“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my saviour…”

You can get over-familiar with sacred texts. They can become like unrestored old master paintings, covered in a dark brown layer of varnish – beautiful in a safe, decorous way; familiar, unchallenging. I’d like to remove a bit of the varnish this morning, by focusing on that word “rejoices”. It is the usual translation of a Greek word which is a whole lot stronger and gutsier than “rejoices” might suggest. This is not restrained, dignified rejoicing – this is the letting out of a yell of joy, an unrestrained cry of exultation. “My spirit whoops for joy at God my Saviour”. And suddenly we see not a serenely meek Raphael Madonna, but a big-hearted, full-blooded teenage girl shouting “Yay!” and punching the air in delight. 

And I use the word “Yay!” advisedly, for the reason that we focus on Mary when we celebrate the fourth Sunday in Advent is that she said “Yes” to God, was willing to accept the consequences and received the Grace and the strength which empowered her to say “yay!”

That is astonishing, when you consider Mary’s position at that moment in her life. Mysteriously pregnant in a society in which women who conceived children out of wedlock risked being stoned to death. Uncertain of the future, not yet knowing the strange, terrible, heartbreakingly surprising dance that her unborn son would lead her in – to the foot of the cross, to the empty tomb and beyond. Yet she speaks as though God’s saving work is already accomplished – piling past tense upon past tense…

“He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.” 

That repeated use of the past tense offers us a clue as to why Mary was able to say a full-throated “yes” to God’s purposes for her. She had been brought up in the Jewish faith. She was practiced in prayer. She was familiar with the Hebrew scriptures – the Magnificat riffs on the Song of Hannah in the first book of Samuel and also on Psalm 113 which includes this verse:

“He raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap…”

This context of faith and devotion helped her to assent to God’s purpose for her. It was a context of faith in which it was possible to tell her story to Elizabeth knowing that she would get a sympathetic hearing rather than condemnation and scornful rejection.

That is the context that we seek to sustain in this place, aware that our beliefs and practices are not as widely shared in this country as they were sixty years ago. While we aren’t in the perilous situation in which Mary found herself as a result of saying yes to God’s calling, we do live in a culture where religious belief attracts scorn, ridicule and critical hostility. Yet there are signs that the secularist tide is turning. One of the outstanding podcasts of 2024 was by the Christian commentator Justin Brierley. It’s called The Surprising Rebirth of Belief in God and it’s based on a book with the same title. It explores the ways in which the militant atheism of Richard Dawkins, Daniel Dennett and others which was very influential in the aftermath of the attack on the World Trade Center on 9/11 has given way to a more thoughtful and receptive attitude to religious belief and the fact that Christianity is attracting new converts among the educated classes in Britain and the USA who have previously poured scorn on it.

This is encouraging news for us as we seek to share the Gospel; to be “yea sayers” in a culture which still has plenty of “nay sayers” but which is now becoming more receptive to what we have to share. 

Mary’s full-hearted “yes” to God and the “yay” of delight that she expressed in the Magnificat were the responses of an exceptional and saintly person to a supremely important calling. The lesson for us is that her “yes” and her “yay” were possible because her knowledge of scripture and her prayerful life had made her receptive to God’s calling. Those means of cultivating receptivity – prayer and reading the Bible - are open to us. To say “yes” to them can enable us to discern and respond to God’s calling and say “yes” to that. And that in turn will make it possible for our “yes” to become a “yay”. 

The readings throughout Advent focus our thoughts on Jesus’ first advent, the advent that we are living through today and his final advent that we pray for. All of today’s readings encourage us to rejoice, be happy and prepare for the joy we will find in Jesus Christ. Henri Nouwen, a 20th century theologian tells us that there is a difference between happiness and joy.

Happiness is dependent on external conditions, things that make us feel good. Joy is, however, the experience of knowing that we are unconditionally loved and that nothing, absolutely nothing can ever take that love of God away from us. Thus, joy can even be experienced in the midst of sadness.

Pope Francis said a few years ago that today, Gaudate Sunday (a Sunday for rose vestments and relaxing of the Advent strictures of fasting and penitence) should be a day of joy and he encourages everyone to stop fretting about all

they haven’t yet done to prepare for Christmas and instead to think about all the good things life has given you and the joy that brings. No wonder the reading from St.Paul, this morning calls us to rejoice.

There are many good things in our lives that we can be thankful for, even in the times when life is difficult. If we can begin to see these things they can often give one the strength to go on and to come through times of darkness and pain. It is a bit like when we lose a loved one. The pain is great but we often come through it by remembering the good times we had with them and the things that brought us joy when we were together. Nouwen is right we can find joy even in the depths of despair. It’s hard, but joy is never taken away from us if we look for it and remember it.

In today’s readings; Zephaniah, is reminding the Hebrews in the 7th century BC of the good things God has done for them, despite the difficult times they were living in. He calls them back from worshiping idols to worshipping the living God and he encourages

them to counter corruption and false teaching by remembering the joy they have in God’s love. That too, is as I have said, is exactly what St.Paul is doing in his words to the Philippians; come on he says there are good things in your lives to give thanks for and to be joyful over and they will out weigh the bad. St.Luke, likewise, uses the image of John-the -Baptist to remind his readers that in Christ much is promised and even more is delivered. As such Luke encourages us to share the things we have and to be just to those we have dealings with. Don’t demand more than is owed and from your treasures give to those who have less than you do. That to me is good marketing by our faith to encourage us to give to charities and those who need help. For in doing so we can make others rejoice and experience joy in knowing they are not forgotten.

Rejoice in the Lord, always and in doing so you will remember those things that bring you joy, for those are the things that can never be taken away. Because once God gives them they are ours for eternity. Our God is generous and loving and this Gaudate Sunday reminds us of

that fact. So enjoy today, really enjoy today and give thanks to God for all the good things you have been given.

Rejoice in the Lord, always, again I say rejoice.

Malachi, the last of the prophets to appear in the Old Testament tells us this morning, that:

“The Lord will send his messenger, who will prepare his way before him.”

St.Luke, recounts the ministry of the last Old Testament prophet; John-the-Baptist and how he urged the Israelites to repentance and preparation in order to meet the Christ, face to face.

How well were these prophets of old heard? 

How well do we hear their voices, today? 

Luke’s quote from Isaiah, in relation to the Baptist, remains very true:

“ … like a voice crying in the wilderness.”

I don’t know how many of you have been into the desert? It can at first sight appear to be a dry, barren place where at night the silence is deafening. I have been into the Sahara, and into the area around Massada, in Southern Israel. Both places were wildernesses, desolate places full of unseen dangers, loneliness and death. These are the images that come to my mind when I hear John's voice crying in the wilderness.

It can, however, be just as desert like and desolate in the middle of the city or within a dying relationship - when you have no one to relate to. Think back to the times when you may have felt  a bit down  and longed to see someone, or to engage in stimulating conversation with a friend and no one has called. How painful and isolating that can feel. This is as much a barren, empty, wilderness as the desert.

Scripture, however, teaches us that in order to reach the ‘Promised Land’  we first have to cross the wilderness. We have to seek out and heed God’s word and respond to it. The wilderness we have to cross, is the one within our own hearts. We have to allow God into this barren place, so that he can renew us and liberate us from our guilt and fears, thereby enabling us to grow. To grow into him.

The Baptist’s call, this morning, is a challenge. He is urging us to repent of our sins and to open our hearts to the Lord. It is a dangerous challenge because if we open our hearts to God, we will surely be changed; and any change is scary, difficult to accept and not  always easy to deal with. It is easier and safer to stay as one is - it’s comfortable and secure. 

BUT, be warned! 

If you do not change, you will not grow, and you will effectively keep God out of your life never maturing into the whole person, that God calls you to be.

Last Sunday in his splendid sermon for the feast of Christ the King, David brought us to the end of the Christian year. So today it falls to me to start off a new Christian year, the first Sunday of the season of Advent.

This is not an easy task. The poem “Wachet auf” by the poet Ann Lewin sum it up:

Advent.

Season when 

Dual citizenship

Holds us in

Awkward tension.

The world intent on

Spending Christmas,

Eats and drinks its way to

Oblivion after dinner:

The kingdom sounds 

Insistent warnings:

Repent, be ready, 

Keep awake, 

He comes.

Like some great fugue

The themes entwine:

Demanding our attention

In shops and pubs,

Bore their insistent way,

Through noise and traffic;

Underneath, almost unheard,

The steady solemn theme of

Advent.

Clashing, blending

Rivals for our attention,

Pulling us with increasing

Urgency

Until in final resolution,

The end attained,

Harmony in awful

Stillness, and

The child is born.

He comes, both Child and Judge.

And will he find us

Watching?

This is the problem for each of us as Christians. We cannot ignore the joy, the anticipation and the excitement leading up to Christmas, especially not if we share this with young children. Indeed, I think it would be wrong for us to do so. Loving and giving are an essential part of even a purely secular Christmas.

But, we have to resist the temptation of allowing ourselves to be drawn so deeply into the preparations and the fun of Christmas that we lose sight of, have no real time for the seriousness of the Advent season. It is the beginning of God’s year. And our God is the God who comes to us. The Old Testament is the history of God’s lovingkindness to humanity, and of human sin and failure to appreciate God’s goodness. Finally God comes himself, in the person of his Son, to reveal his true nature and to draw humanity back to himself. At Advent-tide we recall his gracious coming, and at the same time acknowledge and repent our share in the human sinfulness which made that coming necessary. 

Is there any way for us to resolve the dual tension which the season of Advent forces upon us, the tension between the world and the kingdom? I have to be honest and say that I don’t really think so. We are humans, and we are Christians. But perhaps now, at the beginning of the Christian year, is a better time than the first of January for us to make a real New Year’s resolution. Perhaps to spend more time and thought in the study of Scripture. Perhaps to be kinder and more understanding of our difficult neighbour, or family member. Perhaps to be more readily tolerant and forgiving of hurts we have suffered, and perhaps to be more careful not to inflict hurts. Let us at the very least remember that it is Advent, and that we are called to repent, and watch for the coming of the Christ Child.

My kingdom is not from this world

In September 1974, Archbishop Michael Ramsey was invited to visit the Anglican church in Chile. He must have felt some trepidation because the year before the democratically-elected government of Salvador Allende has been overthrown in a military coup, and the country was now under the control of a repressive dictator, General Augusto Pinochet. Ramsey was invited to preach in an Anglican church, and a journalist from The Observer turned up for the occasion. There was an armed guard outside the church and when the journalist left at the end of the service the guard asked him whether there had been any politics in Ramsey’s sermon. The guard then patted his gun in a rather menacing fashion and said:

“He must stay with the things of the soul because politics is for us.”

That’s a sentiment that you’ll still find from time to time in our own press when a senior cleric comments on a political issue. It’s a sentiment informed by the widespread and erroneous belief that you can neatly divide issues into “the sacred” and “the secular”, and that when it comes to contentious issues religious believers should not be expressing opinions, as though religious belief were merely a private hobby.

Those who take that view sometimes refer to today’s Gospel, using the Authorised Version’s translation of Jesus’ words in verse 36.

“My kingdom is not of this world…”

That version makes it sound as though Christ’s kingdom is other-worldly and purely spiritual, a kingdom that can be compartmentalised in the way that the armed guard who questioned the content of Michael Ramsey’s sermon believed that it should be. But that isn’t what the original Greek of St John’s Gospel is saying.

Much hangs on how you understand and translate a small two-letter preposition, the Greek word ek. Jesus uses it three times in verse 36 and he almost certainly did speak some Greek, for he had been a carpenter and Greek was the common business language at that time and we know that he gave one of his disciples a Greek nickname – Petros the rock – Simon Peter. 

As we have seen, the Authorised Version translates that little preposition as “of”

“My kingdom is not of this world…”

The New Revised Standard Version does a more accurate job.

“My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.”

In saying that his Kingdom is not from this world, Jesus is speaking about the source of his authority. And the word which is translated as “world” is the Greek word “Kosmos”, which we apply not just to Planet Earth but to the whole universe, the whole of creation. And so, the Feast of Christ the King encourages us to look forward towards Christmas, the Feast of the Incarnation, God’s entering into the created order in order to show us God’s true nature and to challenge earthly notions of kingship. 

We can’t, of course, know what if any emphasis Jesus placed on these words, but I don’t think it’s stretching a point to speculate that what he told Pontius Pilate was

“My kingdom is not from this world.”

Pilate’s authority was very much from this world. Historians have suggested that his family’s origins were relatively humble.  It’s likely that Pilate owed his promotion to effective military service, and he certainly owed it to the Emperor Tiberius who appointed him. As Procurator of Judaea, he had the authority to appoint the High Priest. Caiaphas had been appointed by a previous procurator, and Pilate kept him in post, so he in turn owed his position to Pilate and his authority was therefore also “from this world”.

The point that Jesus is making is that his kingship is not worldly in its methods. 

If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews.

Jesus confronts worldly power with a new type of sovereignty which uses methods quite different from those of Caiaphas and Pilate. His is a sovereignty grounded in love and not exercised by force. He is not bent on worldly status or power, as the temptation narratives in Matthew, Mark and Luke show us. He challenges those of his disciples who are jockeying for status and power. He models a servant kingship when he shocks the disciples by washing their feet.

Above all, his is a Kingship based on truth, a quality sadly lacking in so much of our politics.

“For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”

That’s a profound challenge to the way we think and act politically, for the belief that we are in full possession of the truth – that the truth belongs to us – can lead to fanaticism, intolerance and violence, including religious fanaticism, intolerance and violence. Jesus challenges us to belong to the truth, and the truth to which he invites us to belong is difficult and challenging. It’s a truth that calls us to love our neighbour as ourselves; that calls us to love our enemies. It calls us to forgive and, when times are fearful – and they are very fearful at the moment – it says: “Do not be afraid” and it reminds us “I am with you always, to the end of the age.” To accept the kingship of Christ is to commit to belonging to truth.