Hope Is a Promise

Consensus Volume 46 Issue 1 Faith Communities: A Wider Expression Article 7 1-25-2025 Hope Is a Promise Devan Munn Follow this and additional works at: https://scholars.wlu.ca/consensus Part of the Practical Theology Commons Recommended Citation Munn, Devan (2025) "Hope Is a Promise," Consensus: Vol. 46: Iss. 1, Article 7. DOI: 10.51644/REOQ9719 Available at: https://scholars.wlu.ca/consensus/vol46/iss1/7 This Sermons is brought to you for free and open access by Scholars Commons @ Laurier. It has been accepted for inclusion in Consensus by an authorized editor of Scholars Commons @ Laurier. For more information, please contact . Munn: Hope Is a Promise Hope Is a Promise1 Devan Munn Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of all of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. I n our Canticle this morning—the Song of Zechariah—we are assured that because of God’s tender mercy, “the dawn from on high will break upon us to shine on those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, and to guide our feet in the way of peace” (John 1:78-79 NRSV). Zechariah’s Song tells us of God’s promise that John the Baptist will be the final prophet of Israel who will go forth and prepare the way for Jesus’ public ministry. Zechariah has just had his mouth unsealed because he has obeyed God’s command to name the boy John. This after a barren Elizabeth conceives in her old age—a hope Zechariah had abandoned long ago. Now Zechariah and Elizabeth’s boy would be the final prophet before the new covenant, a prophet who would go and “prepare the way of the Lord.” Zechariah had seen hope and could do nothing else but praise God in song. Zechariah had hope because God had revealed it to him directly in the form of his Son, and whose ministry he would usher in. After reading this account, I wonder what emotions Zechariah might have felt. Certainly, he experienced the joy that comes with a newborn child—one he had lost hope of ever having. He certainly felt hope that the messianic expectations of Israel would come true. But, no doubt, Zechariah also felt a deep sense of trepidation and foreboding watching his son grow, knowing the task before him would put him face to face with the most dangerous power on earth, the Roman Empire. He probably also experienced some perplexity at his son's wilderness isolation and zealous teachings. We may also be experiencing a range of emotions this Advent season—only a few that feel like hopefulness. There are many cares that weigh down our hearts and minds this season: Worries about our own and our family's health. Financial stressors that are made worse by holiday shopping demands. Darkening days and darkening moods. A generation that can’t afford housing or the stuff of life. Wars and rumours of wars surround us all day on the news. There is also that lingering feeling of unease that has persisted since COVID, a breakdown in trust and a rise in anger throughout our society. To be sure, there is no shortage of things that weigh us down in this season and lead to hopelessness and despair. Yet so much of the message of Advent and the more secular ‘Christmas season’ revolves around messages of hope. It is a discombobulating experience to speak of hope in what is, for many, a very dark time. To be asked to hold onto hope can seem like an impossible task. It can create a dissonance for us as people of faith to go through Advent being asked to hold onto anticipation and hope when everything feels bleak. But I wonder if we can remember Zechariah in this season—his hope was not based on a sentiment or even the knowledge that things would be immediately set right. Remember, his son's head was delivered to Herod on a silver platter! Zechariah’s hope was not based on a feeling of hopefulness in an emotional or sentimental sense. His hope was based on a 1 This sermon delivered by Devan Munn on December 8, 2024 (Advent 2), Holy Trinity Anglican Church, Kitchener, ON. Published by Scholars Commons @ Laurier, 2025 1 Consensus, Vol. 46, Iss. 1 [2025], Art. 7 promise. A promise that his son would emerge from the wilderness to prepare the way of the Lord. The hope that Israel’s messiah would come and set things right. He seized hope in the form of a promise from God. At that moment when his mouth became unsealed and Zechariah sang his canticle, time became thick and still, and he was able to seize at ultimate hope. In some ways Zechariah was lucky; for most of us the Angel Gabriel doesn’t do cameo appearances. But Advent is when we get to enter a sacred time that has become thick with anticipation for the coming of the Lord. It is the time where the nativity meets the eschaton and our promise, and great hope that all things will be restored in Christ becomes so vivid we can almost see it. It is a time to trust our hope even when we aren’t feeling particularly hopeful. The remarkable thing about hope is that it doesn’t depend on our feelings, current situation, or world events; rather, it depends on the promise made by God in Jesus Christ which was announced by John the Baptist. Jesus, Hope embodied, is the one for whom John comes to prepare a way in the ancient words of the prophet Isaiah. It is this man, the boy child from Bethlehem, for who John had been waiting in prayer and fasting in the wilderness to usher onto the scene. Jesus is the hope of Israel’s renewal and the hope for the redemption of the world. Luke is at pains to tell us in today’s Gospel that John’s proclamation happens in the “fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Ceasar” placing this account at roughly AD 28 or 29. He tells us not only who the emperor is, but also that Pontius Pilate was Governor of Judea and Herod ruler of Galilee, and that Caiaphas was the high priest. Luke is trying to tell us something important by giving us the historical particulars in his Gospel. That all of the hope being ushered in is occurring within a concrete historical reality. But not just any historical reality—a history taking place under the imperial brutality of the Roman Empire. If we look at the names of the leaders given to us by Luke, they too have significance in the narrative. Herod would be the one to execute John and have his head served on a platter, and Pilate and Caiaphas would ensure Jesus went to the cross. The Roman Empire ruled through exploitation and military might. It was an incredibly oppressive empire in taxation and even more oppressive in their methods of enforcing punishment—often in the form of crucifixion. Yet, this is the very moment when God chooses Hope embodied, Jesus Christ, to begin his public ministry. It is at this moment that He chooses to enter the particularity of history to make it universal. Luke is desperate for us to know that God is a God who cares about the particulars and chooses history as a means of redemption. He cares about them because he will make these particulars universal in the one for whom John the Baptist prep (...truncated)