O come, O come, Emmanuel. Amen.
“What then should we do?” It’s the “so what” question that preachers know always has to be addressed for a sermon to do its work. How does the Gospel intersect with our lived experiences? The crowds were out in the wilderness to be baptized by John and hear his preaching. They’re motivated to bear fruits worthy of repentance, but need some guidance on what exactly that means and so they ask, “What then should we do?”
As we continue waiting in Advent, not for the coming of Christmas, but the coming of Christ, we’ve waited with the prophets and John over the past two Sundays. Today, we wait with the establishment – the ordinary people who are part of the systems that make up society. Now, maybe you’re thinking “Robert, you might be a part of the establishment, but I’m not. I’m just a teacher, I sit in a cubicle all day, I work in retail.” Sure, we might not have as much power and influence as some do, but we all have power and a part of the systems that make up our society.
This is one of the important learnings of racial equity workshops – that we all have power because power simply means “to be able.” In that sense, we are all powerful because we have the ability to speak up or not, to spend money or not, to consume certain content or not, to lend a helping hand or not. And we are parts of all sorts of established systems – healthcare, education, government, religion, non-profit, business, manufacturing, farming, legal, finance, and the arts. In our lives, careers, interests, and hobbies, we all have social and institutional power that can either move us in the direction of beloved community, or away from it. And so the question that members of the establishment asked John is a vital question of discernment for us to ask as well – “What then should we do?”
There was a young man who went off to college and was mostly wasting his time there. He was more interested in the social scene than studies. He partied a lot, was indifferent about religion, and was really only interested in whatever and whoever would serve him best. Well, as college was drawing to a close it became time for him to answer that question “What then should I do?” A lot of his friends were moving towards politics, and he figured that would work. Despite his lack of qualifications, he decided to run for an open seat. His family had plenty of money to support the costly campaign and that was enough for him to win.
On one of the legislative recesses, he and a friend travelled across Europe by train. This friend was a devout Christian and their conversations eventually turned towards faith. He would later write that these conversations invigorated in him a sense of faith that he had never before had and he now knew that what he should do is to follow Christ with all sincerity and devotion. But he had the same question that those soldiers and tax collectors had, “What then should I do?”
This conversion moment for him was a great change in his worldview, but he didn’t feel at peace. Instead, he was unsettled because he felt that this faith was supposed to drive him towards something, but he didn’t know what. A lot of people, when they get into a situation of wanting to do more ministry immediately assume that ordination is the only path forward. And so, he did consider the priesthood for a while, but his friends urged him not to continue down that path. Not because they thought he’d be a bad priest, but they could see that it wasn’t what he should do.
One friend, the leader of his political party, convinced him that God’s call for him was in politics. He agreed to continue serving in that way – but he remained unsure of how God intended to use him in the messy realm of politics. In a time of turmoil and angst, he reached out to a family friend for advice. This friend had also wrestled with that question before. His friend had been an investor in the Trans-Atlantic sale of enslaved people from Africa, and he was also the captain of several slave ships in the Middle Passage. This friend’s own conversion to faith led him to become a priest and an abolitionist. The friend would later write about his own conversion, “I was blind, but now I see.” And this mentor helped him to see that God had put him into politics for a time such as this. He finally had a clear and compelling answer to the question “What then should I do?”
At the age of 32, he introduced the first bill in British Parliament to abolish the slave trade. The bill was easily defeated by a 2:1 margin. For the next 18 years, he wrote essays, gave speeches, and reintroduced legislation on the topic. And, finally, in 1807, as tears streamed down his face, the bill was passed. But he did not stop here – the sale of enslaved peoples was illegal, but slavery remained in practice around the world. So he pushed for the full abolition of all enslaved people for the next 27 years; and just four days before his death in 1833, Parliament passed legislation to end the abhorrent and abysmal practice of slavery. It took him most of his life, but he had done the work that he had been given to do.
This is the story of William Wilberforce, whose presence among us in an icon blesses us a witness to what we, those with power, should do with it. What then should we do? As the prophet Micah put it, we are to “do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God.” The reason we decided to commission an icon of Wilberforce several years ago is that he is an inspiration and example to us of what we are to do with the abilities and opportunities that we have. He is depicted penning the liberation legislation that he fought so tirelessly for; and in the corners are the symbol of the abolition movement – broken shackles that remind us of how we are set free in Christ – and the Wilberforce family herald, the eagle, symbolizing the Gospel of John.
These windows and icons, as lovely as they are, are not primarily works of art. They are portals that connect us to saints who have gone before and make present the grace of God that moved in their lives. So it is completely appropriate to talk to them – to say, “Thank you for your dedication William, inspire me to also do the holy work entrusted to me.”
Wilberforce helps us to read this passage from Luke and have a better sense of what it is we are to do in response to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. To be clear, it’s always about grace. We do not do anything in order to earn God’s love, to make ourselves worthy of forgiveness, or deserve our belonging. These things are secured by the love of God, not our actions. However, the love and mercy of God towards us are intended to transform us. That’s whyJohn says, “Bear fruits worth of repentance.”
“Repentance” is a churchy word that sounds very philosophical – but it’s not intended to be. It’s a very practical word that means “do things differently.” The people who come out to see John ask, “What then should we do?” and are given very practical and doable actions, not theological lectures. If you’re a tax collector, don’t take more money than you’re supposed to. If you’re a solider, don’t abuse your power to take from people. If you’re the sort of person who owns two of something and you notice someone that has none, given them your extra. St. Basil the Great, a 4th-century bishop, put it this way, “When someone steals another’s clothes, we call them a thief. Should we not give the same name to one who could clothe the naked and does not? The bread in your cupboard belongs to the hungry; the shoes rotting in your closet belong to the one who has no shoes; the money which you hoard belongs to the poor.”
This isn’t rocket science. But a lot of time we struggle to draw out the implications of faith. Sometimes that’s because we really need guidance and aren’t sure what to do. Other times we know exactly what to do but we don’t have the courage to do it, or we’re so addicted to money or comforts that we don’t do it, or we convince ourselves that we don’t have the time. We can come up with a lot of reasons to not respond to the Gospel, but thanks be to God that God doesn’t abandon us and continues to give us opportunities to participate and share in the Gospel.
And that really is the correct frame for the holy work that we should be doing. It’s not an obligation or burden, it is how we receive the fruits of the Gospel, by sharing in the mercy, grace, and love that we are given. You all might think that I wake up every morning on fire to do the work of ministry. Being a priest is tremendous privilege and I am thankful for it, but I’m still human. There are days I don’t feel like doing much, there are appointments that I sometimes am not excited about. Sometimes I really dread going to Diocesan required events. But I don’t think I’ve ever shown up to an event, gathering, service, or meeting when I did not receive some blessing from God, was not moved in some way by the Spirit, or did not receive some gift in being with others.
God Almighty created the heavens and the earth without us, and if God wanted to make bacon, eggs, and toast appear before everyone each morning, that could be done. But in giving us holy work to do with and for one another, God has given us the gift of being in relationship with one another, with the joys and blessings that come through ministering to one another. This is why Jesus says, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” Because in God’s economy, as the Prayer of St. Francis puts it, “it is in giving that we receive and it is in pardoning that we are pardoned.”
Obviously, I never met William Wilberforce, but I guarantee that he would say that the holy work of his lifetime was not a task or a burden, it was the means by which God blessed him with the liberation of the Gospel. In working for the freedom and dignity of others, he grew in his own sense of freedom and dignity. And it’s the same for all of us – in giving, we receive. As Wilberforce put it, “When we think of eternity and the future consequence of all human conduct, what is there in this life that should make anyone contradict the dictates of conscience, the principles of justice, and the law of God?”
What God would have you to do might not be running for Congress. Think about setting off on a long journey, by changing your heading in a small way can make a big impact. In aviation, they call this the 1-in-60 Rule: being off by one degree in your heading, after travelling 60 miles, you’ll be off by one mile from your destintion. Now, in aviation that’s a bad thing; but in life, this is good news. Making a very small change over the course of weeks, months, and years can have a profound impact. As Wilberforce reminds us, we don’t have to change our career, we don’t have to make big outward changes, we simply respond the best we can to the opportunities God puts before us. And while our work and ministry will make a real impact in the world, we should not overlook the way in which we will be transformed and brought further into the grace and glory of the Gospel through serving God and neighbor.
Baptism is no empty ritual. Faith is not a sequestered part of our lives call “spirituality.” Ministry is not what we do with our spare time, it is the fullness of our life’s work and how God intends to come to us and transform us. Love is what makes a life worth living, and God graciously gives us ample opportunities to put that love into action through those around us. Advent reminds us that Jesus continues to come to us, giving us occasions to respond in love.
Asking “What then should we do?” is a holy and daring question that opens us to the transforming grace of God. I would appreciate it if you’d pray for me, that I might always be listening for the Spirit’s guidance. Please pray for our Parish, that we might have clarity and passion around doing what God is giving us to do. And I will hold each of you in prayer, that God will show you how to respond to the grace of the Gospel and thereby receive the blessings of ministry. If you’d like to find a time to meet and talk about discerning that question it would be my delight to do so.
What then should we do? Remember that you are loved and go and do likewise.
