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The other day as I sat in my office I heard the church bell ring.  Nothing surprising about that, but I don’t always hear it.   Most of the time I’m busy or listening to music or otherwise distracted.  Anyway, at this particular moment, there were five wrings.  It was 5:00 in the afternoon, and as I glanced outside I realized it was dark.  Pitch dark.  

It’s interesting, isn’t it, that Advent arrives – in this part of the world, anyway – just as the days are getting noticeably shorter and darker.

It’s a fitting reminder, I think, of the importance and the meaning of the Advent season.  After all, the reason we light candles and hang bright stars during Advent is to remind us that even when it’s dark, God’s message is a message of light. 

Images of light overcoming darkness take many forms.  Biblically speaking, they can be found in dozens of places, particularly in the words of Jesus.

Familiar Jesus sayings like “I am the light of the world” and “You are the light of the world” come to mind. These and other similar sayings find their way into our consciousness throughout the year.

But it is during Advent that the message that God is light and that light always overcomes darkness is front and center. 

And this year, as Advent begins, I for one can really use the light it brings.  It’s not just the shrinking daylight hours, either.  It seems pretty dark out there, sometimes, even in the middle of the day when the sun is shining.

What is it that makes me feel that way?  Well, you see, I have two really annoying habits. 

By the way, I’m not talking about habits that annoy other people.  I’ve got plenty of those, too (just ask Kris – she’ll be happy to provide you with a list). 

No, the habits I’m talking about are two things that I keep doing even though I know that I’d probably be happier if I stopped.  First, I read the New York Times every morning – particularly the editorial and op-ed pages –and second, I listen to talk radio – generally when I’m in my car, but also at lunchtime, most days, sitting at my desk.  So every day, in both print and sound, I get reminded – by both the left and the right – that there is some really ugly stuff going on in the world, and that there appears to be no end in sight.

The Times columnists, speaking from the left, among other things chastise the Administration in Washington for mishandling the Iraq war and remind their readers – me included – that the war has become, in Thomas Friedman’s words, “a sucking chest wound for our country.” 

While the syndicated talk show hosts, speaking from the right, among other things belittle me and anyone else who doesn’t agree that Islamic Extremists are about to conjure up a plan to detonate a nuclear weapon somewhere in the United States. 

And that is only one issue.  Others include global warming, social security, same-sex marriage, the right to life vs. the right to choose, etc., etc., etc.  It’s enough to make you want to head for cover. 

Fortunately, however, Advent is here, and with it comes a very bright ray of hope in the midst of all the darkness.

The Old Testament lesson we read a few minutes ago is one of those rays of hope.  It’s a brief passage.  Let me read it for you again.  The prophet Jeremiah writes:

“The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah.  In those days and at that time, I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land.  In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety.  And this is the name by which it will be called, ‘The Lord is our righteousness.’”

This passage from Jeremiah is within a section of the book which scholars call “The Little Book of Consolation.”   For good reason.  Its primary theme, as you can see from this section, is encouragement and hope in the midst of horrible catastrophe and despair.

Let me set the scene. 

As this passage is being written, some 600 years before the birth of Christ, the Babylonian armies under Nebuchadnezzar are laying siege to Jerusalem.   Its fall and destruction seems both inevitable and imminent. 

The inept King Zedekiah is on the throne of Israel. The Babylonian armies are literally at the gates of the city.  And if that is not enough, the prophet Jeremiah, our author, is in prison.  To say that things are incredibly bleak would be an understatement. 

In the midst of this horror, the word of God is radical.  A contradiction.   It is a word of hope, completely at odds with the events that are happening in Jerusalem on a daily basis.

 And the prophet Jeremiah chooses to stake his life and his future on that word.

Jeremiah decides to act.  Even now, he does not doubt the future. So what does he do?  He buys a plot of land just at the moment of disaster.  He makes an investment that no rational individual would make, given the circumstances. 

Jeremiah, you see, is willing to bet that God will be right. 

As every hope dwindles, he purchases a piece of land for the future. He puts himself on the record as one who has hope.

The basis for his action is an un-provable, unmeasured word that there will be a future that is totally different from the present.

This is incredible faith.  A faith in which everything depends on the word of God.  One that is not supported by any visible evidence. It takes enormous nerve, as well as great faith, to act in a concrete way toward the future when it is clear that the known present is about to end.

The only ground for such an act is the belief that God can, in fact, do the "impossible"—that God can create a bright future out of a dark, hopeless present.

When Jeremiah writes, in our text for this morning, that the Lord will “execute justice and righteousness in the land,” and that “Jerusalem will live in safety” he is writing those irrational, optimistic words from the position of one who not only believes it but who has, as it were, put his money where his mouth is.

So the message for us, today, is first and foremost a message of hope.  It is a flash of bright light in the midst of the darkness. A message that there will be a future that is totally different from the present.

That is not the end of it, however.  In addition to its primary message of hope, the message of our text is also a message of Justice. 

The prophet clearly tells his readers that when the promise of God is fulfilled, it will come in the form of Justice. 

Hear his words, once more:

“In those days and at the last time,”  he writes, speaking for God, “I will cause a righteous branch to spring up for David (clearly a reference to Jesus for us Christians); and he (again, Jesus,) shall execute justice and righteousness in the land.”

It doesn’t get much clearer than that.   Whether we call it the Reign of Christ, or the Kingdom of God, or whatever phrase we use to describe the embodiment of the rule of God on earth, the change in the order of things foretold by the prophet Jeremiah is unquestionably about justice.

It stands to reason, then, that we who are followers of God, called to bring about God’s Kingdom, must at all times be seekers of Justice.  Unfortunately, however, the reality is that while it is clear that justice is a Christian imperative, the process of translating that imperative into action in the here and now is is an extraordinarily complicated and difficult task. 

If you’ll permit me to use a chiche, if you ask ten Christians for a definition of justice, you will get twelve different responses.

For Martin Luther King, seeking justice meant laying down his life for the cause of equality.  For Deitrich Bonhoffer, it meant plotting to assasinate Hitler.  For many others, over the years, it has meant voting rights and women’s issues and the rights of children and countless other issues that all have two things at their root:  a compassion for those in our society who are left out and left behind, and a willingness to, like Jeremiah, do something about it.

What, exactly, should it mean for us?  I’m not sure.  My sense is that it should be a commitment to address the root causes as well as the results of the poverty which effects this town in so many ways.  Whatever it turns out to be, however, I’d love to see us put justice and what we should do to be seekers of justice at the top of our agenda as we plan together and pray together about the mission of this congregation in the years ahead. 

But as we stand here today, with darkness around us, let us rejoice – now and for the rest of the Advent season – in our faith that the Light of the World is coming indeed, and let us revel in the hope that accompanies that light; the hope that there will be a future that is totally different from the present.

And let us also commit ourselves anew to work to make sure that the Advent light will shine for us and through us to bring about, in this place, a kingdom of righteousness and justice in this land, in this community, in this time.    

AMEN