Zephaniah 3:14-20 Commentary

A Pastoral Word:

The Christmas season can be difficult for those grieving, lonely, struggling financially.  In fact, any time of year is difficult for those in distress.  But the particular difficulty of Christmas is the temptation to throw tinsel and lights on the outside without attending to the realities on the inside.  For this reason, many churches have started offering Blue Christmas, Longest Night or Christmas Mourning services for those who aren’t feeling the “holly jolly” this year.  Although this Sunday is, according to the traditional Advent candle lighting liturgy, set aside to focus on “joy,” this commentary is geared toward the digging deep kind of joy for those who have had a difficult year.  And, pastors, I’m aware that might include you.  So my sermon commentary this week is taken from a homily I preached about 6 years ago, in hopes that it may minister to you, even if you may use it as fodder to minister to others. Thank you for all the extra work you do during this season of church work: the additional services and extra visits.  May you also know the joy of a God singing over you.

Commentary:

This year, we journey through the four weeks of Advent leading toward Christmas in the company of the minor prophets. Minor is simply a designation we give to prophets who fall under a certain word-count as opposed to their more verbose, wordy colleagues like Isaiah and Jeremiah. But, like their colleagues, these minor prophets engage the same task — urging God’s people to be ready for the arrival of the Messiah. Prophecies that continue to spur us on as Christians to be ready, looking through the events of Christ born in a manger in order to prepare for the arrival of Christ coming to reign as King, the longing for and waiting for a Kingdom of hope, peace, joy and love.

This morning’s text focuses on the third attribute: joy. But I’m not so naive as to think that, just because the candles tell us it’s time to feel joy, that we do.  Just because the Christmas season dictates “holly jolly,” our vibe might be something different at the moment.  Reflecting on the year that is coming to a close or anticipating what is to come.  I’m mindful that, for some, joy is obvious and easy to find. In fact, some of us come to worship happy, content and ready to rejoice. We will rejoice with those who rejoice. And some are here this morning sorrowing, weary, with tears close to the surface. We will weep with those who weep.

And the tension of these two — joy and weeping — may occur in closer proximity to one another than we allow, even — or especially — at the holidays. Even when joy is playing in a minor key, the melody is hope in the Psalmist’s proclamation that “weeping may last through the night, but joy comes in the morning.”

In fact, this is the whole message of the Advent season. “Though weeping may last through the night, joy comes in the morning.” According to pastoral theologian Fleming Rutledge, “In a very deep sense, the entire Christian life in this world is lived in Advent, between the first and second comings of the Lord, in the midst of the tension between things the way they are and things the way they ought to be…To be a Christian is to live every day of our lives in solidarity with those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, but to live in the unshakable hope of those who expect the dawn.”

The unshakable hope of those who expect the dawn is reflected in the prophecy of Zephaniah.  Not that God has *already* inaugurated the new creation.  Or that God has *already* overturned political or economic oppression.  Or that God has *already* restored God’s people in God’s own presence.

But that God will dwell with us.

God will save us.

God will delight in us.

God will sing over us.

The unshakable image I have here is of God’s people wailing in fear in the middle of the night, only to find themselves scooped up in God’s arms, doing that instinctual sway we all do with fussy, fearful babies. God whispering a song in our ear. The resonant rumble of God’s voice, as our ear is pressed against God’s chest and our head grows heavy on God’s shoulder.

God will sing over us.

God will remove our guilt.

God will remove our grief.

God will remove the oppressor.

God will rescue the weak.

God will gather the exile.

God will reverse our shame.

God will. And so we live as those who are held by “the unshakable hope of those who expect the dawn.”

Of course, when joy is the topic of the morning with Christmas so nearly on the horizon, we are likely to think of that fan-favorite carol: Joy to the World. Although it is interesting to note that Joy to the World wasn’t written to be a Christmas song. You won’t find a baby anywhere in it. Don’t let lyrics like “The Lord is come” fool you. There aren’t necessarily shepherds watching their flocks by night in those “fields and floods, rocks, hills and plains.”

Isaac Watts wrote the lyrics to be sung any time of year. The lyrics are a paraphrase of Psalm 98, a song used to orient God’s people to the arrival of the Messiah in glory to set all things right. In the same way, Joy to the World is written to train our hopes for a kingdom that has not yet arrived.

Training our hopes for a Kingdom of resurrection and reunion,

of redemption and reconciliation.

Training our hopes for a Kingdom in which everything that is broken will be mended,

every enemy turned back at the gates in decisive victory,

every oppression, punishment, prejudice overruled.

Training our hopes for a Kingdom foretold by the prophet Zephaniah:

At that time I will gather you;

    at that time I will bring you home.

I will give you honor and praise

    among all the peoples of the earth

when I restore your fortunes

    before your very eyes,”

says the Lord.