Third Sunday of Advent
12/15/2002
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Rejoice in God With Us
Deacon Rick Lapierre
An imaginary conversation with St. Paul might go like this. We take the bus down to Cranston, to ACI Maximum and in the visitors' room, after having passed through security and having been scanned and searched, there's Paul sitting at the table, his wrists in handcuffs. He has this funny smile on his face and his first words to us are: "Brothers and sisters! Rejoice always!"

We look around at the bars and stone walls and armed guards. "Rejoice always? Are you crazy? You're sitting in prison with no idea what is going to happen to you, we're about to go to war, the economy is in the toilet, my kids are driving me crazy and my company is about to downsize me into unemployment."

And Paul says with conviction, "You're not listening. Can't you see it? Can't you feel it? The Spirit of God is right here, right now! The stuff you're worried about is fleeting. God is with us, Emmanuel. How can you be down in the dumps worried about who's getting what for Christmas? I'm sitting here in prison, accused of proclaiming the gospel and I've never been happier. That's my wish for you, that's what I want God to give you for Christmas. Perfect holiness, perfect oneness with God the Father, the Creator, the Lover. 'The One who calls you is faithful and He will accomplish it'."

The letter to the Thessalonians that I've adapted for our use was written by Paul after he had left Thessalonika for Athens or Corinth. It is the earliest of Paul's writings and is the oldest written book of the New Testament. Paul's reception in Thessalonika was mixed. While many were converted to Christianity by his words, many were also incensed at his rejection of the ancient rites and Paul had to be smuggled out of town to avoid his being killed. And yet, writing from another town to those with whom he shared the Good News, he can proclaim proudly the need to rejoice because of the presence of God.

Now let's jump backwards in time about 600 years. The prophet we now refer to as Second Isaiah is sitting in Babylon. He is a captive of the Babylonians, who destroyed Jerusalem a century before and carried the people into captivity. Cyrus, the king of Persia, is knocking at the doors of Babylon and it appears to Second Isaiah that the Jews are about to be liberated by Cyrus' actions, which Isaiah attributes to the power and promise of God.

Second Isaiah also used the word "rejoice". He is a witness to the power and love of God for His people. The darkness of captivity is about to be ended, as God makes good on His promise to always be with His chosen ones. The message of the prophets in the Old Testament is constant. The chosen people reject the covenant and its law and it leads them into bad times, yet God always brings them back to Himself. The captivity in Babylon is another example of this pattern of rejection of God by the people and God again healing the separation caused by their sins.

And going once again forward in time to the desert outside Jerusalem just before the coming of Jesus' public ministry we find John the Baptizer proclaim the same message as the prophets who had come before him. God will once again deliver His people from their own wickedness.

We hear in the messages of the prophets that God will be with His people, that God will deliver His people, but there is something that occurs that can perhaps be sensed but is never quite stated. John is close when he speaks of the coming Messiah as one whose sandals he is not even worthy to untie. But did John really know who was coming? Did John recognize that this Messiah, a blood relative of his, was in reality the second person of God? That God was no longer going to inspire men to do His will for Him, but was coming into humanity Himself to save it? No wonder their message was one of "Rejoice". It is always a joyous occasion when we are delivered from disaster, but to be delivered by God Himself gives us a message of hope and power that can hardly be believed.

That is the message of hope that John the Baptizer delivers to us. It is the message of God's own presence that Paul encourages us to shout the word "Rejoice" at. It is the power of God that Isaiah can only intimate at but bears the truth of Emmanuel, which in spite of all that we experience and dwell in, that God is indeed with us.

And that knowledge, my brothers and sisters, is why we have to be a joyful people this Advent. As I am writing this it is raining and dark outside. The stories of the Church in the media this week have left me tired, angry and discouraged, yet in my little den, a candle is burning and the Hallelujah chorus is playing on the stereo. God is indeed with us and will not leave us, no matter what. A crèche, a candle and a crucifix remind me of that.

And there are so many other signs of this knowledge of the presence of God as well. We only have to be attuned to what God is trying to do in our lives. I'll close with this story by a woman who wrote: "One day I answered the door and there were two children in ragged coats, huddled outside the storm door. 'Any old papers lady?' the boy asked. I was busy, preoccupied with my own worries and poverty. I wanted to say no, until I looked down at their feet: thin little sandals, sopped with sleet. 'Come in and I'll make you some cocoa.'

"There was no conversation. Their soggy sandals left marks on the rug. I served cocoa and toast with jam to fortify them against the chill outside. Then I went back into the kitchen and began to try and balance by household budget. The silence from the front room struck me. I went back in. The girl held the empty cup in her hands and the boy asked, 'Lady, are you rich?' 'Am I rich, mercy no' I said. I looked at the shabby slipcovers and rundown appearance of my house.

"The girl put her cup carefully back in the saucer. 'Your cups match your saucers', she said. Her voice was old, with a hunger that was not of the stomach. They left after that, holding their bundles of papers against the wind. They hadn't said thank you. They didn't need to. They had done much more than that. Plain blue pottery cups and saucers, but they matched.

"I began to cook supper. 'Well,' I thought, 'food, a roof over our heads, a husband with a steady job, faith in God and love of family and friends. These things match too.' Suddenly I felt a strange sense of peace, an awareness of God in the small things of my life. As I walked back into the living room I noticed the muddy footprints of small sandals on the rug. I left them there. I wanted them there to remind me, in case I forgot again, of how rich I really was."

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