What's Tony Thinking

An Advent Spirituality

A common characterization of the Old and New Testaments is that the Old Testament God is a God of judgement, while the New Testament God is a God of love. It is as persistent as it is mistaken.

The readings for this coming Sunday, the Third Sunday of Advent 2024, challenge this simplistic if durable error. The words from the Old Testament prophet Zephaniah (3: 14 – 20) brim with joy, while the gospel reading rings with judgment.

Zephaniah calls God’s people to “Rejoice and exult with all your heart . . . for the Lord has taken away the judgments against you . . . he will renew you in his love.” Meanwhile, the New Testament passage, Luke 3: 7 – 17 features John the Baptist thundering at the assembled people, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come!” Frustrated clergy may be tempted to echo John’s words. Careful. You might develop a case of “the common scold.”

But larger point is, it’s the same God all the way through, and both testaments convey both judgment and grace.

Now, let’s linger on the proclamation of John the Baptist. John does open with a most scathing attack directed, not at neer-do-wells or reprobate, but at those who considered themselves the elite, the (ahem) clergy and the “good people” (which most of us do think we are, don’t we?).

After calling people vipers, John continues, “Do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father.'” His point is to challenge the presumption of those who imagine lineage or resume entitle them to God’s favor. It’s like someone saying, “My family and I have been members of this church for generations — so you must give us whatever we want!” Sorry, no resting on history or heritage, says John. “Bear fruit that befits repentance!”

John continues his fiery sermon: “Even now the ax is lying at the foot of the tree, every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.”

At this point the crowds who have gone out to the wilderness to hear John ask a great question, “What then should we do?” Don’t just thunder about repentance in the abstract, John, get specific, get concrete. There’s a good Advent challenge to preachers. “You’ve got our attention now . . . tell us what we are to do?”

And John does. He tells those who have food and clothing to share with those who have none. Then he focuses on two particular groups: tax collectors and soldiers. He tells both — stop using the power entrusted to you to line their own pockets via shakedowns. Just do your job, says John, and be content with your wages.

I like the down-to-earth nature of what of this Advent ethic. Share with those in need. Do your job. Don’t take advantage of people. Be content with what you have. That’s my kind of spirituality. The down-to-earth kind. I hear a lot of talk about “spirituality” these days. But it often seems to me pretty unclear what is meant by that word. It seems to mean something like finding inner peace or feeling good about yourself. A bit vague and self-preoccupied, if you ask me.

John may be saying that true spirituality isn’t about all about breathing, or “manifesting,” or you feeling good, even inspired. It is about acts of sharing, of kindness. About being content with your life. (Which is kind of the opposite of the message of our society: we are constantly encouraged to want more, i.e. to be discontent with our life). A good Advent ethic. Down-to-earth. Real. Something you can do.

But John, importantly, doesn’t end there. He goes on. He says, “I baptize you with water, but there is one who is coming after me who is more powerful than I.” He points to the incarnate Son of God who will bring a baptism of the Holy Spirit. In the end then, the down-to-earth spirituality of John, is necessary but not sufficient. It is not the last word. The gospel is not “clean up your act.”

One comes who brings grace, forgiveness to you, to all. The righteous judgement against you is set aside, by God, in his Son. There is a new beginning, as fresh, wondrous and miraculous as a newborn baby. Your sins and failures are blotted out, forgotten. Jesus brings what Zephaniah foretold . . . “renewal in his love.”

Practice the down-to-earth Advent ethic of concrete acts of sharing, caring, contentment and justice/ fairness, but know this — there is more. There is an amazing grace, there is mercy for the broken, there is a balm in Gilead and a light in the darkness. We have a loving Savior who comes bringing healing in his wings, who renews you in his costly love.

I sometimes quote Calvin saying, “Salvation is all about grace, ethics is all about gratitude.” In that formulation, grace precedes ethical action, and is a response to grace. I believe that. Grace and response. That’s the gospel.

Yet here, John calls for ethical action to precede the grace of the coming of the loving Messiah, Jesus. John’s down-to-earth ethic is not, however, in order to gain God’s favor or earn Christ’s grace so much as it is to anticipate and celebrate it, to make ourselves ready the coming of a Savior. Kind of like cleaning house before welcoming a guest you love. This is an “anticipatory” ethic grounded in our hope in God and God’s action.

Prepare your heart and life with down-to-earth Advent acts of decency and mercy — not to earn Christ’s love or grace, or to signal your virtue, but in joyous anticipation of a grace and mercy that comes from beyond us and to us.