Sunday Sermon, 7 December 2025

The Second Sunday of Advent.

A reading from Gospel According to Matthew

In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”

This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said,

“The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
‘Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.’”

Now John wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.

But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruit worthy of repentance. Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.

“I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

Matthew 3:1-12 NRSV

What is it about the wilderness? A wilderness can be a bare and barren place where nothing much grows, or an overgrown tangle of branches and roots. Alternatively, the wilderness can be a state of mind -- a feeling of sterility and yearning, or of chaos and lack of direction. Yet, often, we need a wilderness experience to get rid of life's distractions and to begin to see ourselves with greater honesty. If we look at the scriptures, the wilderness seems to be a place where things happen and unexpected gifts arrive; manna, water from the rock, voices calling, angels ministering. There can be a sense that God is not far away but is moving towards us.

And out of the wilderness, in today's gospel reading, strides the somewhat forbidding figure of John the Baptist; clothed in animal skin, scavenging for food and proclaiming, 'Repent'. Yet he must have had charisma, for we are told that the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were thronging to him and being baptised. Somewhere amidst his message of doom, of wrath to come and being thrown into the fire, there is also a glimmer of hope -- prepare the way of the Lord; Messiah is coming!

It's hope that I want to concentrate on this morning. Hope is an essential part of Advent -- that strange limbo time of waiting for the coming of the Christ-child into the world. At the very darkest time of the year we await the coming of the Light. In Spanish the verb 'esperar' has two meanings -- to wait and to hope. A perfect summary of Advent.

The Prophet Isaiah, in the passage we have just heard from chapter 11 gives us a marvellous vision of hope: ‘A shoot coming from the root of Jesse, one on whom the spirit of the Lord rests - who judges with righteousness and equity. Isaiah paints a picture of peace and serenity and a time when the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord. The other New Testament reading set for today is from Paul’s letter to the Romans and it ends with this beautiful blessing – ‘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.’

Hope – there’s that word again. It is such a fundamental part of Christian life. In the darkest of times it is hope that keeps us going, that helps us to put one foot in front of the other on the rocky road. It’s hope that makes Christmas special for us, in spite of the commercialisation and the hype. We can see through all that to the message of light in the darkness, God coming to live among us as a simple baby.

The American poet, Emily Dickinson, wrote these words:

‘Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul – and sings the tunes without the words – and never stops at all.’

And that idea of the song that never stops leads me on to a quote from a poem by Thomas Merton:

‘Make ready for the Christ,
whose smile, like lightning,
sets free the song of everlasting glory
that now sleeps in your paper flesh,
like dynamite.’

Those few lines sum up the waiting and hoping of Advent for me. The coming of the Christ will be like lighting the blue touch paper of the dynamite buried within us, and so releasing the glory of God. How marvellous if we can become like beacons, relaying the glory of God to others, near and far!