Eucharist – Mr Jazz Wilson Third Sunday of Advent – 15 December 2024

Performed by Mr Jazz Wilson

Readings:
Zephaniah 3:14-20 (‘I will save the lame and gather the outcast, and I will change their shame into praise’)
Luke 3:7-18 (Jesus teaching the crowd, tax collectors, and a soldier)
Philippians 4:4-7 (‘rejoice in the Lord always’; ‘do not be anxious about anything’)

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

Our reading from Luke’s gospel begins with John the Baptist delivering a message in the region around Jordan. His message is about repentance and forgiveness. It is for all people – it is for us.

When we think about repentance, we often think about saying sorry for doing things we shouldn’t, or perhaps not doing things we know we ought to have done.

But when John the Baptist comes preaching repentance and forgiveness, it is not moral failure as such that he is asking us to repent of. It is not society’s standards of morality and fairness. What John preaches is a repentance for lacking faith in God.

This may come as surprise to some of you, especially given the nature of our liturgical prayers when we weekly approach God to ‘acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness’, because we tend to associate sin and wickedness with a sort of Victorian idea of moral goodness and shame.

But the Bible tells another story. As St Paul points out to the Romans – and he is consistent with the Hebrew writers of the Old Testament – ‘whosoever is not of faith, is sin’ (Romans 14:23). That is to say, what sin is being equated to in the Bible is a lack of faith in God, not a failure to be morally virtuous.

Now, the common-sense objection to this would be: ‘but Jazz, doesn’t that just mean that I can be as immoral as I want, so long as I have faith in God?’ But the point here is not that Christianity and morality are mutually exclusive – quite the opposite. Rather, it is a point about supremacy. For the Christian, it is not that we judge Christ by the standards of morality, but that we judge morality by the standard of Christ. And when confronted with that, we typically find that our moral failures are so absolute, are so ingrained within us, that not only are we unable to be morally pure but neither are we able to have the faith we wish to have.

And that is why we say ‘Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy.’ Because we are stuck. Because sin clouds our judgement. And that sin – the failure to have faith in God – has moral consequences. People become corrupt. And their corruption creates injustice.

Consider our Gospel reading, where John the Baptist addresses three groups of people:
1) Firstly, some tax collectors
2) Secondly, a group of soldiers, and
3) Thirdly, the crowd in general.

And I will go through each of these groups, in addition to what John says to them, to draw out this point about the consequences of lacking faith in God.

Firstly, the tax collectors. In Britain today, most of our tax collection, like National Insurance Contributions, occurs completely out of sight on a spreadsheet somewhere. But in the time of John the Baptist, you did not have spreadsheets and efficient civil service functions. Instead, the Roman authorities charged elected magistrates with collecting taxes. But there was a problem with this structure: The Empire was vast and coins had to be physically collected from people.

Furthermore, magistrates could come only from the wealthy upper classes, so they had to strike deals with local people to collect the coins on their behalf. Such locals, called publicani, would agree to bring in a certain amount of money to the magistrates over a given period, but were left to their own devices as to how they brought that money in. Perhaps predictably, their methods were corrupt: they could invent taxes on the spot, they could tax you twice, they could loan you money and charge unaffordable interest rates. And in order to make money they would skim whatever they could off the top. Shrewd publicani would strike a hard bargain with the magistrates on one side and their local communities on the other. And so they were particularly – and rightly – despised in the time of John the Baptist.

Now, for a moment I want you to contemplate who you think of in society that oppresses people in this way. Perhaps it’s the 1%; corporate executives who buy up smaller business, deprive them of investment or load them with debt while accepting huge bonuses for themselves. Maybe we think of the kinds of people who own – or have owned – energy industries in this way, or water companies. And now we’re living with high costs and polluted rivers.

It incites our anger when we think of injustices like these. And we are right to be angry.

So, what does John the Baptist say to the tax collectors? He says ‘collect no more than you need’ (Luke 3:13). And, presumably, he would say the same to the corporate executives of today.

Secondly, the soldiers. There were different grades of soldiers across the Roman Empire in the First Century. Like tax collectors, there were soldiers drawn exclusively from the upper classes called legionaries. Legions were reserved for the most strategic conflicts. Areas of less sensitivity in the Empire were guarded by auxiliary garrisons or militia in areas that acted more like independent states within the Empire, including the areas ruled by, for example, Herod the Great.

Soldiers from the satellite regions were therefore drawn from the lower classes and, again like tax collectors, they were recruited from the local people. They were under the orders of Rome. But, similar to tax collectors, they were also known for corruption. They could extort people in their communities, plunder travellers or harass those they didn’t like, threatening violence if necessary.

Who are the soldiers in our day? Not, in the main, those who join our armed forces. But perhaps those who are in a position of power – whatever that is – who intimidate others to get what they want. Those guilty of modern slavery; those who take advantage of migrants in our communities, paying them far less than the minimum wage, people traffickers. Or maybe it’s more insidious. Being involved in an accident and faking an injury to receive as much money as possible from an insurance pay out. Not being charged for an item at the till and not informing the operator. When we are in a position of power, whether by accident or design, the spectrum for corruption is wide.

So, what does John the Baptist say to the soldiers? He says, ‘do not extort money from anyone, and be content with your wages’. And, presumably, he would say the same to those in positions of power today.

Thirdly and finally, he addresses the crowd in general. It could have been anyone then, and it could be anyone today. To them, and to us, he says to share what we have with those in need (Luke 3:11). And what do we have? What do you have? Whatever we have, we are challenged to share it with those in need.

What each of these groups have in common – the tax collectors, the soldiers, and the crowd in general – is a fear that lies at the root of every one of us. It is the fear that we might not be safe. That we might not have enough money, that we might not have enough clothing, that we might not have enough power, enough status, enough health, enough time. And so much of what we do is to try and secure that stuff ourselves. But when human beings are pressed into a corner, or when they are in positions of power, that pursuit can corrupt us and create injustice for others.

The heart of John’s message is not to reprimand people. It is not repentance for immorality that he preaches; it is repentance for lacking faith, for not trusting in God to provide all that we need.

Because if we dare to believe, our faith prevents us from taking advantage of others in the ways John describes – but it also inspires us to give, to divest ourselves in spite of our fears that we may lose everything we have.

Culturally, Christmas/Advent is a time of giving. But there can be a risk in giving. What if we are not left with enough? What if I lose my job tomorrow? Surely it is wise to save what I have instead of giving it away, in case I lose everything. And yet St Paul tells the Philippians to ‘not be anxious about anything’ and that if we need anything, to ask God for what we require (Philippians 4:6). His promise is that, if we live in this way instead of constantly trying to secure our own welfare, that we will experience a ‘peace…which surpasses all understanding’, one that will guard our hearts and minds (v7).

Can we trust that God will give us everything we need, even if he asked us – as he did the rich man – to give everything away? Because that is challenge, and the promise, of Christianity.

This Advent and ever after, may we have faith in the God whose promise is salvation and forgiveness. May we feel absolutely safe no matter what happens to us, because we believe. And may we, as St Paul encourages, rejoice in the Lord always. Amen.