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Advent Series: Judgment

Peter Schellhase • Dec 04, 2022

The Second part in an Advent series on the “Four Last Things”

The story is told of St. Boniface, the English monk who became a missionary to Europe, that he struggled to convert the Germanic tribesmen from their worship of the old gods to the worship of the one true Lord Jesus Christ. One day around the winter solstice he and his band of monks came upon an ancient oak tree, dedicated to the god Thor. A crowd was gathered to observe a human sacrifice. The priest of Thor raised a heavy wooden mallet above a bound victim. Suddenly Boniface stepped forward, interrupting the ceremony. “The Cross of Christ shall break the hammer of the false god Thor, he said, and, taking an ax, began to strike the massive tree. The bemused Germans watched this monk trying to chop down this huge tree with an ax, but, as the story comes down to us, he had cut no more than a notch in it when the whole tree trembled, swayed, and crashed to the ground, breaking into four parts.


As the crowd stood stunned, their sacred shrine destroyed, Boniface spied a small evergreen sapling growing up among the roots of Thor’s oak. Boniface seized on it as a timely sermon illustration. Look, he said to the stunned crowd, “This little tree, a young child of the forest, shall be your holy tree tonight. It is the wood of peace . . . It is the sign of an endless life, for its leaves are ever green. See how it points upward to heaven. Let this be called the tree of the Christ-child; gather about it, not in the wild wood, but in your own homes; there it will shelter no deeds of blood, but loving gifts and rites of kindness.” The wood of the oak tree was used to build a church in that place.


So if anyone try to tell you the Christmas tree is a pagan symbol, you remember about St. Boniface and his ax!


This story reflects two important themes for us to meditate on in this season of Advent; first of all the judgment of God, expressed in the overthrow of false religions, their idols and evil practices; second the profound mercy of God expressed even in the midst of that judgment, calling all people and redeeming them for himself; giving them a kinder and better hope than their idols could possibly provide.


Scripture is full of such examples, and indeed our Scripture lessons today are also full of axes and stumps—the icons of judgment—as well as the hope of redemption and new growth through the Messiah, Jesus Christ.


In the verses immediately preceding this morning’s lesson from Isaiah, the prophet portrays the judgment of God as of a woodcutter with his ax:


Behold, the Lord, the Lord of hosts
will lop the boughs with terrifying power;
the great in height will be hewn down,
and the lofty will be brought low.
He will cut down the thickets of the forest with an axe,
and Lebanon with its majestic trees will fall.


This is, figuratively, a campaign of deforestation; not selective removal and woodlot management, but clear-cutting, complete devastation.


When I was in seminary, I did a paper on the book of Second Chronicles in the Old Testament. The book concludes with a census of those who returned to Jerusalem from the Babylonian captivity. Notably absent from this census is any mention of Israel’s royal family, the house of David. The tree of Jesse appears to have been felled and Israel is now subject to foreign rule.

But in Isaiah, written well in advance of these historical events, God promises renewal. In the fallen ruins of once-proud empires a young tree, a shoot, emerges from the stump of Jesse, the royal family of Israel. Chosen by God, this branch will put not only Israel but the whole world to rights.


Two of the gospels—Matthew and Luke—offer genealogies of Jesus, showing that he is indeed descended, albeit obscurely, from the royal family of David. Isaiah’s prophecy is fulfilled.


Jesus’s cousin John the Baptist warned the people of this impending visitation of God.


A colleague pointed out to me that this passage is a kind of re-founding, a re-consecration of Israel. Israel has gotten so far from where they started that they need a reset. And so it’s no accident that John is preaching and baptizing at the Jordan river. He is calling the people of Israel to return to the place where Joshua first crossed the Jordan. They must re-enter God’s kingdom, as if for the first time, by passing through these waters.


But there are two kinds of people who are coming out to hear John the Baptist. First, it says that “all Jerusalem and Judea” was going out to hear his preaching and be baptized in the Jordan, repenting of their sins. It was a significant movement.


But another group of people also come out, the Pharisees and Saducees. The Pharisees were the teachers of the Law, while the Saducees were the Temple party. In terms of today’s religious groups these would be the Presbyterians and Episcopalians, respectively. But John the Baptist is not enthused that these upstanding men of religion have come out to listen to him and get baptized. Instead of congratulating them for seeing the light, he unloads both barrels of a blistering warning of judgment.

You nest of venomous snakes! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? And then he comes to the point: “Do not think to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father’.”


Being children of Abraham is not enough. Judgment is coming. “The ax is laid to the root of the tree” just like in Isaiah. “Any tree that does not bear good fruit will be cut down and cast into the fire.” These parties in religion think that a right relationship with God is mediated through either the law or the practice of the temple religion. They’re not gonna make it. The law, and the Temple, are God’s gracious gifts. But they are about to pass away. One greater than Moses is here. By refusing to recognize the Messiah when he comes, and placing their hope in their own observances, the Pharisees and Saducees are no better off than those pagans practicing evil rites around the oak of Thor.


John’s critique is harsh and his warning ought to make the hair stand on end. God’s judgment may seem threatening. But it’s more than that.


A cliched line of television dialogue has something to teach us here. Two characters are in the heat of an argument. Is that a threat? one man asks. No, the other responds, it’s a promise. In other words, he’s gonna back his words with action.

God’s judgment isn’t just a threat he holds over the world to make us behave ourselves. It’s his promise to make things right at last, in a way that we never could.


Later Jesus himself appears to be baptized. Jesus himself has no sin to repent of. He is not under judgment—he is the judge. The cross tells us that Jesus was judged for us. His righteousness makes us righteous; his justice justifies us.


Jesus fulfilled in himself, vicariously, everything, the law, the sacrifices, the threats and the promises of the prophets, the whole identity and calling of Israel. So this is not just good news for those who are “children of Abraham.” It’s for the whole world. The apostle Paul, who began his career in religion as a Pharisee, put it like this:


“I tell you that Christ has become a servant of the circumcised on behalf of the truth of God in order that he might confirm the promises given to the patriarchs, and in order that the Gentiles might glorify God for his mercy.”


With that, let us pray.


Merciful God, who sent your messengers the prophets to preach repentance and prepare the way for our salvation: Give us grace to heed their warnings and forsake our sins, that we may greet with joy the coming of Jesus Christ our Redeemer; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

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“Again the Lord spoke to Ahaz, saying, ‘Ask a sign of the LORD your God; let it be as deep as hell, or high as heaven.’ But Ahaz said, ‘I will not ask, and I will not put the LORD to the test.’” In those days the southern kingdom of Judah was besieged: the northern kingdom of Israel was in league with the Assyrian king, and their joint forces had reached the gates of Jerusalem. The prophet Isaiah had gone to Ahaz, king of Judah, with God’s reassurance that he was not idle in Judah’s defense; that the enemies of Jerusalem would not prevail and would themselves be judged, cast down. Ahaz, as we see, was unwilling to take God at his word; to ask a sign, any sign, that he would deliver them. Why? Ahaz phrases his refusal in what may sound like pious terms. After all, in Deuteronomy 6, Moses warns, “Do not put the LORD your God to the test, as you did at Massah,” referring to a memorable episode of unbelief during Israel’s wandering in the desert. Jesus himself quotes this injunction when he is tempted by the devil. But Ahaz misinterpreted and misapplied it. He refused to ‘test’ God—yet not in faith. God invited him to ask for a sign, and put no boundaries on the sign. Ahaz was unmanned with fear because of the army outside the walls, but no longer believed in the power of God to save. His refusal was the counsel of despair. The Psalmist gives us another response in similar situations. He acknowledges the providence of God in the trials of his chosen people, yet calls on God for salvation. “You have made us the derision of our neighbors, and our enemies laugh us to scorn,” and yet, “Restore us, O LORD God of hosts; show us the light of your countenance, and we shall be saved.” The Psalmist waits and hopes for God to act. God offered Ahaz light and hope in the darkest hour, life snatched from the jaws of death. “Ask a sign of the LORD your God, be it as deep as hell, as high as heaven.” As it says elsewhere, God’s throne is in heaven, he beholds all the dwellers upon earth” (Ps. 11), and Isaiah later wrote, “Behold, the LORD’s hand is not shortened that it cannot save, nor his ear heavy that it cannot hear.” Not God’s inabilities, but your inquities, have made a separation between you and your God, and your sins have his his face from you, that he will not hear.” Ahaz, not God, was being tested, to see if he would turn to God in his time of need. In short, he failed the test. And yet, as Isaiah goes on to describe, God promises to accomplish a deliverance greater than Ahaz could imagine, with or without the king’s cooperation. “He saw that there was no man, and wondered that there was no one to intercede: then his own arm brought him salvation, and his righteousness upheld him.” “The LORD himself will give you a sign,” and this sign is both as high as heaven and as deep as hell, “for behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.” After all human strength, all human goodness, all human courage and hope have failed, God reveals his power paradoxically, in human weakness: a young woman and her infant Son: a son whose name, Immanuel, means “God with us,” and a woman who through her free act of faith and obedience becomes the Mother of God. This is a sign, and not only a symbol but a reality that encompasses everything. It means the salvation of the whole world—and salvation offered to each one of us—a sign that comes to us from highest heaven and fathoms even the depths of hell. So in these two individuals we have the two ways; the way of life and the way of death; the broad and easy way that leads to destruction and the narrow way that leads to salvation. The Blessed Virgin Mary is our preeminent icon of this way of life—“be it unto me according to thy word”—and Ahaz, not that Scripture lacks a sufficient number of such examples, reminds us today of the fate of those who refuse to put their hope in God. Ahaz misses out on much more than a way out of his present difficulty. He misses out on being a part of God’s plan of salvation. The Christian doctrine of hell, so much a part of Jesus’s own teaching, is not something we can set aside, even in the context of the universal and free offer of salvation in Jesus Christ. A great living theologian wrote this about it: “Christ . . . descends into hell and suffers . . . but he does not, for all that, treat man as an immature being deprived in the final analysis of any responsibility for his own destiny. Heaven reposes upon freedom, and so leaves to the damned the right to will their own damnation. The specificity of Christianity is shown in this conviction of the greatness of man. Human life is fully serious.” (J. Ratzinger, Eschatology, p. 216) Next Sunday is Christmas. It’s easy to forget, in all the sentimentality of the season, mangers and mistletoe, that we rejoice at Christmas because God has done something utterly serious, even catastrophic, for our sake. The world in its present form will not survive the impact of this salvation; our own lives, though we are saved, will be utterly changed. Come, Lord Jesus, and make perfect our will.
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