Sermon Archive

“Prepare ye the way of the Lord.” Prepare to meet thy God. For the Child soon to be born shall be called “Immanuel”—which is to say, “God with us.”

At the beginning of this service, as I do every 2nd Sunday of Advent, I gave forth with a blast from the Jewish instrument called a shofar, a blast to announce boldly and brashly, to announce John the Baptist-like—to announce the soon-coming of God, to alert us to our need before Christmas to prepare God’s way. (Blow the shofar again.)

This is indeed a time for us to prepare to celebrate the birth of Jesus, the birth of the Messiah, the birth of the Christ, the birth of the perfect image of God, the birth in human flesh of God’s very self, come to dwell among us.

Advent—a time for preparing to celebrate the birth of Jesus, for preparing to meet our God, for preparing to let the God who is in Christ come to fill us and transform our lives.

On Christmas Eve Christ comes to us in a manger, as the innocent Babe of Bethlehem.

But throughout Advent, as we prepare for Christmas Eve, Christ comes to us already as the stranger in our midst, as the person in need who knocks on our door or passes by our home.

As we prepare to meet our God on Christmas Eve, Christ, the image of God, already comes to us in each person we meet. For as the image of God, Christ lives within each and every person.

There’s a wonderful short story by the renowned 19th-century author Leo Tolstoy entitled “Where Love Is, God Is.” (1885; trans. by L. and A. Maude) I want to share with you this morning my abridged version of it.

In a certain Russian town, there lived a cobbler, Martin Avdéich by name. Martin had always been a good man, but in his old age he began to think more about his soul and to draw nearer to God. That had come about in this way.

Martin had long been a widower, and all of his children had also died. In anger, following the death of his last son, Martin had for many years stopped going to church. Then one day a deeply religious old friend from out of town had visited Martin and had advised him that despair arises from wishing to live for one’s own happiness. “What else should one live for?” Martin asked. “For God,” the old friend answered. “When you have learned to live for God, you will grieve no more, and all will seem easy.” Martin remained silent a while and then asked, “But how is one to live for God?” And the old man answered, “Go and buy foryourself a copy of the gospels. Read them. There you will see how God would have you live. It’s all there.”

So Martin had bought for himself a copy of the gospels—in large print, for his eyesight was bad—and he had begun to read. At first he’d meant to read only on holidays, but having once begun he found that it made his heart feel so light that he’d read the gospels every day. It was from that time that Martin’s whole life had changed and had become filled with peace and joy.

One night Martin read from the 7th chapter of the Gospel of Luke, the story of Simon, a man who’d entertained Jesus at a dinner party but had failed to greet Jesus with a kiss or wash his feet or anoint his head with oil. After reading the story, Martin took off his spectacles and thought: “That Simon, he must have been like me. He too was thinking only of himself—how to get a cup of tea, how to keep warm and comfortable. He took care of himself, but for his guest, for Jesus, he took no care at all.”

Martin laid his head down, on his arms, and fell asleep. In his dream, he suddenly heard a voice calling, “Martin! Martin, look out into the street tomorrow, for I shall come.”

Next morning Martin rose before daylight, and, after saying his prayers, he lit the fire and started his cabbage soup and his porridge. Then he lit the samovar for tea, put on his apron, and sat down by his window to work while waiting expectantly for Christ to come.

It was winter, and old Stepánich arrived to clear away the snow. “I must be growing crazy with age,” Martin said, laughing. “Stepánich comes to clear away the snow, and I imagine it’s Christ coming to visit me. I’m an old fool. Still, Stepánich does look tired and cold. I’ll call him in and give him some tea.” Stepánich came in, and three glasses of tea later was warm and comfortable. As Stepánich left, he said, “Thank you, Martin Avdéich. You’ve given me food and comfort both for body and soul.”

Martin returned to cobbling by the window, while awaiting the visit from Christ promised in his dream. A stranger, poorly dressed in summer clothing and holding a crying baby in her arms, passed by his window, shivering badly from the cold. Martin leapt to his feet, hurried to the door, and called after her, inviting her to come in to get warm. The porridge wasn’t yet ready, but the soup was. So he set it out for the woman, together with bread, and offered to care for her baby while she ate. As Martin played with the infant it stopped crying. The woman told her story while Martin listened. Then Martin told his story while she listened. As she left, he wrapped an old cloak of his around her shoulders and said, “Take this for Christ’s sake.” He also gave her money so she could get her winter shawl out of pawn.

Martin returned to his cobbler's bench and resumed his watch out the window for Christ. People he knew and strangers passed by, but no one remarkable. Then late in the day he saw a fight break out between an apple-woman and a young boy who’d snatched an apple from her basket. The boy was screaming, and the old woman was holding and scolding him. Martin ran into the street and separated them. He took the boy by the hand and said, “Let him go, Granny. Forgive him for Christ’s sake.” “I’ll beat him so he won’t forget it,” she said, “and then I’ll take that rascal to the police!” Martin begged, “Let him go, Granny. He won’t do it again,” And turning to the boy, he said: “Ask for the Granny’s forgiveness, and don’t do it again.” The boy began to cry and did beg her for pardon. But the woman said, “He ought to be whipped.” “Oh, Granny, Granny,” Martin said, “that’s our way—but it’s not God’s way. If he should be whipped for stealing an apple, what should be done to us for our sins?” The old woman stood silent while Martin told her Jesus’s parable about the landowner who forgave a servant a large debt, and how that servant then went out and wrongly seized his debtor by the throat. “God bids us to forgive,” Martin concluded. Some five minutes and much conversation later, the boy and the woman walked off together, happily, he car-rying her heavy sack.

Martin returned inside to his window, once again to work and wait. Presently he noticed the lamplighter passing his way. Evening had come, so Martin finished his work, gathered his tools, lit his reading lamp, and took down his copy of the gospels from the shelf. As it fell open, he thought he heard footsteps. Martin turned round, and it seemed to him as if people were standing in the dark corner, but he couldn’t make out who they were.

A voice whispered in his ear: “Martin, Martin, don’t you know me?” “Who is it,” muttered Martin.

“It is I,” said the voice. And out of the dark corner stepped Stepánich, who smiled and then, vanishing like a cloud, was seen no more.

“It is I,” said the voice again. And this time out of the darkness stepped the woman with the baby in her arms. The woman smiled, and the baby laughed; and they too vanished.

“It is I,” said the voice once more. And it was the old woman and the boy with the apple who stepped forth from the corner. Both smiled, and then they, too, vanished.

And Martin’s soul grew glad. He crossed himself, put on his glasses, and turned to read his large-print gospels just where they had fallen open; and at the top of the page he read (Matthew 25:35): “For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” And at the bottom of the page Martin read (Matthew 25:40): “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you did it to me.”

And just then Martin understood that his dream had come true and that during that day he had met Christ, the image of God. He had met Christ not once, not twice, but three times!

So as we wait through Advent for Christmas Eve to come, let us not miss our opportunities to meet Christ here and now—to meet Christ in our encounters with others.

This Advent, let us prepare to meet our God on Christmas Eve by recognizing that each person around us is, in truth, a living image of God, one who should be welcomed by us as we would welcome the Christ child.

This Advent, let us prepare to meet our God, to welcome the birth of Christ, by serving here and now the image of God who is our neighbor.

Let us pray: