Hoping for Christmas

Romans 15:4-13
Advent 2
December 4, 2022
William G. Carter

For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, so that by steadfastness and by the encouragement of the scriptures we might have hope. May the God of steadfastness and encouragement grant you to live in harmony with one another, in accordance with Christ Jesus, so that together you may with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Welcome one another, therefore, just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God. For I tell you that Christ has become a servant of the circumcised on behalf of the truth of God in order that he might confirm the promises given to the patriarchs, and in order that the Gentiles might glorify God for his mercy.

As it is written, “Therefore I will confess you among the Gentiles, and sing praises to your name”; and again he says, “Rejoice, O Gentiles, with his people”; and again, “Praise the Lord, all you Gentiles, and let all the peoples praise him”; and again Isaiah says, “The root of Jesse shall come, the one who rises to rule the Gentiles; in him the Gentiles shall hope.”

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Today is the Second Sunday in the season of Advent. The music is joyful. The purple color signifies our longing. And as we move toward Christmas, the apostle Paul gives us a good word, an Advent word, a word he repeats four times. The word is hope. We all know it.

But what is its substance? And where does it come from?

I thought of that yesterday, as I visited the Lackawanna Winter Market on Courthouse Square. Walking among the other visitors, I wondered, “What are all these people hoping for?” Some hoped for nice weather. They were not so lucky. Someone was looking for a good price on homemade candles and tried to talk the merchants down. Somebody else was hoping for a free sample of fermented cider. They were handing those out in thimble-sized cups.

It was a pleasant event and raised a recurring question for December. If Advent means shopping for bargains, the whole season has become a lot smaller. Faith has been discounted. Aren’t we hoping for something more than that?

One thing we know. Paul wasn’t hoping for the birth of Jesus. That had already happened, almost sixty years before. He writes to them from Corinth, the major seaport in southern Greece. He hopes to hop aboard a ship, go to Rome, and meet the people who would receive this letter. Yet he was hoping for something more than that.

In this enormous letter to the Romans, Paul has already spelled out the expansive hope of the Gospel. In chapter eight, he hopes for the redemption of the universe. “All creation has been enslaved to its own decay,” he says (8:20). “Yet God will finally release all things from that burden.” We will be free from death, free from sin, free from our worst mistakes – and this will be God’s doing. This is the center of our hope: redemption! All that belongs to God will be claimed by God. That’s chapter eight.

In chapter nine, ten, and eleven, he speaks of the people God loves, beginning with his own people, the Jewish people. He knows they have a long history of turning away from God, but he knows God has never given up on them. Then he acknowledges that God loves everybody else, too. He can see the inclusion of the Gentiles in God’s saving work. It’s like an olive tree with new branches grafted on. And this is big.

Paul had to be pushed beyond what he used to think. He once believed God was the exclusive property of Jews like himself. That was before Jesus Christ appeared to him on the road to Damascus and knocked him off his high horse. And when the dazzling light faded, he returned to the scriptures, the ancient Jewish texts. He had to rethink everything in light of the presence of the Risen Christ.

And there he found what he was searching for. He found it in the Psalms: “I shall praise you, O Lord, among all the nations.” (18:49). He found it in the final words of Moses, “Rejoice, O Gentiles, along with God’s people.” (Deuteronomy 32). He found it in the hymn book: “Praise the Lord, all you Gentiles.” (Ps 117:1).

And then he remembered the Advent words of the Prophet Isaiah: “The root of Jesse shall come, the one who rises to rule the Gentiles; in him the Gentiles shall hope.” (Isaiah 1:1, 10).

So here is the message for today: hope comes from our memory. Hope is more than a random wishing for things. It is remembering what God has promised. What God has promised is that we are all part of something really big. The whole creation is being healed. God is taking in the universe for repairs. There is a heavenly salvage operation, a salvation operation.

The sign to prove it’s true is Jesus. He comes from the family tree of Jesse, as Isaiah promised. He is risen to rule us all, just as the women announced from the empty tomb. He is the One who welcomes you and me into the family of God. He calls us to work with him as God heals the world. Hey, church, remember Jesus? He is our hope. And hope comes from our memory.

Now, memory can be slippery, especially for those of us over the age of fifty. I couldn’t remember where I put my car keys this morning. And my family tells me that, as I age, my memory not only has lapses. It has also gained enhancements. The stories have gotten bigger. The details sparkle brighter. The punchlines are sharper. I remember things that never quite went that way.

That’s why Paul’s memory does not come from his mind. It comes from his book. Our book. God’s Book. How far back can you remember? Paul remembers Father Abraham who lived two thousand years before him. God said, “Abraham, count the stars in the sky. That’s how many children you are going to have.” Abraham believed the Lord. That was counted to him as righteousness (Genesis 15:5-6). Paul remembers that, too.

This is where hope comes from, from the memory that all of us belong to God, and that we are part of God’s transformation of the universe. Remember that? As one of the scholars has said, “Just as Scripture’s purposes for humanity are inextricable from the very nature of God, the inclusion of the Gentiles is not a back-up plan nor a course correction: this has been God’s intention all along.”[1] God says we belong. We’re part of his redemption. That’s our hope.

Some years back, Michael Lindvall wrote some stories about a Presbyterian church in the imaginary town of North Haven, Minnesota. The pastor’s name is Dave, and he had to contend with a pushy old elder named Angus MacDowell. Angus had been there a lot longer than Pastor Dave and reminded him regularly of that. One December, he announced to Pastor Dave that his daughter, her husband, and a brand-new baby would visit for the holidays, and it was “time to get the baby done.” You know, “baptized.”

For nine years, the family had lived in Spokane, Washington, two thousand miles away. Pastor Dave said, “Why can’t they join a church out in Spokane and have the baptism there?” But Angus was Angus, phone calls were made, votes were promised, and the elders approved the baptism, which Pastor Dave had to do. Fair enough. As was his custom, he said, “Who stands with this child?” The immediately family stood. Dave splashed three times – Father, Son, Holy Spirit, and that was that.

Except that wasn’t that. After the service, a woman approached him at the door. She gave her name, “Mildred Corey,” and said, “My daughter Tina just had a baby named Jimmy. Shouldn’t we have him baptized, too?” Pastor Dave said, “Well, have Tina and her husband call me. We can sit down, talk about it, and schedule the date.”

“Tina doesn’t have a husband,” said Mildred. “She and little Jimmy live with me. She was confirmed in this church four years ago. Used to come to Youth Fellowship, and dated an older boy, and well...” She paused and then said, “She got pregnant and wanted to keep the baby and wants to have him baptized in her home church. But she’s afraid to talk to you, so I decided to talk to you.” Pastor Dave looked at Mildred, and said, “I will take the matter to the Session.”

He didn’t know how it would go. He explained to them that Tina was confirmed as a church member. She wasn’t married. The father had not been named (even though it was a small town, and everybody had a good idea who he was). They discussed the matter at length, a lot longer than they had discussed Angus’ grandchild from Spokane. A few kept asking, “How do we know they will show up again after we approve the baptism?” Pastor Dave wanted to say, “Well, at least they don’t live in Spokane,” but he didn’t say that.

After considerable debate, the Session approved the baptism. The date was set for the Sunday before Christmas. The poinsettias were decked out. The Advent wreath was lit up. The pews were full. And Pastor Dave said, “Tina Corey is presenting her son Jimmy for the sacrament of baptism.” As she came forward, he nodded toward Tina’s mother to ask, “Who stands with this child?” Mildred stood as Pastor Dave looked back to his little minister’s book.

But suddenly there was rustling in the congregation. Pastor Dave lifted his eyes to see Angus MacDowell stand, along with his wife Minnie, then a couple of other elders, and a sixth-grade teacher, and a new young couple, and soon, the whole church was standing up for little Jimmy.

The author writes,

Tina began to cry and her mother held on to the pew as though she was standing on the deck of a rolling ship in a great wind, which in a way, she was. For the Spirit was moving, blowing where it will and it had moved people in the most surprising ways. At first, the unexpectedness of the routine was unsettling, but then we all seemed to move into a quiet reverence, even little Jimmy who had been wiggling and squeaking. And as the water touched his forehead, he seemed to sense the importance and power of the moment. The water rolled onto his hair and then his nose and then his cheek, and his eyes were fixed as though he was concentrating on something. Every other eye was on him, who was, for this moment, everyone's baby.

I looked up and I noticed Angus straining to see the child from several pews back with an open-mouthed smile. And I thought to myself, maybe that's what Angus understood and I did not—that out there in Spokane, his grandson would have others to watch him grow and Angus would be here to help Jimmy grow.[2]

“Welcome one another, just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God." This is our memory from the scriptures. We gather here to open the Book of Life and recall the grace and justice of God – as reported and remembered by those who came before us. We break the bread and pour the cup, remembering the self-giving love of Jesus that cancels anything that threatened to separate us from the love of God.

We remember Advent means God is changing the world, beginning with the likes of you and me. We build up on another, pledging to never consume, demean, nor take ill advantage of another person. We work for one another’s well-being, paying special attention to all who struggle. We make our life together a sign of the hope that the scriptures have planted within us.

Jesus Christ welcomes every person without restriction. Don’t you remember? Through Christ, God is saving all creation. Don't you hope?

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.

[1] Kara Lyons-Pardue, “Romans 15:4-13 - A Plain Account.” Quoted in http://www.textweek.com/pauline/rom15.htm

[2] Michael Lindvall, The Good News from North Haven: A Year in the Life of a Small Town (New York: The Crossroad Publishing Company, 2002) 181-186.