Advent in the Ashes: Ezra 1:1-4; 3:1-4, 10-13 - Third Sunday of Advent

We’d just moved back onto campus for our final year of seminary when we received some sad news about a former classmate: lightning had struck her church, and the fire burned the building to the ground. Miraculously, no one was hurt, especially given the fact that a daycare center operated within the church.

The campus pastor organized a carpool so that we could attend a prayer vigil being held that evening in the parking lot of the burned-out church, located just outside of Harrisburg. When we arrived, firefighters were still dousing the smoldering timbers. An excavator had been hired to demolish what was left of the building to prevent further flare-ups.

Photo by Patrick Hendry on Unsplash

All the while, hundreds of people stood by, staring helplessly at the ruins. Then, it began to rain. Fortunately, the fire department invited everyone to gather for the vigil inside their social hall. The large space was absolutely packed. And there, we sang hymns, listened to Scripture, and celebrated Holy Communion. Stories were shared of the bravery and selflessness of the day care workers and emergency responders. Church members and neighbors spoke of how much the church meant to them and how badly they wanted to see it rebuilt. 

One of the speakers said, “it would be nice if we could worship like this every Sunday!”

They’d probably have been the largest church in town if that were the case.

It begs the question: why did the church building need to burn down for so many people to care about it?

There are few things more difficult than walking into a church for the first time as a stranger, unsure of what to expect. But that night was different. Nobody was a stranger because that fire touched all of their lives in some way.

I also think the community needed to celebrate the selflessness and bravery of their neighbors, and give thanks that the only loss was a building which can be replaced.

Lastly, people came there hungry for resurrection, hoping to see this congregation rise from of the ashes and rebuild.

Today’s Old Testament reading tells a similar story. Fifty years prior, the armies of Babylon conquered the Southern Kingdom of divided Israel. In the process, they destroyed the city of Jerusalem, including the temple. All but a few people had been taken into exile. But Babylon had just been conquered by the Persians, and their King Cyrus permitted the exiles to return and rebuild Jerusalem.

Click here to read the Scripture text

As you might imagine, this was something that no one (except for the prophets) saw coming. But this was hardly a return to normal. The city was in ruins. And the prophets made it very clear that this was God’s punishment for having abandoned God’s Law and worshiping idols.

Today, we find God’s people gathering for worship amid the ruins of the former temple. They are celebrating Feast of Booths, which had not been done consistently for centuries. I daresay that there were more people worshipping now in the rubble than when the temple had been standing. As the foundation stones of a new temple are laid, the people weep loudly, though none could distinguish the cries of grief from the cries of joy.

How sad it is that it took a devastating exile and conquest to get God’s people back to worship. But that’s just how it is in life: you don’t know what you have until you don’t have it anymore. Though we abandon God, God never abandons us. But we lose so much when turn to other gods and other pursuits to satisfy our deepest longings, and there is no time of year when we do this more than at Christmas.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas. But Christmas in 21^st century America has very little to do with Jesus, and far more to do with consumerism and stressing ourselves out in hopes that our celebrations will live up to what you see on the Hallmark Channel.

But what if all that’s out of reach for you? What if you lack the means to shop ‘till you drop? What if you’re grieving loved ones? What if everyone else’s supposed jubilation makes you feel worse?

I have news for you: the gift of Jesus is going to mean a lot more to you than it will to those who have more than enough to make the season bright.

The reason why we celebrate Advent instead of rushing ahead to Christmas is so that we can come to grips with the emptiness and ruin which exists in our lives and our world apart from Jesus Christ. There’s no point celebrating Jesus if you have no appreciation for how much you need him.

And Jesus comes to us, not in the goods of this world of plenty, but in the brokenness and ruin that afflict us. It’s in the ashes that God gives new birth. It is in the dark of night that light shines. It is when we have nothing else to cling to that we find in Jesus everything we need.

The fact that our Savior is worshiped in a manger rather than a temple goes to show you what kind of Savior he is: a Savior born into your brokenness.

But he is also the neighbor who’s hungry, lonely, sick, and dying. You can make Christmas happen for them just by showing up, doing what is in your power to do, giving of what you have in abundance.

So, if this Christmas is full of wonder and joy, praise God! Be thankful. But if it’s not, take heart. It is in brokenness that you become the person God created you to be. When you can’t face the future because your life is in ruins, Jesus makes a new beginning. Out of death he makes resurrection. He turns your tears of sadness and shame into tears of joy.

Blessed be the brokenness where Jesus shows up. Blessed be the ashes where Advent arises.