December 7, 2025
Advent 2
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.
We sing a short melody each week as we light the candles on the Advent wreath. The first time we heard it, someone said, “That song is remarkably Jewish.” Yes, it is. The melody comes from a Yiddish folk song. It yearns in a minor key. The harmony does not resolve; it lingers in the air, unfinished. That is a Jewish song, a remarkably Jewish song. And it prompts us to hope.
That’s one of our Advent verbs: hope. The other is watch. What we are watching for is the very thing for which we hope. But what would that be? What are you hoping for Christmas?
There was a line of cars driving into one of the local casinos, bumper to bumper, inching along. What are all those people hoping for? A good steak dinner? Some entertainment to counter the dark nights? Or do they hope to hit it big? Like the hat somebody was wearing on TV: MLAA - make life affordable again.
What are you hoping for Christmas? Everybody to come home and circle around the tree? All those old acquaintances, not to be forgot and come to mind? As life rolls on, the herd disperses and time together thins out. Some may still receive Christmas cards, but for others, it’s like Charlie Brown at Christmas, echoing inside an empty mailbox. “Hello in there…”
Is there something you hope for? Peace of mind? Gentleness of spirit? Perhaps to sleep through the whole night without tossing or turning or waking at 3:00 a.m.? Whether emotional, mental, or physical, peace would be a great gift if it weren’t so elusive.
So, what do you hope for Christmas, for Christmas and beyond Christmas? Listen to what Paul said: “Read the Bible.” He was referring to his Bible, the Jewish Bible, before the Christians added him to their Bible. His suggestion is if we read the ancient scriptures, we might find encouragement and gain some hope. His hope is that people will “live in harmony with one another,” that they will get along – but more than merely get along – that they will work for one another’s benefit.
Paul remembers four Jewish texts from his old Bible: Psalm 17, verse 50; Deuteronomy 32:43, Psalm 117, verse 1; and Isaiah 11:10. He’s paraphrasing these from memory, not concerned with quoting them exactly, because in these four texts, as in others, he has heard the Advent promise of God - that people of good will welcome one another, that they will live side by side with one another, that they will flourish together. It won’t matter if they are Jews or Gentiles – because the Christ has come for all. There is the true possibility of human community.
Can we hope for that? Watch for that? Work for that? I think we can. And that, as they say, reminds me of a story.
In January 2024, Overbook Presbyterian Church lost their sanctuary to a devasting fire. It was Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday. The congregation had met, then scattered to serve the community through projects around that part of western Philadelphia They returned to discover the sanctuary was in flames. The building was a total loss. The congregation could not worship there, much less gather. It was a terrible tragedy.
It also had personal implications. My daughter had planned and arranged to have her wedding there that May 18. The day of the fire, I contacted my daughter, knowing this would ensue panic. I’m glad to say the situation resolved. We were able to rearrange the location of her wedding. She's married, she's happy, and life has moved on.
But I've always wondered what happened to Overbrook Presbyterian Church. How did they negotiate that loss? What did they do? How did they get through it? A month ago, The Philadelphia Inquirer filled in the gaps.
It seems many local congregations reached out to Overbrook Church and its pastor, the Reverend Adam Hearlson. One of the congregations was Temple Beth Hillel - Beth El, a conservative synagogue in nearby Wynnewood. The rabbi, Ethan Witkovski had been acquainted with Pastor Hearlson. He reached out to say, “What can we do for you? We have available space. We would be glad to host you for whatever would make sense to you and your congregation.” That included space for meetings and office work.
Pretty soon, Adam picked up on that invitation. The Presbyterians began to meet in the synagogue for Bible study, committee meetings, board meetings, and again, some office space. The rabbi enjoyed the comradery and commented it was wonderful to share the space with another clergy person. “He would wander into my office and discuss everything from scripture to emails. It was amazing,” he said. The friendship continued. It grew stronger.
They had prayer services together as a congregation, particularly when the synagogue was vandalized with a swastika. The Presbyterians said, “We are standing with you. You don't have to deal with this alone. We are family of faith together.” The hope, Pastor Harrelson said, is that if you don't remember who started the mutual circle of care, it continues to feed back on itself, and you live in that circle recognizing its goodness.
And there were moments that were just extraordinary. One of the Presbyterian described a study session where both rabbi and pastor each taught a piece of scripture from the other's tradition. She appreciated the depth of scholarship as the rabbi spoke about the Sermon on the Mount. That evening, Pastor Hearlson taught a passage from the Talmud, the central text of religious Jewish law. She said, “It helped broaden my understanding of both of our traditions.” They have more in common than what separates them.
The big test came as the church prepared for Easter. The rabbi suggested the synagogue would be a wonderful place for the Presbyterians to have their Easter service. It was a novel idea. Some Presbyterians were concerned about putting up a cross and hosting Easter in a Jewish space, but the synagogue board said, “That would be no problem whatsoever.” There was immediate enthusiasm.
And then Holy Week came. Everybody realized Easter last year landed on the eighth day of Passover. That meant the church and synagogue would hold services at the same time. About two hundred Jews and three hundred Christians gathered under the same roof to pray separately but together. They all prayed for rebirth and renewal. Then came a moment of recognition: what do the Presbyterians do when serving communion? It was Passover. The synagogue could not allow bread with yeast into their building. If there was to be communion, it would have to be with matzah, the unleavened bread eaten on Passover.
Pastor Hearlson said, “I was up front as the congregation was taking communion. I said, ‘Take, eat, this is my body broken for you,’ and there was an audible crunch. And people giggled all through the sanctuary. We've never had that before.
When the Easter service concluded, Pastor Hearlson invited anybody present to come and sing the Handel's Hallelujah Chorus with the choir. Both Christians and Jews joined in the song. Afterwards, both congregations shared a meal, with an Easter egg hunt on a synagogue lawn. Inside the plastic Easter eggs was kosher candy selected so that Jewish students could participate too. One of the synagogue kids kept a plastic Easter egg to put on his Passover Seder plate the next year.
Pastor Hearlson said, “I can't tell you how theologically generous this idea is. Up until now, out on the main line of Philadelphia, we've had kind of a live-and-let-live belief. But this was something more. We're going to actively support each other. We're going to be involved in one another's lives.”[1]
And I add: isn’t that what God intended from the beginning? In a reflective moment, the apostle Paul says as much. Today’s text was written to a community in the city of Rome, constituted of Jews and non-Jews. He addressed them together because they have heard from Paul and others that the promises God made centuries before to God’s people Israel are now available to all because of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. [2]
Today’s text is the summary of what God has to say: “Welcome one another, as Christ has welcomed all of you, for the glory of God.” God hopes to create a large community. That is our hope, too. It’s our Advent hope, thanks to the Messiah who has come and will come again. The closed circle must be expanded. The distinction between insider and outsider has dissolved by the Christ who has come for all.
Paul has learned the text from his Hebrew Bible: “The root of Jesse shall come, the one who rises to rule the Gentiles; in him the Gentiles shall hope.” That’s from the prophet Isaiah, chapter 11. Our Christian future is rooted in our Jewish past. Our heritage reaches back to Jesse, the father of King David, and it stretches forward until all shall see the love and justice of God in Jesus the King, the Son of David. This is the scope of our hope.
“Welcome one
another, just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.” All the
promises of God lie ahead of us. We can watch some of them become real here and
now. We can lean into God’s future to make life more bearable for others. The
signs are already among us. Peace is possible. Harmony is possible. Love is
possible.
Don’t you
hope?
[1] Denali Sagner, “A Pennsylvania synagogue
opened its doors to a local church. A ‘deeply profound’ partnership ensued.” The
Philadelphia Inquirer, 28 October 2025.
[2] Cyntha M. Campbell, “Pastoral
Perspective on Romans 15:4-13,” in Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 1
(Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2013) 40.
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