8th December, Advent 2: Malachi 3:1-4, Phhilippians 1:3-11 and Luke 3:1-6
‘Location, Location, Location’.
Kirsty Allsopp and Phil Spencer are casting for the 25th anniversary series of Channel 4’s primetime property show.
You know the format: a couple wants to move to a particular area - with a list of requirements (sometimes quite niche) plus a budget (often unrealistic). It’s usually a circle that’s impossible to square without some compromise.
Location matters to human beings: proximity to friends, family or work; the places we come from or those where we make our home; the kind of lives we live or dreams we have; needs versus ideals, and compromises along the way.
Location also carries with it ideas of convenience or value; qualities or status; the postcodes regarded as premium and those which raise an eyebrow.
Today’s readings are all about location, location, location.
Luke’s words convey a very specific sense of place: in a few lines he gives us a sense of the geopolitical and religious landscape of his day; he locates power in people, roles and places,
Emperors, governors, rulers and high-priests are all named. But the word of God isn’t being heard in those places of status, influence, wealth or control.
The hearing of God’s word is located elsewhere: in the remoteness of wilderness, on the margins rather than at the centre.
It’s quite the juxtaposition: as if Phil and Kirsty had offered the woman looking for a modern city centre flat a remote ancient cottage.
Wildernesses can be risky places - no safety nets or creature comforts. It’s a place where illusions are shattered, vulnerabilities exposed and priorities re-ordered.
Perhaps the wilderness also brings a level of release or relief: away from competing demands we can perceive things more clearly; we retreat from pressures in order to return refreshed, renewed.
In today’s passage, it's in the wilderness that the word of God comes. In the messy and sometimes harsh realities of the world as it is, a message of hope and healing is heard.
The wilderness is a place of watching and waiting upon God, yes. It is also a place where God calls us to a new place, to be relocated.
It’s John’s role to locate us. To draw us into an inward movement. His words about repentance - metanoia, turning around. He brings us to the heart of things - and to find there forgiveness, grace and mercy.
He helps us to see the whole landscape: of ourselves and our world. He helps us to see the points of disconnection or estrangement, of selfishness or carelessness. The fractiousness of what we call in shorthand ‘sin’ which undoes creativity and goodness.
John, like the other prophets before him, speaks in such a way that lives can be turned around - realigned with God’s purposes.
Luke locates him alongside Tiberius, Pilate, Herod - and his voice from the edge contrasts with their dominance and greed. He calls for resources to be diverted - for justice to be enacted.
Quoting Isaiah, he gives us visual images for what that looks like: valleys, filled; mountains, lowered; crooked, straightened; rough, smoothed. It is a re-imagined world where inequality and oppression are levelled out.
In this wild place, where John speaks, we can reimagine the landscape; a landscape where all flesh shall see the salvation of God. Advent is in many ways a spiritual ‘location’ where we can hear the word of God in new ways - when we are redirected towards God; where we might be discomforted in order to find comfort.
The contrasting allegiances Luke sets up invites us to consider what norms we might need to let go of or turn away from: in our lives, in community and online, we encounter persistent cries to consume and accumulate; culture wars which lead to judgmentalism and division; dehumanising indifference towards others or a selfishness that cuts us off from them.
If we’re honest in our self-reflection, we might find some of those cultural or ethical norms creeping into our own hearts too. It might be that instinctive reaction to or avoidance of people not like us; the irritations or misunderstandings that niggle away at us.
But thankfully that is not the end point of our human condition. We have the opportunity, moment by moment, week by week, to redirect our hearts and minds towards God. To find there the promise of renewal and refreshment - a grace that strengthens us, a mercy that is balm to our wounds and the forgiveness of what is past.
As we turn, as our lives are recalibrated, we find our hearts opening up to the one who is the source of life and love, the one who makes us whole. We celebrate this hope in baptism - dying and rising with Christ.
The words of the prophet Malachi point us towards God’s love: the imagery he uses of a refiner’s fire or fuller’s soap suggests that renewal comes through testing and cleansing, bringing to light what is precious, what was always there.
He reminds us that the coming of Jesus, the prince of peace, is good and joyful news. He also reminds us that his coming in love does not leave us unchanged. We are renewed and restored - moving us towards joyful praise and also a faithful obedience as we walk in God’s ways of love.
Paul gets all this. As he writes out of his own challenging circumstances, his feelings are intense; his gratitude towards others great.
In his prayer, he piles on adjectives to speak of a love that abounds, overflows, increases more and more. This abundance of love is God’s work brought to completion in human lives. It is a love that holds others in their heart - that seeks after knowledge and understanding, that is courageous and wise.
It is a love that enables glimpses of Christ-like-ness in us. A love that is located in us. A love that we need to tend and nurture. Here as we break bread, as we are assured of being forgiven, renewed, recalled and blessed, may we share Paul’s joyful and thankful prayer - for each other and for those saints unknown to us.
© Julie Gittoes 2024