Sermon: Ad Te Levavi (Advent 1) - 2019

1 December 2019

Text: Matt 21:1-9

In the name of + Jesus.  Amen.

Now that we have been hearing Christmas music in the stores for more than a month, we now begin our Advent journey.  Advent is a time of expectation – not merely waiting for the 25^th of December, but waiting for Christ’s return, waiting for the end of this age and the life of the world to come.  And we wait for His return by reflecting upon His first coming, His first Advent, even as we count down to Christmas Day, the Feast of the Incarnation of our Lord. 

The world has a message for us at this time of year, dear friends.  The world has skipped Advent – because who wants to wait?  For we are consumers.  We want what we want and we want it now.  And so the world is in full-on Christmas mode.  Our friends at Amazon and Walmart and Target and Ebay have a Christmas message for us: buy stuff, and lots of it!  You can get anything with a swipe of a card or a wave of a chip.  Our merchandisers – who want you to feel loved by them – want us to covet and fix our eyes on stuff.  The more the better.  They want you to believe that money buys happiness.

But the Church’s Christmas message to the world is entirely different.  We have nothing for you to buy.  We have nothing for sale.  What we offer is entirely free, and yet not even all the money of the richest man in the world – the guy who owns Amazon – could ever afford what we offer.  It is not for sale at any price.  For we offer the salvation won for us at the cross of Jesus, and it is delivered to you not by a delivery truck or an experimental drone – but in a chalice.  We have the blood of Christ, we have His body, we have His pledge of everlasting life.  We have the Gospel.  And it is worth more than Mr. Bezos’s fortune multiplied by a trillion.  And yet, dear friends, it is free. 

In this first Sunday of Advent, we reflect upon our Lord’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem.  This seems a strange thing to reflect upon given the time of year.  Instead of Jesus in the manger, we are reflecting on a passage that will bring Jesus to the cross.  For the cross is the completion of the manger.  His death is why He was born.  This is what we really mean by talking about the “reason for the season.”  Jesus has taken on flesh, to offer His flesh, all to redeem our flesh, so that we too may rise in the flesh.  This is what the Word “Emmanuel” means: “God with us” – with us in the flesh.

And while the music of our season sweetly proclaims the Boy King, we must remember that this King doesn’t enrich Himself like a Caesar or a CEO, but rather empties Himself like a servant.  He is not crowned by gold, but rather by thorns.  He does not sit upon a throne, but rather hangs upon the cross.  He is not transported into His Royal City pulled in a magnificent chariot, but rather “humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a beast of burden.”  And His march to the cross will be even more humble, dear friends.

Our King doesn’t flaunt his wealth – even though He owns all things.  Rather He comes to us in humility, even humiliation – willing to be put to death on a cross.  For unlike the corporations from whom we buy our Christmas gifts, Jesus actually does love us.  All that He has, He shares with us without price.  No swipe of the card; no wave of a chip.  We come to this church and to this communion rail as beggars – with empty hands and open mouths.  We have nothing to offer.  We do not leave with a bill and some bling, but rather with the antidote to death without price.  We depart the communion rail free and unburdened.  We do not walk out of this sanctuary in debt, but rather with our debts forgiven.  For we do not buy gifts here, but we are the recipients of the greatest gift of all.  

Jesus, our Boy King whom we will in a few weeks call to mind lying in a manger, is our Savior.  He is King of kings and Lord of lords.  He was indeed welcomed into the Royal City of King David, His royal father according to the flesh.  He came into the city riding a donkey, as did David’s immediate son King Solomon.  And along with those adoring crowds who knew they were welcoming their King, we too sing with them: “Hosanna to the Son of David.  Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!  Hosanna in the highest!”

And in the manner of people who live in monarchies crying out “God save the King!” – we sing “Hosanna!”  And this word “Hosanna” means “save.”  But we are not calling for the King’s salvation, rather we are confessing and celebrating the King’s salvation of us!  “Hosanna, King Jesus, Son of David, Save us!” we sing.  

We reflect on His first coming to us: as a baby in Bethlehem, as a triumphantly entering King in Jerusalem, as a crucified sacrificial Lamb outside the gate of the city, and as our Risen Lord who has conquered death in the empty Easter tomb in the garden.

All of this is rolled together for our consideration, dear friends.  For He was born that He might die.  He died that we might live.  And He rose again that we too might join Him in eternal life.  And the riches He bestows upon us are immeasurable, and yet free.

And so we welcome our King.  We sing “Hosanna.”  We pray for mercy from the Son of David.  We rejoice in His coming.  We anxiously await His return.  We receive Him in Word and Sacrament.  We anticipate His Advent even as did those in days of old who saw Him at the manger, the cross, and the tomb.  

We see Him in His body and blood.  We hear Him in His Word.  We receive His gifts according to His promise.  And we continue to wait in expectation for His return, not according to the world’s calendar, but rather according to His Father’s will.  We wait for that time when we too will wave our palms and sing not just once a week, not just once a year, but for all eternity: “Hosanna to the Son of David!  Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!  Hosanna in the Highest!” 

Amen.

In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.