This, too, shall pass. A sermon for the fourth Sunday of Advent

(with thanks to Simon Mayo and Mark Kermode’s Wittertainment and to Tom Hanks)

The readings this morning were: Isaiah 7:10-16; Romans 1:1-7; Matthew 1:18 to end.

“This too shall pass”

 These four words have no doubt been said by many people at many times. If you google the origins of the phrase, you’ll find it suggested that it has some of its roots in Persian folktales, arriving in English sometime in the 1800s. When I hear it, I tend to hear it spoken in the kindly voice of Tom Hanks, repeated on Mark Kermode and Simon Mayo’s film show early in lockdown in 2020.

This too shall pass. You having a rotten day? You having a hopeless day? This too shall pass. You having a great day? You feeling on top of the world? This too shall pass.

I.

It's a phrase that sprang into my mind this week as I reflected upon our passage from Isaiah—it seems to sum up what God is saying to King Ahaz through the prophet.

Ahaz was the king of Judah at the end of the C7th BCE, as the Assyrian Empire was spreading across the area we call the middle east. The smaller kingdoms of the area were scared of the Assyrians, and so Ahaz’s neighbours in the kingdoms of Israel and Aram made an alliance to stand against Assyria. They wanted Ahaz to join them, but Ahaz was worried that it might backfire and so he resisted—and so the kings of Aram and Israel attacked Jerusalem to try and force him to join them! This is the context in which God sends Isaiah to the king to say, essentially, ‘Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t make any stupid alliances, don’t make any stupid plans. I will protect Jerusalem. This too shall pass.’

Ahaz, it seems, is not the brightest and wisest king in history—turning down God’s offer of a sign to confirm his promise of faithful protection. You can almost imagine Isaiah rolling his eyes as he tells Ahaz not to weary God. And he gives Ahaz a sign anyway: a prophecy of a child to be born to a young woman. A child who will be called Immanuel and who will still be very young by the time the kings of Aram and Israel are overthrown—barely able to tell right from wrong or eat soft food like curds and honey. Think toddler age, at most. This threat will pass—if Ahaz can just have faith in God’s faithfulness to be with Judah. A promised marked by the name of the child—Immanuel, God with us.

But Ahaz cannot overcome his fears of Aram and Israel and asks Assyria for aid… giving them power over him and his kingdom and placing Judah in the crosshairs of imperial rivalries that will contribute to the destruction of Jerusalem… 

 II.

So how is this prophecy fulfilled in the story that Matthew tells us this week?

I think it’s important to be clear that Isaiah’s prophecy isn’t a prediction of Jesus’ birth. That’s not how prophecy works in the Old Testament. Isaiah is speaking to his present moment, of an imminent child, trying to give Ahaz hope by reminding him of God’s presence and faithfulness to his people. But if Isaiah’s prophecy isn’t a prediction of a far-off future, it is a prediction of an ongoing pattern—a pattern of God’s character and activity. Of a God who is with his people. Faithful to them. Working for their salvation and seeking to nurture their relationship with him.

And Matthew, writing of Jesus’ birth and knowing the man Jesus would grow up to be and what he would do, sees this pattern in the story of Jesus’ birth. A pattern of God’s faithfulness and God’s promise, only in this instance we also see a human response that trusts God’s word, enabling this faithfulness and promise of salvation to come to fruition.

We have here a different kind of difficult situation that creates fear. In this case, Joseph has just discovered that the young woman he is going to marry is pregnant, and not as a result of him having had sex with her. And so, Joseph is afraid for himself—we can imagine, perhaps, what might happen to him and his ability to sustain himself as a carpenter if his reputation took a hit. And he seems to be afraid for Mary’s reputation too—he does not want to disgrace her publicly, and makes a plan to deal with the situation quietly. But in his very human fear and planning he receives a messenger from God, an angel in a dream. An angel who says do not be afraid. Do not be afraid of the angel or of the future. For this child will be named Jesus—God saves. And of course, Matthew places this name alongside the name Immanuel, God with us. Which tells us a lot about how God saves.

This too shall pass. Both the gossip and humanity’s separation from God as a consequence of sin. This too shall pass.

And in contrast to Ahaz, who cannot quite believe that the threat facing him will pass without him doing something about it, Joseph somehow is able to trust God’s messenger. To have faith in God’s promise to be faithful, to be with us and to save us. Joseph trusts that whatever he is facing will pass.

It is a beautiful encapsulation of the way God’s salvation works out within history: of God’s determination to save and his invitation to humans to be a part of that as well. Jesus’s birth involves Mary’s yes to God, which is told in Luke’s gospel, and Joseph’s yes to God, which we read in Matthew this morning.

And through Joseph’s yes, Jesus is born into the house and line of David. For it is Joseph who is descended from David – and, of course, from Ahaz, the king to whom Isaiah spoke. Joseph might not have contributed any DNA—for the Holy Spirit does the work of generating Jesus (something that perhaps more closely resembles God’s creation of the universe than it does human reproduction)—but he is Jesus’ father and Jesus is his son. In Paul’s words to the Romans, Jesus is descended from David according to the flesh, and the Son of God with power according to the spirit. Later in the gospels people ask of Jesus, ‘isn’t this the son of Joseph, the carpenter?’  Whatever Joseph was afraid of passes (which is not, let us note, the same as saying that it was easy).

III.

What does this mean for us? How do we hear the promises offered to Ahaz and to Joseph? 

We have our fears too. But we believe that Jesus is Immanuel, God with us, and God who saves; even if, if we’re honest, it doesn’t always feel like that. The world remains messy, broken, full of sin and threat. We also need to hear God’s promises of faithfulness and to try and find reassurance and hope in them: it’s why we tell this story and read these words over and over again. She shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel… which means God is with us. When we hear these words each advent and Christmas, they come loaded with the frisson of poetry, the atmosphere of carol services, and the hopes and fears of generations of Christians hanging on faithfully to the promise they offer. This too shall pass.

But the fullness of God’s salvation is not yet revealed. We still wait and we hope.

And the Holy Spirit continues to make Jesus present to us in our lives, enabling us to experience God’s love and trust the promise of salvation. Think of the words of O Little Town of Bethlehem: “no ear may hear his coming, but in this world of sin, where meek souls will receive him—still the dear Christ enters in.”

What are our deep fears? What are the things that gnaw away at our ability to hope in God’s faithfulness, to believe in his presence, and to trust in his salvation?

Where in our lives do we need to hear God say to us, do not be afraid?

Where might we find the signs of Immanuel, God with us?

Where do we need to hear the words, this too shall pass?

“Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel. He shall eat curds and honey by the time he knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good. For before the child knows how to refuse evil and choose good, the land before whose two kings you are in dread will be deserted.”