Last night
Commentary
The Canadian film Last Night presents an understated approach to global apocalypse. Unlike Hollywood end-of-the-world blockbusters, Last Night doesn't have any special effects; it doesn't even tell us why the world is ending. We only know that it is, and we watch as people prepare in their own ways. Some visit long-lost friends and relatives. Others try to get home, despite the crumbling infrastructure (Why go to work, if the world ends tonight? It's a wonder anyone's still running the power stations). Some, having nothing better to do, see fit to help strangers. Others roam the streets in anger. Still others gather in the park for one last long pathetic party.
In the Bible, we find the same certainty that there will be a last night. The question of how to spend it is answered quite differently. Rather than lament, Zephaniah tells us to rejoice. Rather than take out our anger on others, Paul tells us to be gentle. And rather than party, Luke tells us to repent.
Zephaniah 3:14-20
The closing of the book of Zephaniah presents a view of the last night that differs from that found in the rest of the book. In chapters 1 and 2 of Zephaniah, the Day of the Lord is when God sweeps everything away from the face of the earth (Zephaniah 1:2). Not only is there judgment against the nations, but there is judgment against Jerusalem and its corrupt leaders. The famous Dies Irae passage (1:14-16) promises "a day of wrath, a day of distress and anguish, a day of ruin and anguish, a day of ruin and devastation, a day of clouds and thick darkness" (1:15). God will come as a mighty warrior with "trumpet blast and battle cry against the fortified cities and against the lofty battlements" (1:16). Even in the beginning of chapter 3, the divine warrior language continues; God declares war on the earth, and it will not be pretty, "for in the fire of my passion all the earth shall be consumed" (3:8). But in 3:14-20, the last words of the book, the tone changes dramatically (this is one reason that many commentators think this section of Zephaniah is a later addition, reflecting an exilic or post-exilic setting).
Surprisingly, the divine warrior language continues in 3:14-20, but with a twist: now God is fighting for rather than against Israel. Heralds cry with news of God's victory: "Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem!" (3:14). Jerusalem is to fear no enemy (3:16), for "The Lord, your God, is in your midst, a warrior who gives victory" (3:17). Far from declaring war against the city (3:8), God now fights all foes on its behalf. God's protection is strong: "I will remove disaster from you, so that you will not bear reproach for it. I will deal with all your oppressors at that time" (3:18-19). For Zion, the Day of the Lord is not the end of the world -- far from it.
Mixed with this military language are more tender, priestly words. God speaks tenderly of Jerusalem as to a "daughter" (3:14). The people are exhorted not to fear, nor to quit their jobs in anticipation of the last night: "Do not let your hands grow weak" in despair, the prophet exhorts (3:16). As Israel was exhorted to rejoice, so God will return the favor: "He will rejoice over you with gladness, he will renew you in his love; he will exult over you with loud singing." God sings, as does Israel (3:14, 17). It is a day of festival (v. 18). Most importantly, God's action will remove the stain of shame that accompanied Israel's exile; in ancient Near Eastern societies, little was regarded more highly than one's personal and communal honor. God promises to restore honor to the people. "I will remove disaster from you, so that you will not bear reproach for it" (3:18). "At that time I will bring you home, at the time when I gather you; for I will make you renowned and praised among all the peoples of the earth, when I restore your fortunes before your eyes, says the Lord" (3:20). The exiles will be honored in the very places they had been shamefully exiled, for God "will change their shame into praise and renown in all the earth" (3:19).
Kingship language is also part of Zephaniah's closing section. God is not only warrior and high priest but "the king of Israel, the Lord" (3:15). In contrast to the corrupt leaders, priests and kings denounced in chapters 1-2, the Lord is the true king of this realm. The "oppressors" the divine warrior wards off include these arrogant local officials as well as foreigners; God the King takes their place (3:19). The prophet places the portrait of the royal God firmly in the tradition of Israel's shepherd-king (in the line of David) when he pictures the Lord gathering the lame and the outcast. The sheep have been scattered by enemies and predators, but the shepherd will bring them in, tend to their wounds, and restore their honor (3:19).
Coupled with the portrait of God as shepherd-king is language suggesting the courtroom. God offers legal immunity from further prosecution. The death sentence previously announced (3:8) has been commuted. "The Lord has taken away the judgments against you" (3:15). Where God had once borne witness and rendered a decision against Israel and the nations, in the last night God declares that the prophets will no longer issue oracles of "Woe!" (3:18; cf. 3:1). "He will renew you in his love" (3:17, following the LXX; the Hebrew reads, "He will be silent in his love," which doesn't make a whole lot of sense with all this singing and rejoicing going on!).
The last word of Zephaniah on the last night is that God has taken care of things for God's people, which is reason for celebration. Sing out!
Philippians 4:4-7
The theme of joy is continued in Paul's letter to the Philippians, often called the "epistle of joy." Even when discussing dissention within the community (Philippians 4:2-3), Paul can raise the cry, "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice" (4:4). Paul had plenty to rejoice about when writing the Philippians, since they had offered him "a fragrant offering, a sacrifice acceptable and pleasing to God" (4:18), that is, a substantial monetary gift in support of his ministry. The letter to the Philippians is in fact a letter of friendship designed to thank that church appropriately for their gift. The Christians at Philippi had heard of Paul's imprisonment (1:30) and responded with prayers (1:19) and gifts (4:17-18). Epaphroditus delivered these gifts to Paul (2:25; 4:18), but then became ill (2:26-27); upon his recovery he was sent back to Philippi with this letter of thanks (2:25, 28).
But Paul's exhortation to rejoice is not based primarily on the gift received, let alone any natural cheeriness. If anything, his circumstances in prison were dire. Paul carries his joy with him, in the person of the risen Lord. "Rejoice in the Lord" is his cry. "In the Lord" is not a pious addendum but the living source of joy. Rather than a simple encouragement, "Everything will be all right," Paul offers the assurance of faith. Because the living Jesus is with him, he can rejoice, no matter what the circumstances. The Philippians too can share the joy of resurrection.
The section of the letter just before the explicit offer of thanks (4:10-20), is a grab bag of loosely connected exhortations. Over these various commandments stands a theological conviction: "The Lord is near" (4:5). Paul may be alluding to Psalm 145:18, but he also reflects the prayer of his community that was summed up in the Aramaic phrase Marana tha, "May the Lord come!" (1 Corinthians 16:22; cf. Philippians 1:21-23; 3:20).
In light of the Lord's immanence, Paul has explicit instructions to the community: they are to think like Jesus (2:1-11; cf. 4:8-9). Paul's motto was not "What would Jesus do?" but "What would Jesus think?" Christians are to take on the "mind of Christ" (2:5; cf. 1 Corinthians 2:16). Crucial to that Christ-like mind was the virtue of "gentleness." The word Paul uses has a range of meanings that includes generosity, magnanimity, consideration of others, fair-mindedness, graciousness, and forbearance. Such "gentleness" he explicitly attributed to Christ (2 Corinthians 10:1). Paul's concern was for Christian honor in the larger community; such gentleness was to be on display "to everyone." Ideally, all nations could look to believers to see reflected the mind of their Lord.
Added to this gentleness was to be faithful trust in God's providence. "Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God" (Philippians 4:6). Anxiety over mundane needs was to be considered the very opposite of faith, in the words of Oswald Chambers, an "unconscious blasphemy." Here Paul reflects the teaching of Jesus himself (Matthew 6:25-34). He also speaks from the heart, since he was writing from a precarious situation, where his future was anything but certain -- imprisoned, he faced deprivation of life itself (cf. Philippians 1:12-26). He lived as he spoke, rejoicing in even the direst circumstances, and trusting God to provide his every need (1:18-19).
This trust Paul found in kneeling before God. "In everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God" (4:6). Paul gives us a mini-thesaurus of the early Christian language for prayer. He uses a general word for "prayer" as well as one that denotes petitions for what we desire or need, "supplications." "Requests" refers to specific acts of supplication or petition. "Thanksgiving" is the necessary attitude in which prayer and supplication is made; for Paul, it is the attitude endemic to the Christian life (1 Thessalonians 5:18). Prayer is not only the cure for anxiety, but the guarantor that "the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 4:7). Paul uses a military metaphor to make a very un-warlike promise of shalom: God's peace, something that is part of God's very nature and transcends human understanding or ability (4:9), will "stand sentry" over hearts and minds that think like Jesus.
Luke 3:7-18
John the Baptist brings yet a third view of the last night, and while it is less pretty than the other two, it is no less hopeful. Like the opening chapters of Zephaniah, John expects danger in that last night. He is somewhat uncomplimentary to the crowds that come out to be baptized by him: "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?" (Luke 3:7). John's vision of the end is filled with fire and judgment, and he pictures humanity as snakes slithering away from the conflagration. There is hope, however, for those who heed his message. "Bear fruits worthy of repentance" John tells them (3:8).
Luke deliberately places John within the framework of history, secular and biblical. An elaborate chronological formula pinpoints the time that word of God came to this prophet (3:1-2). John himself fulfills the prophecies spoken of him (1:13-17, 76-77). Carefully drawn contrasts between John and Jesus confirm that he is the one who "will go before the Lord to prepare his ways" (1:76), since the Stronger One (ho ischyroteros, 3:16), whose sandals John is not worthy to untie, is on the way.
John's predictions for this Stronger One reflect the seriousness of the situation. John deals in water; the Stronger One deals in the Holy Spirit and fire (v. 16; for Luke, the quite literal fulfillment of this prophecy will be found in his second volume, Acts 2:1-4). The Messiah will be like a farmer cleaning up after a long harvest, standing on the threshing floor with a winnowing fork in hand, gathering the wheat into the silo, but tossing the chaff into the air so that it can be collected for the fire (Luke 3:17).
Escape from this fiery finish cannot be inherited. The people of God cannot count on mere biological descent for their future: "Do not begin 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" (3:8; thus Luke foreshadows the Gentile mission). In another agricultural image, John describes the farmer Messiah placing the ax at the root of the trees, in order to chop down those that do not produce the "fruits of repentance" and are worthy only of the fire (3:9; cf. 13:6-9). That the danger was imminent is clear from John's words, "Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees" (3:9).
In a section unique to Luke, John gets specific about what the "fruits of repentance" might look like. In general, John advocates selfless care for others. In specific, John addresses three groups. To the crowds he preaches sharing: "Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise" (3:11). To tax collectors (probably independent subcontractors of indirect taxes -- tariffs, tolls, and customs) he preaches honesty: "Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you" (3:13). To soldiers (perhaps mercenaries enlisted in the service of Antipas, the Jewish tetrarch of Galilee and Perea) he preaches the responsible use of power: "Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages" (3:14; the verb Luke uses, "extort," means literally "shake down," and was probably originally suggested by the image of thieves shaking fig trees to steal the fruit). John preaches the spirituality of money and possessions; there is nothing that we have that we cannot share, and nothing that we can gain by dishonest means that is worth having. Our use of our possessions is an indication of the state of our hearts before God.
John's ethical instruction is rooted in his eschatological conviction; like Paul and Zephaniah, he expected the Lord to come soon. For Luke, his message can be described as "good news," despite the prophet's rough edges: "So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people" (3:18). This may seem ironic, given John's references to vipers, axes, and fire, but the message is literally good news to those who would perish without it. Those who heed John's message, who accept the baptism for the repentance of sins, and who live out the new life they have been called to, can look with eagerness to the coming of the Stronger One with the Holy Spirit and fire. In Luke's view, such spiritual fire will serve to further God's purpose (Acts 2:1-4). Unfortunately, not all who hear the message will heed it; Herod Antipas stands as a symbol for all those who oppose God's prophets when he jails John simply for speaking the truth (Luke 3:19-20).
Application
Flaming eschatology can be a hard sell these days. The smoking furnace of Zephaniah's Dies Irae is one image, with our modern penchant for war, that is all too common; it hardly means the end of the world. Paul's gentle faith that "the Lord is near" has had nearly two thousand years to blunt the edge. John's picture of a farmer Messiah wielding winnowing fork and ax may seem simply quaint. The prophets have been around for so long, it is hard for some of us to take them seriously.
This is not to say that modern people cannot envision apocalypse. Film and fiction thrive on it, but it rears its head outside of novels. Our memories would indeed be short if we have forgotten the panic inspired by the prospect of Y2K computer failures. Anthrax mailings, mysterious snipers, and the ever-present threat of terrorism prompt similar feelings. On a more personal level, we are reminded daily by the obituary columns that while society may survive, we will survive with it for only a short time. On a larger scale, there is no doubt that some day, many years from now, our sun will run out of fuel, snuffing out whatever intelligent society on Earth that has not already snuffed itself out.
To this impending mortality -- whether personal, societal, or planetary -- the prophets speak. That they have been saying it for some time, and at least some of us are still paying attention, testifies to the long-term relevance of their message. Zephaniah reminds us that given what religious folk believe, mortality is not all that it's cut out to be; even the end of the world is not quite the end of the world, for those who believe in God. Rejoice and sing, says the prophet, for God is on your side. Similarly, Paul calls us to rejoice that the Lord is near, taking our anxieties about this life to the God of peace, who will distribute that peace back to us. Even the most pessimistic of the lot, John the Baptist, holds out hope for those who are willing to follow God's path.
Is the last night at hand? At one point or another, we will all face that question. The correct answer to the question is not determined by our calendars, but by our lives.
Alternate Applications
1) Zephaniah 3:14-20. The violence of prophetic God-language is balanced in Zephaniah by contrasting metaphors. Yes, God is the divine warrior, marching towards a final battle with evil. Yet the warrior God also is performing a defensive mission, protecting the lame and outcast, the remnant of righteous in Israel. The all-powerful king is also a shepherd who draws these downtrodden sheep home for special care. The supreme judge has taken away the writ of indictment against the people. The high priest has spoken tenderly to children who need fear no more, neither let their weary hands drop. God will rejoice over us, and renew us with love.
2) Philippians 4:4-7. Paul's approach to possessions is an antidote to shopping mall culture. In Paul's thinking, physical need is subservient to the need to keep one's eyes on the Lord. The anxiety induced by things -- I must have that, how could I ever have lived without it? -- can be overcome by the faith that God will provide for our needs. Faith is activated by prayer, which is the anti-anxiety elixir. Such prayer, such faith leads to God's peace, which will stand sentry against the greed and covetousness that seeks to infiltrate our hearts and minds.
3) Luke 3:7-18. Similarly, John the Baptist emphasized not just ethical behavior, but ethical use of what we have. Repentance is empty unless it involves those things near and dear to us, and our possessions often rank high in that list. To share our food, our clothing, to be honest and content with what we have -- this is a matter of faith. Those who think that religion has nothing to do with money and possessions are greatly deceived. We cannot separate our faith from our physical being without, in effect, chopping ourselves up. To be a complete and whole person before God is to integrate all that we have and are with our faith. This means being honest about how we make use of our possessions. Since giving lordship of our possessions to God is one of the hardest aspects of the life of faith, it is also thereby one of the greatest tests of faith. What we do with what we have is how we are before God.
Isaiah 12:2-6
The theme of joy is highlighted in this reading from the prophet Isaiah, which is why the text is frequently employed during Advent. The poet sings, "With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation" (v. 3) and "Shout aloud and sing for joy ... for great in your midst is the Holy One of Israel" (v. 6). The key to joy being those closing words in verse 6 in which the prophet celebrates the presence of God in the midst of the worshiping community.
Joy is different from happiness. Being happy has to do with circumstances. We are happy when life goes the way we want or expect it to go. We are happy when we get a raise or promotion. We are happy when the diagnostic test for cancer comes back "negative."
We are unhappy when we get "downsized." We are unhappy when a loved one dies. We are unhappy when the diagnostic test comes back "positive."
But joy is not tied to circumstances. Joy is tied to our awareness and participation in the presence of God. Joy is possible in both the happy and the unhappy moments of life. In fact, joy can be the undercurrent that sustains us in times of great distress and difficulty.
This peculiar aspect of joy can be seen in many areas of life, but perhaps nowhere clearer than at some funerals. The death of a loved one, no matter what age or circumstance, is never a happy occasion. However, there are instances in which the funeral of certain people, because of the character of their lives -- faith, service to others, longevity, creativity, and so on -- becomes both a time of mourning and celebration of a life well lived. The emotion that drives that celebration in the funeral setting is joy.
In the setting of Advent, our joy is in response to the fulfillment of a promise -- the promise of God to send the Messiah. Throughout Advent, as we have disciplined our worship with waiting, anticipating, and preparation, we are ready to engage in vibrant celebration of the gift of God's son. That calls for joy.
The fact that joy is possible regardless of circumstances becomes particularly important during the Advent season. Regardless of how hard we try or how hard we shop, sometimes happiness eludes us during this time of year. In fact, the season from Thanksgiving to Christmas is for many people one of the most difficult and even bleak times of the entire year. Psychologists call it seasonal depression.
Cultivating a sense of joy that is grounded not in personal circumstances but in faith and a sense of God's presence can provide a powerful remedy for this "seasonal depression." Not that we are able to manufacture happiness simply because it's Christmas; rather we are able to embrace a hope that is deeper and more profound than a mere holiday celebration. Out of this hope comes the possibility of joy.
In the Bible, we find the same certainty that there will be a last night. The question of how to spend it is answered quite differently. Rather than lament, Zephaniah tells us to rejoice. Rather than take out our anger on others, Paul tells us to be gentle. And rather than party, Luke tells us to repent.
Zephaniah 3:14-20
The closing of the book of Zephaniah presents a view of the last night that differs from that found in the rest of the book. In chapters 1 and 2 of Zephaniah, the Day of the Lord is when God sweeps everything away from the face of the earth (Zephaniah 1:2). Not only is there judgment against the nations, but there is judgment against Jerusalem and its corrupt leaders. The famous Dies Irae passage (1:14-16) promises "a day of wrath, a day of distress and anguish, a day of ruin and anguish, a day of ruin and devastation, a day of clouds and thick darkness" (1:15). God will come as a mighty warrior with "trumpet blast and battle cry against the fortified cities and against the lofty battlements" (1:16). Even in the beginning of chapter 3, the divine warrior language continues; God declares war on the earth, and it will not be pretty, "for in the fire of my passion all the earth shall be consumed" (3:8). But in 3:14-20, the last words of the book, the tone changes dramatically (this is one reason that many commentators think this section of Zephaniah is a later addition, reflecting an exilic or post-exilic setting).
Surprisingly, the divine warrior language continues in 3:14-20, but with a twist: now God is fighting for rather than against Israel. Heralds cry with news of God's victory: "Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem!" (3:14). Jerusalem is to fear no enemy (3:16), for "The Lord, your God, is in your midst, a warrior who gives victory" (3:17). Far from declaring war against the city (3:8), God now fights all foes on its behalf. God's protection is strong: "I will remove disaster from you, so that you will not bear reproach for it. I will deal with all your oppressors at that time" (3:18-19). For Zion, the Day of the Lord is not the end of the world -- far from it.
Mixed with this military language are more tender, priestly words. God speaks tenderly of Jerusalem as to a "daughter" (3:14). The people are exhorted not to fear, nor to quit their jobs in anticipation of the last night: "Do not let your hands grow weak" in despair, the prophet exhorts (3:16). As Israel was exhorted to rejoice, so God will return the favor: "He will rejoice over you with gladness, he will renew you in his love; he will exult over you with loud singing." God sings, as does Israel (3:14, 17). It is a day of festival (v. 18). Most importantly, God's action will remove the stain of shame that accompanied Israel's exile; in ancient Near Eastern societies, little was regarded more highly than one's personal and communal honor. God promises to restore honor to the people. "I will remove disaster from you, so that you will not bear reproach for it" (3:18). "At that time I will bring you home, at the time when I gather you; for I will make you renowned and praised among all the peoples of the earth, when I restore your fortunes before your eyes, says the Lord" (3:20). The exiles will be honored in the very places they had been shamefully exiled, for God "will change their shame into praise and renown in all the earth" (3:19).
Kingship language is also part of Zephaniah's closing section. God is not only warrior and high priest but "the king of Israel, the Lord" (3:15). In contrast to the corrupt leaders, priests and kings denounced in chapters 1-2, the Lord is the true king of this realm. The "oppressors" the divine warrior wards off include these arrogant local officials as well as foreigners; God the King takes their place (3:19). The prophet places the portrait of the royal God firmly in the tradition of Israel's shepherd-king (in the line of David) when he pictures the Lord gathering the lame and the outcast. The sheep have been scattered by enemies and predators, but the shepherd will bring them in, tend to their wounds, and restore their honor (3:19).
Coupled with the portrait of God as shepherd-king is language suggesting the courtroom. God offers legal immunity from further prosecution. The death sentence previously announced (3:8) has been commuted. "The Lord has taken away the judgments against you" (3:15). Where God had once borne witness and rendered a decision against Israel and the nations, in the last night God declares that the prophets will no longer issue oracles of "Woe!" (3:18; cf. 3:1). "He will renew you in his love" (3:17, following the LXX; the Hebrew reads, "He will be silent in his love," which doesn't make a whole lot of sense with all this singing and rejoicing going on!).
The last word of Zephaniah on the last night is that God has taken care of things for God's people, which is reason for celebration. Sing out!
Philippians 4:4-7
The theme of joy is continued in Paul's letter to the Philippians, often called the "epistle of joy." Even when discussing dissention within the community (Philippians 4:2-3), Paul can raise the cry, "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice" (4:4). Paul had plenty to rejoice about when writing the Philippians, since they had offered him "a fragrant offering, a sacrifice acceptable and pleasing to God" (4:18), that is, a substantial monetary gift in support of his ministry. The letter to the Philippians is in fact a letter of friendship designed to thank that church appropriately for their gift. The Christians at Philippi had heard of Paul's imprisonment (1:30) and responded with prayers (1:19) and gifts (4:17-18). Epaphroditus delivered these gifts to Paul (2:25; 4:18), but then became ill (2:26-27); upon his recovery he was sent back to Philippi with this letter of thanks (2:25, 28).
But Paul's exhortation to rejoice is not based primarily on the gift received, let alone any natural cheeriness. If anything, his circumstances in prison were dire. Paul carries his joy with him, in the person of the risen Lord. "Rejoice in the Lord" is his cry. "In the Lord" is not a pious addendum but the living source of joy. Rather than a simple encouragement, "Everything will be all right," Paul offers the assurance of faith. Because the living Jesus is with him, he can rejoice, no matter what the circumstances. The Philippians too can share the joy of resurrection.
The section of the letter just before the explicit offer of thanks (4:10-20), is a grab bag of loosely connected exhortations. Over these various commandments stands a theological conviction: "The Lord is near" (4:5). Paul may be alluding to Psalm 145:18, but he also reflects the prayer of his community that was summed up in the Aramaic phrase Marana tha, "May the Lord come!" (1 Corinthians 16:22; cf. Philippians 1:21-23; 3:20).
In light of the Lord's immanence, Paul has explicit instructions to the community: they are to think like Jesus (2:1-11; cf. 4:8-9). Paul's motto was not "What would Jesus do?" but "What would Jesus think?" Christians are to take on the "mind of Christ" (2:5; cf. 1 Corinthians 2:16). Crucial to that Christ-like mind was the virtue of "gentleness." The word Paul uses has a range of meanings that includes generosity, magnanimity, consideration of others, fair-mindedness, graciousness, and forbearance. Such "gentleness" he explicitly attributed to Christ (2 Corinthians 10:1). Paul's concern was for Christian honor in the larger community; such gentleness was to be on display "to everyone." Ideally, all nations could look to believers to see reflected the mind of their Lord.
Added to this gentleness was to be faithful trust in God's providence. "Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God" (Philippians 4:6). Anxiety over mundane needs was to be considered the very opposite of faith, in the words of Oswald Chambers, an "unconscious blasphemy." Here Paul reflects the teaching of Jesus himself (Matthew 6:25-34). He also speaks from the heart, since he was writing from a precarious situation, where his future was anything but certain -- imprisoned, he faced deprivation of life itself (cf. Philippians 1:12-26). He lived as he spoke, rejoicing in even the direst circumstances, and trusting God to provide his every need (1:18-19).
This trust Paul found in kneeling before God. "In everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God" (4:6). Paul gives us a mini-thesaurus of the early Christian language for prayer. He uses a general word for "prayer" as well as one that denotes petitions for what we desire or need, "supplications." "Requests" refers to specific acts of supplication or petition. "Thanksgiving" is the necessary attitude in which prayer and supplication is made; for Paul, it is the attitude endemic to the Christian life (1 Thessalonians 5:18). Prayer is not only the cure for anxiety, but the guarantor that "the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 4:7). Paul uses a military metaphor to make a very un-warlike promise of shalom: God's peace, something that is part of God's very nature and transcends human understanding or ability (4:9), will "stand sentry" over hearts and minds that think like Jesus.
Luke 3:7-18
John the Baptist brings yet a third view of the last night, and while it is less pretty than the other two, it is no less hopeful. Like the opening chapters of Zephaniah, John expects danger in that last night. He is somewhat uncomplimentary to the crowds that come out to be baptized by him: "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?" (Luke 3:7). John's vision of the end is filled with fire and judgment, and he pictures humanity as snakes slithering away from the conflagration. There is hope, however, for those who heed his message. "Bear fruits worthy of repentance" John tells them (3:8).
Luke deliberately places John within the framework of history, secular and biblical. An elaborate chronological formula pinpoints the time that word of God came to this prophet (3:1-2). John himself fulfills the prophecies spoken of him (1:13-17, 76-77). Carefully drawn contrasts between John and Jesus confirm that he is the one who "will go before the Lord to prepare his ways" (1:76), since the Stronger One (ho ischyroteros, 3:16), whose sandals John is not worthy to untie, is on the way.
John's predictions for this Stronger One reflect the seriousness of the situation. John deals in water; the Stronger One deals in the Holy Spirit and fire (v. 16; for Luke, the quite literal fulfillment of this prophecy will be found in his second volume, Acts 2:1-4). The Messiah will be like a farmer cleaning up after a long harvest, standing on the threshing floor with a winnowing fork in hand, gathering the wheat into the silo, but tossing the chaff into the air so that it can be collected for the fire (Luke 3:17).
Escape from this fiery finish cannot be inherited. The people of God cannot count on mere biological descent for their future: "Do not begin 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" (3:8; thus Luke foreshadows the Gentile mission). In another agricultural image, John describes the farmer Messiah placing the ax at the root of the trees, in order to chop down those that do not produce the "fruits of repentance" and are worthy only of the fire (3:9; cf. 13:6-9). That the danger was imminent is clear from John's words, "Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees" (3:9).
In a section unique to Luke, John gets specific about what the "fruits of repentance" might look like. In general, John advocates selfless care for others. In specific, John addresses three groups. To the crowds he preaches sharing: "Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise" (3:11). To tax collectors (probably independent subcontractors of indirect taxes -- tariffs, tolls, and customs) he preaches honesty: "Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you" (3:13). To soldiers (perhaps mercenaries enlisted in the service of Antipas, the Jewish tetrarch of Galilee and Perea) he preaches the responsible use of power: "Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages" (3:14; the verb Luke uses, "extort," means literally "shake down," and was probably originally suggested by the image of thieves shaking fig trees to steal the fruit). John preaches the spirituality of money and possessions; there is nothing that we have that we cannot share, and nothing that we can gain by dishonest means that is worth having. Our use of our possessions is an indication of the state of our hearts before God.
John's ethical instruction is rooted in his eschatological conviction; like Paul and Zephaniah, he expected the Lord to come soon. For Luke, his message can be described as "good news," despite the prophet's rough edges: "So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people" (3:18). This may seem ironic, given John's references to vipers, axes, and fire, but the message is literally good news to those who would perish without it. Those who heed John's message, who accept the baptism for the repentance of sins, and who live out the new life they have been called to, can look with eagerness to the coming of the Stronger One with the Holy Spirit and fire. In Luke's view, such spiritual fire will serve to further God's purpose (Acts 2:1-4). Unfortunately, not all who hear the message will heed it; Herod Antipas stands as a symbol for all those who oppose God's prophets when he jails John simply for speaking the truth (Luke 3:19-20).
Application
Flaming eschatology can be a hard sell these days. The smoking furnace of Zephaniah's Dies Irae is one image, with our modern penchant for war, that is all too common; it hardly means the end of the world. Paul's gentle faith that "the Lord is near" has had nearly two thousand years to blunt the edge. John's picture of a farmer Messiah wielding winnowing fork and ax may seem simply quaint. The prophets have been around for so long, it is hard for some of us to take them seriously.
This is not to say that modern people cannot envision apocalypse. Film and fiction thrive on it, but it rears its head outside of novels. Our memories would indeed be short if we have forgotten the panic inspired by the prospect of Y2K computer failures. Anthrax mailings, mysterious snipers, and the ever-present threat of terrorism prompt similar feelings. On a more personal level, we are reminded daily by the obituary columns that while society may survive, we will survive with it for only a short time. On a larger scale, there is no doubt that some day, many years from now, our sun will run out of fuel, snuffing out whatever intelligent society on Earth that has not already snuffed itself out.
To this impending mortality -- whether personal, societal, or planetary -- the prophets speak. That they have been saying it for some time, and at least some of us are still paying attention, testifies to the long-term relevance of their message. Zephaniah reminds us that given what religious folk believe, mortality is not all that it's cut out to be; even the end of the world is not quite the end of the world, for those who believe in God. Rejoice and sing, says the prophet, for God is on your side. Similarly, Paul calls us to rejoice that the Lord is near, taking our anxieties about this life to the God of peace, who will distribute that peace back to us. Even the most pessimistic of the lot, John the Baptist, holds out hope for those who are willing to follow God's path.
Is the last night at hand? At one point or another, we will all face that question. The correct answer to the question is not determined by our calendars, but by our lives.
Alternate Applications
1) Zephaniah 3:14-20. The violence of prophetic God-language is balanced in Zephaniah by contrasting metaphors. Yes, God is the divine warrior, marching towards a final battle with evil. Yet the warrior God also is performing a defensive mission, protecting the lame and outcast, the remnant of righteous in Israel. The all-powerful king is also a shepherd who draws these downtrodden sheep home for special care. The supreme judge has taken away the writ of indictment against the people. The high priest has spoken tenderly to children who need fear no more, neither let their weary hands drop. God will rejoice over us, and renew us with love.
2) Philippians 4:4-7. Paul's approach to possessions is an antidote to shopping mall culture. In Paul's thinking, physical need is subservient to the need to keep one's eyes on the Lord. The anxiety induced by things -- I must have that, how could I ever have lived without it? -- can be overcome by the faith that God will provide for our needs. Faith is activated by prayer, which is the anti-anxiety elixir. Such prayer, such faith leads to God's peace, which will stand sentry against the greed and covetousness that seeks to infiltrate our hearts and minds.
3) Luke 3:7-18. Similarly, John the Baptist emphasized not just ethical behavior, but ethical use of what we have. Repentance is empty unless it involves those things near and dear to us, and our possessions often rank high in that list. To share our food, our clothing, to be honest and content with what we have -- this is a matter of faith. Those who think that religion has nothing to do with money and possessions are greatly deceived. We cannot separate our faith from our physical being without, in effect, chopping ourselves up. To be a complete and whole person before God is to integrate all that we have and are with our faith. This means being honest about how we make use of our possessions. Since giving lordship of our possessions to God is one of the hardest aspects of the life of faith, it is also thereby one of the greatest tests of faith. What we do with what we have is how we are before God.
Isaiah 12:2-6
The theme of joy is highlighted in this reading from the prophet Isaiah, which is why the text is frequently employed during Advent. The poet sings, "With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation" (v. 3) and "Shout aloud and sing for joy ... for great in your midst is the Holy One of Israel" (v. 6). The key to joy being those closing words in verse 6 in which the prophet celebrates the presence of God in the midst of the worshiping community.
Joy is different from happiness. Being happy has to do with circumstances. We are happy when life goes the way we want or expect it to go. We are happy when we get a raise or promotion. We are happy when the diagnostic test for cancer comes back "negative."
We are unhappy when we get "downsized." We are unhappy when a loved one dies. We are unhappy when the diagnostic test comes back "positive."
But joy is not tied to circumstances. Joy is tied to our awareness and participation in the presence of God. Joy is possible in both the happy and the unhappy moments of life. In fact, joy can be the undercurrent that sustains us in times of great distress and difficulty.
This peculiar aspect of joy can be seen in many areas of life, but perhaps nowhere clearer than at some funerals. The death of a loved one, no matter what age or circumstance, is never a happy occasion. However, there are instances in which the funeral of certain people, because of the character of their lives -- faith, service to others, longevity, creativity, and so on -- becomes both a time of mourning and celebration of a life well lived. The emotion that drives that celebration in the funeral setting is joy.
In the setting of Advent, our joy is in response to the fulfillment of a promise -- the promise of God to send the Messiah. Throughout Advent, as we have disciplined our worship with waiting, anticipating, and preparation, we are ready to engage in vibrant celebration of the gift of God's son. That calls for joy.
The fact that joy is possible regardless of circumstances becomes particularly important during the Advent season. Regardless of how hard we try or how hard we shop, sometimes happiness eludes us during this time of year. In fact, the season from Thanksgiving to Christmas is for many people one of the most difficult and even bleak times of the entire year. Psychologists call it seasonal depression.
Cultivating a sense of joy that is grounded not in personal circumstances but in faith and a sense of God's presence can provide a powerful remedy for this "seasonal depression." Not that we are able to manufacture happiness simply because it's Christmas; rather we are able to embrace a hope that is deeper and more profound than a mere holiday celebration. Out of this hope comes the possibility of joy.
