2 Advent, Year C 2024

Soli Deo gloria is a Latin term which translates to Glory to God alone. As a doctrine, it means that everything is done for God's glory to the exclusion of mankind's self-glorification and pride. We are to be motivated and inspired by God's glory and not our own. Where we continue to see this phrase used is in the arts. Johann Sebastian Bach wrote the initials “SDG” at the end of all of his church compositions and of many of his secular works. The practice was also kept by George Frederich Handel who, while not as prolific as Bach - it’s not really fair to compare anyone to Bach - wrote perhaps the most well-known Oratorio - the Messiah - Soli Deo gloria.

Handel composed the Messiah over the course of 18 days during the summer of 1741. Performing the entire work takes over 2 hours, so oftentimes groups perform an abbreviated version - that still runs almost 2 hours with intermission.  Every year, apart from formal performances, you can find Messiah sing-alongs during the time surrounding Christmas and Easter. The Messiah is an enduring work because of the ways in which both scripture and music speak to our souls. It’s hard for me to hear “wonderful, counselor, almighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace” and not also hear the music to which Handel set that text. There are several contributing factors to the Messiah’s earworm power: what an oratorio was at the time - in the 18th century, operas and oratorios were universally well-known, the brilliance of Handel in general as a composer, the beautiful writing of our sacred texts, and the power of song in general - to quote St Augustine (probably not, but it’s often attributed to him), “to sing is to pray twice”.

In today’s readings, we have five of the first six movements of the 52-movement Messiah. While the text of every part of the Messiah begins with Old Testament text, the first part focuses on Old Testament prophecies and the angels’ rejoicing. The first three movements are the words quoted from the prophet Isaiah in Luke’s Gospel today. After a one-movement break for Haggai, there are three movements to sing Malachi 3:1-3. Handel takes a page from Luke’s book by spending a great deal of time setting the birth of the Christ in the context of the one promised by Israel’s prophets.

Even though we technically only have four verses of Old Testament text in our readings today, with a canticle from Luke taking the place typically held by the psalm, we really have three Old Testament lessons - two of them are just being reinterpreted by Luke in light of the messiah. Luke is looking back on what has been promised and giving his audience a clue about where he is going in this “orderly account” so that Theophilius, to whom Luke’s gospel is addressed, “may know the truth concerning the things about which you have been instructed”. Theophilius, meaning “lover of God”, and “the truth” being the last word in the sentence in Greek, emphasizing the security offered by this narrative. We don’t know who Theophilius was - maybe Luke’s literary patron, maybe an everyman, since Theophilius was a common Greek name also used by Jews.

The canticle, which reflects on several Old Testament texts, is said by the priest Zechariah following a period of muteness which stretched from his own annunciation - the angel Gabriel visited Zechariah before Mary, letting Zechariah know that his wife was going to conceive and bear a son. Zechariah pushed back on Gabriel’s message, in the same way as Sarah does in Genesis and Mary will later in the same chapter of Luke and neither of the women are punished for their doubt - although the difference might be explained in how as a priest Zechariah should perhaps recall the biblical precedents applicable to his situation. Mary was likely in her early teens, and Sarah didn’t have precedence - she was the first miraculous later in life pregnancy in Israel’s scriptures. Zechariah was unable to speak for the duration of his wife Elizabeth’s pregnancy, having his “mouth opened and tongue freed” upon his declaration that the child was to be named John, as the angel instructed, he was filled with prophecy and spoke today’s canticle. During this time, Zechariah was clearly offered the opportunity for self reflection.

Sometimes Advent is treated as mini-Lent. Which is kind of right and kind of wrong. They are the same in the sense that they are both times of reflection and self evaluation. We oftentimes let the joy of Christmas cloud the penitential nature of self evaluation. Likewise, we let the starkness of Holy Week create a barrier and cloud the anticipatory joy of the Resurrection. But, of course, neither Advent nor Lent are seasons of waiting for waiting’s sake. In both Advent and Lent we are waiting for a revelation about our God: in Advent, His incarnation, in Lent, His passion and resurrection. In neither season is our waiting in vain.

The most meaningful part about spending so much of that waiting time with the prophets, with Isaiah and Malachi, with Jeremiah, Zephaniah, and Micah, is that we are given much better information about our savior than any physical description. We are given a spiritual account of what the messiah will mean to the world. A world where we have been refined and purified. 

In these spiritual accounts we are invited to use our holy imagination because the text doesn’t get into practical specifics. What does a world in which the glory of the Lord has been revealed look like? Where we have received the mercy of God and all flesh sees the salvation of our God? Where we have been called to repentance and forgiveness of our sins? 

We are invited in to be part of the reimagined, remade creation. To quote Job, as Handel does to begin the third part of the Messiah - and as we do in our burial liturgy, “I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that He shall stand at the latter day upon the earth. And though worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God.” In the very End, that is what we are really waiting for: “I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself and mine eyes shall behold, and not as a stranger.” We use our seasons of waiting to practice patience. To reflect on ways in which we can direct our feet, our minds, and our hearts to building up the kingdom of our God.

Soli Deo gloria. Glory to God alone. Amen.