Jesus responds to them not with great praise for finally getting it, but with these sardonic words: ‘Do you now believe?’ In other words, at this very last hour, at the end of my final words of teaching for you, you at last get it!

Well, and good. Better late than never. But now that the disciples finally clearly understand who Jesus is, he has some hard news for them.

‘The hour is coming,’ he says, ‘and is indeed now upon us when you will be scattered, each to his own home, and you will all abandon me, leaving me alone. But as you have now understood, I will not be alone because the Father is with me’ (v. 32).

The disciples now understand, but there is no time to explore what this means. There is no time to rejoice in their now firmly cemented faith. Jesus needs to tell them that very difficult times are coming and coming very soon. The disciples are about to flee into hiding.

Just when they finally fully understand just who Jesus is, their time with him is at an end. And things are going to become very difficult for them. And it is precisely here that Jesus promises them peace. In fact, he tells them that he has told them these things, about he and Father being one. About him leaving the world to return to the Father, about the difficult times about to come – in order that they might have peace.

It does strike us at first as a strange kind of peace. To be told your friend, your teacher, your Lord, is going to leave you. To be told that persecution is coming and you will all go into hiding – these are not the kind of words we would normally associate with bringing peace. But that is exactly what Jesus says. He doesn’t sugar-coat anything, he doesn’t beat around the bush. He tells them bluntly that things are going to change, and that trials are coming. But he tells them this to give them peace. And this peace is possible because of who Jesus is. The peace Jesus promises is possible because Jesus is returning to the Father where he himself will hear their prayers. This peace is possible because, despite the persecution they are about to face, Jesus assures them: ‘I have conquered the world.’ (v. 35).

Notice the past tense. Jesus is not about to conquer the world. He is not hoping to conquer the world. He is not in the process of developing a plan to conquer the world. Jesus has already conquered the world. By taking on human flesh and living among us. Jesus has already redeemed and ‘conquered’ the world. His death and resurrection are yet to play out, but the victory has already been won.

Here Jesus uses military imagery here. A great peace comes after a great victory. Jesus has won a great peace through a great victory. But it is a victory that no one saw coming, and a peace like no one had envisaged.

And this is not the first time Jesus promised his disciples peace during his last evening with them. In chapter 14:27 we read that Jesus told his disciples ‘Peace I lave with you; my peace I give to you.’ This was his promise to the disciples as he explained he was going to be with the Father. And notice it is not just any kind of peace he promised by ‘my peace’, the peace of Jesus. That is the peace Jesus is now reminding his disciples of at the end of his talk with them at the last supper. This is the final thought that he wants them to take with them into the difficult times to come.

We continue to pray and work for peace on earth, and not only at Christmas. We do this because Jesus has made peace with all people through the cross. We do this because through his resurrection Jesus has defeated death and so offers us a peace that goes far beyond a simple earthly cessation of hostilities. Even when physical peace between nations and peoples seems in short supply, we know that have a peace with God through Christ that shines brightly in our lives and in our world regardless of the troubles that rage around us.

At Christmas time, regardless of what turmoil we might be experiencing in our lives, or whatever troubles are unfolding in the world around us, we have real peace, the peace of Christ that rises above all else, a peace that transforms us and fills us with joy and hope.

And now in the words of the Apostle Paul which we heard in our epistle reading this morning, ‘May the peace of God was transcends all human understanding guard you in heart and mind, now and always.’ Amen.

Pastor Mark Worthing

The Text: John 1:6-8, 19-28

 A few years ago, China landed a rocket on the moon and obtained some samples from the moon’s surface. We humans are fascinated by moon travel and expeditions to other planets.

Sometimes, when we see a full moon rising in the early evening, it appears so big and bright that we can see so much detail on it.

In some ways, John the Baptist is like the moon. He came rising onto the scene out of nowhere – from the wilderness – and told the people that he is not the light but was pointing the people to the light: He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. And that’s what the moon does. The moon does not produce its own light but it merely reflects the light of the sun. And what’s interesting is that the sun is nowhere to be seen – it’s at the opposite end of the world, and yet it shines bright enough to bring light to the deepest darkness.

In the same way, we Christians have been called to reflect the light of Christ. Jesus says – “You are the light of the world. Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” So just as John was a witness to the light, we are to be a witness to the light. The light of Christ. And we do that by reflecting the light of Christ in all that we do. Because people look at us and they don’t just judge us by the things we do or say but they judge God as well.

As we look to see how we are reflecting the light of God it is often helpful to look in the mirror to see what others are seeing. Quite often we don’t realise what we are reflecting. We might think we are looking okay – until we look in the mirror and see our shirt button isn’t done up or we have some breakfast remains on our face. We might think we are leading great examples of Christian living; but it’s not important what we think, but what others see in us.

Luther’s explanation to the 10 commandments in his Small Catechism, helps us reflect on how we break each of the commandments in 2 ways – known as acts of commission and acts of omission. We break the commandments not just by what we do – acts of commission – but by what we don’t do – acts of omission.

Usually we’re pretty good at refraining from doing the wrong thing – acts of commission, such as in the 5th Commandment: “You shall not kill. What does this mean? We are to fear and love God so that we do not hurt our neighbour in any way.”  Yep, I can check that one off.

But Luther continues – “BUT, I am to help him in all his physical needs.” That’s the part I’m not always so good at. “Look, I’m a little busy at the moment – can’t somebody else help you?” Or the seventh commandment: “You shall not steal – we are to fear and love God so that we do not take our neighbour’s money or property.” Check. No worries with that one.

“BUT – we are to help him improve and protect his property and means of making a living.”

“Sorry but I’ve got my own business to worry about – I have to make enough to pay my mortgage – my credit card – and save up for my retirement. Can’t my neighbour get his act into gear? I’ve worked hard to get where I am – why can’t he do the same?”

 Sometimes it’s not the light of what we are doing that is reflecting on people around us – but what we are NOT doing that people are taking notice of. As the old saying goes – “all it takes for evil to succeed is for good people to do nothing.” Sometimes it’s the acts of omission that do the most harm. And so it can be a real struggle reflecting the light of Christ because of the things that we don’t do to help our neighbour.  

And there are also times when we can fall into the danger of not reflecting the light of Christ because we are trying too hard to reflect our own light. A sort of, “Look at me – look at all the good things I’m doing.” And that’s where John had to try hard to keep reminding people that he is NOT the light. He said – I’m not even Elijah or one of the prophets. I’m just one who is pointing you to the true light of Christ.

St Paul shares with us how we CAN reflect God’s light not by doing good works in order for the world to be impressed with our service. No, Paul says – Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. What a freeing thing that is when we forget about trying to impress others by our good works and just rejoice, pray and give thanks for all the good things God has done for us..

It’s so easy to rejoice, pray and give thanks when we realise how much God has done for us in Christ. But it’s just as easy to reflect the opposite, to grumble about everything instead of rejoicing. Like the Israelites who grumbled about their conditions rather than rejoicing that God had freed them from slavery in Egypt, many of us complained about the restrictions that were imposed upon us during the Covid-19 pandemic. Instead of rejoicing that God had saved many lives through the actions of the medical profession, and some of the restrictions put in place by the government of the time, we grumbled that we had to wear masks in church and use individual cups for holy communion. It’s so easy to forget to rejoice and give thanks and pray for our government and our medical profession, even though they’re not perfect, like all of us.  That’s when we need to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, “What image are we reflecting to the world? What light are we shining? Are we shining our own light or Christ’s?”

 So often we believe it is up to us to take the ‘fight’ to the world. We think that it is up to us to defend the rights of God and the church. And often what happens is that we replace God’s light with our own. And that’s what John was avoiding when he said: “I’m not the Christ, I’m not Elijah – I’m not one of the prophets. In fact I’m not even worthy enough to untie the sandals of the one I’m pointing you to.”

Yes, we all want to defend God – we all want to defend the church – we want to defend the name of Christ in an increasingly Godless world. But the best way we can do that is by rejoicing in the midst of it all – giving thanks in the midst of it all – and praying for all. And Paul says – pray without ceasing – because the challenges on the church and on God’s name are without ceasing. And in doing that we will be reflecting the light of Christ even if sometimes we don’t always live perfect lives. And even when that happens, we are assured by the Word of God, that, “the God of peace himself will sanctify you entirely; and your spirit and soul and body will be kept sound and blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.” The one who calls us is faithful, and he will do this. Amen.

St Peter’s Lutheran Church, Port Macquarie, NSW

John 15:9-17  –  

The theme for the second Sunday in Advent is love, and there is no better text in John’s Gospel concerning love than today’s reading.

Jesus begins by teaching his disciples about the chain reactions that love produces, and places his disciples (and us) squarely in this chain. First, God the Father loves God the Son. It is no surprise that the basis and foundation of all genuine love is trinitarian, and is based on the nature of God. Now, at first this might look simply like self-love, which used to be viewed as a negative trait (narcissism in its extreme form) but today is much lauded and promoted. But the love God the Father has for God the Son is far more than this. The nature of the trinity reminds us that God is not only one, but also three. And it is from this later perspective of the three-ness of God that we need to understand this passage.  The dynamic, living nature of the trinity includes the flow of love from the Father to the Son. It is the love of the other within the One.

Jesus explains to his disciples that this is where it all begins: the great chain of love. ‘Because the Father has loved me, so I have loved you. (v. 9). Because the Son is loved by the Father, the Son passes on his love to those who remain in him, that is, those who put their trust in him.  So we have moved now from the love of the Father for the son, to the love of the Son for us. And the impact on us? Quite simply, this love is in turn passed on further. Jesus says to his disciples: ‘This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.’ (v. 12)

You perhaps may remember a movie called ‘Pay it Forward’ from 2000. In it a 12 year old boy, inspired by a challenge from a school social studies assignment, decided to do a good deed for three different people and asks each of them ‘pay it forward’ to three other people. In essence it is a kindness pyramid scheme. The chain reaction of his actions has significant and unexpected consequences. Imagine the love of Jesus from the Father passed on to his disciples with the instruction to pass in on. Now imagine running this deep version of ‘pay it forward’ for the past two thousand years and counting. We can begin to understand something of the scope of what Jesus has called us to do in loving one another.

But it might seem that loving one another as Christ has loved us doesn’t seem to be having much impact at the moment. We have seen all too often in all too many places in recent times how contagious fear and hatred can be. One group or people or nation keep track of all the wrongs done to them by another group, which in turn keeps a similar list. Every unkind, unjust and even evil action draws like responses. And the hatred just seems to continue to spread and be passed on from one person to the next and from one generation to the next. In the midst of the despair caused by this situation we can all too easily forget that love also is contagious. Wars and feuds are often ended by someone’s act of love or self-sacrifice. How often have we seen the resolution of some painful conflict in our family, workplace or congregation simply dissolve because someone took the first step and said ‘sorry.’ Or perhaps someone simply offered help or a kind word in time of need.

I once inherited a feud with a neighbour from the previous pastor. According to long established tradition the neighbour would hold loud late night parties on Friday night and toss their empty beer bottles over the fence into the manse yard. The pastor would then get up very early on Saturday, throw all the bottles back, and then mow the lawn with a very loud mower, whether in needed mowing or not.  When this behaviour happened two weeks in a row I was informed of the feud I had inherited. This information was not included in the call information! I wondered how to respond and took he question to church council. The head of the property committee offered to bring over a particularly loud mower. He also pointed out that some chain sawing needed to be done. We could up the ante. I liked the way he thought. Then our head elder, one the oldest members in the congregation, said very thoughtfully. ‘Well, that hasn’t worked for the past seven years. Perhaps you could pick a basket of peaches from the tree by the fence and leave in on their doorstep.’

That was a radical thought. It was worth a try. So I put aside the kind offer of a chainsaw and obnoxious lawnmower and went to work picking. I delivered a basket of choice peaches on the neighbours’ doorstep. I didn’t leave a note. The tree was visible from their house and was the only one in the neighbourhood. That night there was a knock on our front door.

A large, bearded man with arms and neck covered in tattoos stood at the door. ‘Did you leave a box of peaches in front of our door?’ he asked testily.

‘Yes,’ I admitted.

‘I thought so,’ he said, turned and walked away.

The next night I came home from work and found our rubbish bins had been brought in. I knocked on my neighbour’s door. ‘Did you bring my rubbish bins in?’ I asked.

‘Yeah. That was me,’ he said. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but it seemed easy enough to do as I was bringing mine in anyway.’ And that was it, the feud was over. No more beer bottles in the back yard, the music went quiet at 11 p.m. and no more early morning lawn mowing and chainsaw work. If I had followed by basis instincts my successor would probably still be having this feud. Thankfully one of my elders not only knew the words of scripture commanding us to love one another, and even to love our ‘enemies’, but understood the importance of applying them.

Jesus tells us that passing on the love he received from the Father and that he has shown to us is not simply a good idea. It is a command. ‘This is my commandment,’ he says, ‘that just as I have loved you, you will in turn show love to each other.’ And so, despite many glitches, false starts and missed opportunities, the Christian community is characterised by our love for each other, our love for others. It is in the end not possible to feel and understand, even imperfectly, the love that Jesus has shown for us, and not respond by passing on the love we have received. That is how the contagion of love works. It the best response we have to the fear and hatred that infects our world.

Love changes us. It transforms us. This is the case even in human relationships. My wife loves me. No one can work out the reason for it. Her mother certainly never understood it. I, too, remain baffled by it. But it has changed me. I am a slightly less cranky, less impatient, and less anti-social character largely because of her love. Take a moment to think of someone in your life, either in the past or in the present, whose love, care and acceptance of you has positively impacted your life. Have you thought of someone?

Have you thought of the impact they have had upon you? Now consider Jeus love for you and the impact his love has had and continues to have on your life. The impact of Jesus love for us occurs in so many ways we may miss many of them. But the impact of the love of God in Christ for us is on a scale of magnitude far above any human love.

And what is the nature and extent of this love? Jesus explains that to his disciples in today’s text. ‘No one,’ he tells them, ‘has greater love than this, to lay down his life for his friends.’ Then, after what I imagine was a very significant pause to let this soak in, he adds the kicker. ‘You are my friends.’

Jesus is willing to die for his disciples. He is willing to die for us. He is willing to die for all people. When he spoke these words to his disciples he knew he would be arrested later that night and put through a show trial and torture before being crucified. These words spoken on Thursday night are going to come back to the disciples on Friday. But it will take until Sunday and the empty tomb for them to begin to understand the full depth of their meaning.  Jesus ends the hostilities, the feud, the breach between God and human beings by sacrificing himself for us – his friends. That is what love ultimately is. That is the love that Jesus shows to us. The love us Christ transforms us and transforms our world. And that is the love that Jesus calls those of us transformed by his great act of love to pass on to others.
Amen.

Pastor Mark Worthing.

Text Mark 1:1-8

One of the challenges during Advent and Christmas is hearing the familiar story we all know so well.  Not that there’s anything wrong with the story, but sometimes we sort of switch off – we’ve heard it all before – we want to hear something new. We all know the story. We’ve all seen the Christmas pageants and know the script.  We’ve seen the Nativity scenes with Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus in a manger, the cow, donkey, the sheep and shepherds. It’s become almost too familiar.  And what is the old saying: ‘Familiarity breeds contempt’”?

The season of Advent prepares the way to Christmas through the wilderness. Advent makes a straight path for Jesus – the path which is usually hindered by the busyness of shopping and food preparation and the organising of holidays. Every year has different challenges hindering our preparations for Christmas.  During this Advent season let this be a time of reflection and contemplation as we hear the good news of Jesus coming to us in the flesh. Let the gospel sink more deeply into our lives, let the story of Jesus’ birth speak to us differently this year. The story of Jesus may be familiar – it may be the same – but our lives are not the same so let us hear the story with eager ears.

But before we do, let us remember haw very different it was during COVID. For many, it was not the usual joyous march toward Christmas.  Everything might have been planned – parents were thinking about roles for their children – the play was organised and being rehearsed, the carols and readings were all worked out. But how to fit the usual crowds into one per 4 square metres and 1.5 metres apart? And how to account for any visitors that may turn up? It was anything but the straight path to Christmas that John the Baptist proclaimed-  for us there were many road blocks and potholes to be faced along the way.

During COVID all people were anxious and waiting in the wilderness of lockdowns. For many, Advent was a wilderness experience in lockdown. For many there was no clear path forward. It was a time of uncertainty, fear and grief. Christmas may have been the same familiar story but our lives were not. But while the harshness of wilderness may have confronted us during those times of church closure, the ageless truth remained the same and it is what got us through. When the angel announced to Mary and Joseph that Mary would give birth he said that this child would be called Immanuel – which means God is with us. And that kept us going, knowing that in the wilderness we were not alone.

The season of Advent reminds us that no matter where we are or what experiences we are going through that God is with us in Jesus. The wilderness is an uncomfortable place if we are alone. Peter was writing to a Christian community who were in the wilderness. They too needed reminding that the Christmas story was a story of hope in times of wilderness. The wilderness can seem like an eternity when you are alone but Peter reminds us that with God a day is like a thousand years and a thousand years is like a day.

Peter was writing to a Christian community experiencing persecution at the hands of the ruling empire. They were looking for Jesus’ return and immediate relief from their suffering.  But God does not always act in our timeline.  A thousand years is like a day, and a day is like a thousand years to God.  And when we are suffering, the lonely nights can seem like an eternity in the wilderness but, as the Psalmist writes: ‘Weeping may last for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.’

During Advent we are given a word of hope for the future while our present seems like wilderness. The prophet John the Baptist proclaimed in the wilderness a familiar message to a people who were in the wilderness themselves. Israel has been invaded by the Roman Empire and they had no king.  John pointed away from himself and toward someone greater to come. John pointed to a hopeful future by promising one who would come baptizing, not with mere water but with the eternal Holy Spirit. And we are to live out our hope by looking away from ourselves and our wilderness to one more powerful than us.

Our Advent message is that we are called to be a people that await the coming of the Lord in all circumstances.  We are always in waiting—through victory and defeat, triumph and loss. And as the church, we are to proclaim peace on earth, goodwill towards all, and joy to the world – all the messages of Christmas.

And that’s what Peter said also: “While you are waiting for these things, strive to be found by him at peace, without spot or blemish; and regard the patience of our Lord as salvation”. And it’s the patience of the Lord that creates the seeming slowness in times of wilderness – his patience of not wanting anyone to be lost forever.

So just as we are pointed by John to Christ, we point the world to the Christ, the one who is more powerful, more patient, and more loving. We point to the Christ, the one who is to come.

This Advent, many of us feel like we are still in the wilderness. But let us remember that all things here on earth are temporary. Let our lives be shaped by our hope in the truth that God is coming – that God has come in Jesus who is with us always. Amen.

Sermon for 1 Advent, 2023
St Peter’s Lutheran Church, Port Macquarie, NSW

John 14:1-14  –  ‘Many Questions – One Answer’

Today is the first Sunday in the Church Year. It is a beginning. A time of preparation. Specifically, it is a time that the church prepares for the coming of Christ. The theme, of course, is preparation for his coming again in glory. But with Christmas nearing, our preparations for celebrating his first coming have become very much a part of our Advent celebrations.

This Advent, we are beginning a year-long journey through John’s Gospel. While many of the Sundays this coming year will follow the sequence of texts in John’s Gospel, we are beginning the journey with four texts from John that highlight the themes of the four weeks of Advent: Hope, love, joy, peace.

Today’s reading from John’s Gospel is about hope. The word hope is not mentioned, but you look carefully at the text, you will notice that hope runs throughout the text. There is the hope that Jeus is preparing a place for us, the hope (and certain expectation) that we will be with him forever. And there is the hope that in Jesus we have seen the Father and know the father. There is the hope that we are not lost but know the way home, and that Way is Jesus. There is great hope in Jesus’ words ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life.’ Todays Gospel text is filled with hope, and that hope is centred upon Jesus Christ.

Some decades ago, when I was a young lecturer in theology, I had a lay student named Elizabeth who signed up to audit many of my classes. She would have been about 70 at that time. Elizabeth had lived a deeply troubled childhood, from which she never recovered. You see, Elizabeth, was a German Jew, and was a teenager during the holocaust, and survived two years in Buchenwald and other camps.

It is hard for us to imagine today the insane hatred of Jews that pervaded the world at that time. In Germany, and also elsewhere, people would avoid Jewish businesses.  Beginning with Kristallnacht they even began to attack Jewish owned businesses. People marched in the streets in protest against Jews, they deliberated organized their marches to run through Jewish neighbourhoods to effect maximin intimidation. They blocked ports when ships carrying Jewish refugees tried to land. This happened most famously in the US with one ship with over 1,000 Jewish refugees in 1939 blocked at every port until it was forced to return to Germany. People blamed the Jews, collectively, and individually, for everything that had ever gone wrong in the world. And in Germany school children were even taken out of school to participate in marches against the Jews to show that all generations stood against them. I know, it is hard to imagine this all happening. It was so long ago. But it really happened. And of course, when people are so hated and dehumanized, it becomes acceptable, justifiable, to even kill them. And while this was happening in the Middle East and is many countries, no where was it carried out so systematically than in Germany. And that is where Elizabeth lived. She survived, but never recovered. Never married, never had children of her own, never was able to hold down a full-time job. But she took solace in her faith, her faith in Jesus. For Elizabeth of not only Jewish, but a Christian, a Lutheran Christian. Not that that made any difference to those determined to hate her just for being a Jew.

As a result of her trauma, Elizabeth had some distinct quirks. One of theme was that whenever a question was asked in class (or in a Bible study or discussion), even a rhetorical question, Elizabeth would also jump in with the answer. And that answer was always Jesus. I had to learn to be careful in my lectures not to ask rhetorical questions. But the thing I remember most from the classes Elizabeth took with me is how often the simple answer ‘Jesus’ made sense.

When I consider today’s text, I remember Elizabeth. In today’s text both Thomas and Philip ask a question. They are very different questions. But if you look closely, you will see that the answer is the same.

First, Thomas’ question ….

Thomas is the disciple most likely to ask the obvious question on everyone’s mind but which no one else is willing to ask. In this case Jesus has promised that he will go an prepare a place for the disciples and all those who follow him. This is good news. Then Jesus adds rather matter-of-factly that ‘you know the way to the place where I am going (v. 4). Well, this is all a bit much for Thomas, because he is still trying to work out just where Jesus is going, and now Jesus seems to simply assume that they all know the way. So he points out the obvious: ‘Lord, we do not know where you are going so how can we possibly know the way?’ (v. 5). Thomas’ question prompts the words of Jesus that have become among some of the best known of the New Testament: ‘I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’ (v. 6).

So now it begins to come together. Jesus is going to the Father, that is to say, to be with the Father in the heavenly kingdom.  And the reason Jesus assumes the disciples know the way to the Father is because Jesus himself is the Way.

So the answer to Thomas’ question, quite simply, is Jesus!

But now Philip jumps in with another question. And this one seems to be a bit off topic. Philip, seemingly satisfied about where Jesus is going and how to get there, is taken by the reference to the Father. ‘Lord’ he says, ‘if you could simply show us the Father, we will be happy.’ (v. 8).

At this Jesus becomes a bit impatient. ‘Really, Philip?’ he asks. After all this time together and after all my teaching your still do not know who I am? If you have seen me then you have seen the Father. I am in the Father and the Father is in me. (v. 9). As I have said before, ‘I and the Father are one) (John 10:30). So how can you now ask ‘Show us the Father?’

So the answer to Philip’s question, ‘Could you please show us the Father?’ is also simply Jesus. Jesus is the way and Jesus is also the destination (the Father). The hope of the disciples, the answers to all their questions, is simply Jesus.

Whatever our trouble. Whatever our worry. Whatever our great question, Jesus is the answer. It is always all about Jesus.

And what is Jesus all about? Well, here’s an interesting tie in to our first Sunday in Advent, when our focus is not only on our hope in Christ, but on our preparation for Christ’s coming again. Just what is it that Jesus is focused on as we await and prepare for his coming? The surprising answer is that he is focused on us. As we now are prepare for his coming, we read in today’s gospel that Jesus is at this very moment preparing for our joining with him in the heavenly kingdom. He is busy preparing a place for us, for each one of us. Now that is a  truly amazing and surprising thought. One that fills us with hope, to know that the one for whose coming we prepare is busy preparing for us.

So let us begin this new church year with that image in mind; Of Christ, the Way to the Father, God himself in flesh, ascended to heaven and preparing a place for us. Amen.
Pastor Mark Worthing.