Expect the Unexpected: The Third Sunday in Advent (Sunday, December 16, 2023)

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be alway acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, our Strength and our Redeemer. Amen.

Jude and I have started reading The Hobbit before bed. Every time I read it, I’m struck by the way that the main character—Bilbo, a small and seemingly insignificant hobbit—evolves over the course of the story, going gradually more and more brave as he goes on an adventure. It’s interesting because at the beginning of the quest, the dwarves who make up the company ask the wizard Gandalf why he included Bilbo in their party as the burglar and Gandalf answers that he saw something in Bilbo and that he wouldn’t bring anyone on the journey that he didn’t see something in. So Bilbo’s character development is really him recognizing what is already true about him as Gandalf has observed. So as we’ve read, it’s hit me that we love stories of underdogs, of unlikely heroes; we love to see the unexpected.

This human longing to see the unexpected is fulfilled in the Scripture. Over the summer, you might remember, we looked at the story of Israel and the Exodus and which began with the call of Moses from the burning bush. In that story, God calls Moses to lead the people up out of Egypt but Moses resists, claiming he’s not a good speaker and so God gives Moses multiple signs and encouragement before Moses finally gives in and obeys. My theory is that in the Hebrew mind, Moses was such a towering figure that the story of his call acts as a kind of template for all the other leaders God called during Israel’s history. Gideon was called by God in the book of Judges but he resisted because he believed he was the weakest member of the weakest clan in all of Israel so God gives him signs and a promise and Gideon delivers the people from their bondage. In Isaiah 6, the prophet is transported to heaven and God asks “Who shall I send?” Instead of volunteering, Isaiah comes up with all the reasons it shouldn’t be him: he’s a man of unclean lips from a people of unclean lips. So God sends an angel to take a coal from the heavenly altar to touch the lips of Isaiah, cleansing them, empowering him to preach the prophetic message God had called him to. And today, we have the story of Jeremiah’s call which follows this same pattern. God calls Jeremiah to be a prophet but Jeremiah resists, claiming “I cannot speak: for I am a child.” This objection feels especially ironic given the way God introduces the call: “Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations.” God knows Jeremiah better than Jeremiah does; in fact, God has already made Jeremiah what he’s being called to be. So Jeremiah’s statement, while feigning humility, is actually a kind of false modesty that ultimately reflects a lack of faith. If God formed Jeremiah in the womb; if God called Jeremiah; if God sanctified and ordained Jeremiah; then why would anyone question whether Jeremiah could speak well enough? In response to this doubt, God offers Jeremiah two things. The first is reassurance: “Whatsoever I command thee thou shalt speak. Be not afraid of their faces: for I am with thee to deliver thee.” The second thing God gives Jeremiah is a sign: he put forth his hand and touched his mouth, saying “Behold, I have put my words in thy mouth.” The underlying message here and in the other call narratives is not that these flawed men are special on their own merit; it’s that they’re special because God chose them and is so powerful that he can overcome their insecurities, deficiencies, and flaws.

In many ways, this call of Jeremiah is a fitting reading Advent, a season in which we are taught to expect the unexpected. In Advent, we are taught to look at the helpless baby lying in the manger in the little backwater town of Nazareth if we want to see God. As we progress through the Church year and approach Holy Week, we’ll see him in the most unexpected place: the Cross. He’s not in the whirlwind; he’s not in the fire; he’s not in the earthquake; he’s not in the power of empire; he’s not in the wealth of kings. He’s in the still small voice of the baby cooing in the manger. He’s in the still small voice of an occupied territory. He’s in the still small voice of the Cross that so many people see as weakness. And this is precisely where the hang up is for so many people: they can understand God as Creator. They can even understand God as good. But God on the Cross? “He came to his own, but his own received him not.”

In fact, we see John the Baptist wrestling through this today. While in prison, he sends messengers to Jesus to ask him if he’s the one they are expecting or if they need to be on the lookout for someone else. No doubt, John’s prompted to do this because Jesus has been spending time with tax collectors and sinners; this is not where the Jews of Jesus’ day would think to look for God. When God shows up in unexpected places, many have a tough time believing it. This is the point St. Paul makes at the beginning of 1 Corinthians: “the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolishness; but unto us which are saved it is the power of God.” The cross is a stumbling block because it confounds our expectations but, as Jesus tells John, “Blessed is he, whosoever shall not be offended in me.” Blessed are we when we can discern God in those unexpected places and see them as an occasion to worship him rather than be offended.

And so with what time remains, let us be alert and sober, as St. Paul reminded us in the Romans 13 a few weeks ago. We should be especially awake to the fact that God works in those unexpected places. We’re about to see one of those unexpected places in the Eucharist: God comes to us by transforming the unassuming Bread and Wine into his Body and Blood. Our Collect for today highlights another way God works: in his Church and through the priesthood. To people outside, this is just a gathering of a random assortment of people where we all make each other feel nice through community and mutual encouragement. And that’s not entirely wrong but it’s not the entire truth: what the world doesn’t see is that this isn’t just us here today; we are here to worship alongside angels and archangels and all the company of heaven. We are being transported and participating in heavenly worship. The third and final way God works unexpectedly is in you and me. “he who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it until the day of Jesus Christ.” God takes all of who we are, all our insecurities, deficiencies, and flaws and transforms us into little Christs. This is the great hope afforded to us by that little baby in the manger.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.