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The Second Sunday in Advent, 12/09/2018
Sermon on Luke 3:1-16, by David Zersen
“…the word of God came to John, son of Zechariah, in the desert … preaching a baptism of repentance…”
Desert Talks
If you have ever entered an Eastern Orthodox Church you will always find John the Baptist welcoming you on the iconostasis (icon screen) before the altar standing to the right of Jesus. He is known in that Christian community as the prodromos, the forerunner, the one who prepares us to see and understand the Messiah.
Today John, as he always does, is again preparing us to see Jesus on the first two Sundays in Advent. Many forget that the Advent season is not just a preparation for the Christmas celebration, but it seeks to prepare us in spirit for our reception of God’s redemption. Repentance, rejecting the sin that that too easily claims us, is an important preparation for being the whole person God calls us to be. And John is uniquely positioned to help us understand that preparation.
Many Christian traditions have taken this preparation more seriously than others. In the history of Protestantism, there have been numerous reformers that have called believers to qualities of life, to holy living, even to attempts at perfection. One of these movements touched the Welsh in the early 1900s bringing about conversions and a striving for sanctity that has been unique in modern Christianity. A hymn, known in Welsh as Calon Lȃn, spells out the intent of the movement in a powerful way. “I do not ask for a luxurious life,” the hymn begins, “but only for a pure heart.” In four-part harmony the Welsh still sing this today-- coal miners on the way home from work (e.g., in the well-known film “How Green Was my Valley”), young teens on the TV program “Britain’s Got Talent” and, most astonishing of all, entire stadiums at all national soccer events in Wales! John the Baptist would have loved it! People striving to be renewed, to have a full and whole life, centered in God’s love, as the attraction of the world’s superficial promises are set aside.
Of course, John doesn’t prepare his followers in a soccer stadium. He goes out to meet them in the desert. This has special meaning in Israel’s geography and theology and we should not miss it. Israel’s geography can allow for seasons of rain when regions like the Galilee become beautifully green. However, the regions in Judea around Jerusalem can have very hot and dry seasons. Theologically, it’s interesting to us who live with technology that can change our climate with a turn on a thermostat that the biblical writers often have people we know well entering a hot/dry/isolated/lonesome setting in order to prepare themselves, to use a modern expression, to “get right with God”. In fact, the English biblical word typically used to describe such a place is “wilderness.” It has a special ring to us. Elijah went into the wilderness when he was distraught in order to “get it all together”. Jesus went into the wilderness to prepare himself for his ministry. And St. Paul, after his conversion, entered the wilderness to seek to understand the profound change that would take place in his life—and, ultimately, in ours.
Theologically, the biblical stories suggest that “wilderness” is a setting in which all the attractions of an urban life, of human relationships, of personal greed or animosity can be set aside as one is confronted by the heat of the noonday sun or the isolation of lonely destination. It is there, where everything is “peeled” away that we come face to face with God.
Perhaps to prepare oneself to meet our Maker and to set things to rights we might ask ourselves what our own wilderness might look like. There are times in all of our lives when we find it necessary to change a view, to call into question an attitude, to accept failure, to plan a new direction. Usually we need to be alone when we are called to such confrontation. Where is your wilderness? I have known people who go to the red rocks of Sedona. To their basement work- bench. To work on their car in the garage. To take a long walk in the woods. To get away from everything and be alone in church. To clean cabinets like crazy. Sometimes the challenge set before us in such moments is overwhelming, controversial, painful. But make no mistake about it. Change is called for. Repentance can’t be avoided.
In Advent, quite apart from what the commercial websites and department stores and holiday jingles try to encourage, John the Baptist wants us to take some time to find ourselves again.
He surprises people of his day by calling them to accept baptism. Jews knew the concept of proselyte baptism through which non-Jews converted. And there were washings that Jews did in a mikveh, a kind of tub that one walked into to clean the body before entering the temple precinct. But John’s call to “gather at the river” was something new. It was controversial and challenging. I think it is for us too. Repentance is not a term that we embrace with open arms. Change is not anything we subscribe to easily. I remember reading the story about George W. Bush and Billy Graham taking a walk on the beach at Kennebunkport. George had wrestled with habits and addictions that called his Christian profession into question. And that day, on the beach, in prayer with Billy Graham, he repented and began to accept the clean heart, the Colon Lȃn, and renewed life that God alone can provide.
It’s quite interesting to all of us that people are camped outside our borders in the Southwest seeking the promise that the mansions in Hallmark’s films and the salaries that celebrities receive can be theirs as well. This imagery is hardly valid for most Americans. Granted that some people have been persecuted and abused in countries where lawlessness thrives, but many seek the affluence which suggests that life can be lived more abundantly when large numbers of dollars fill the wallet. I have worked with people in Tanzania, for example, who receive about $300 cash per month and can’t understand how people could be considered poor if they earn less than $40,000 per year. We understand that essential costs in countries differ, yet we also know that the quality of life within our borders has little to do with the things we possess or the security or health care we cherish. More than affluence what we prize most is our self-respect, our trust that others care about us, our belief that we can be fulfilled in caring for others as well and our hope that neither death nor life can separate us from the love of God.
Some years ago at an art fair I bought a large framed-photograph (perhaps 15 x 20 inches) of a half-nude man standing at his staff and summoning viewers with penetrating eyes. It was in the mind of the artist a modern-day John the Baptist and I regarded it as such. However, the secretaries who worked in the outer office saw it as inappropriate and confronting for those entering their space. In reflection, I understand their point. However, it is equally true that John’s call whether from an icon screen or from a modern photograph can be unsettling. There are things in your life and mine that need to change and Advent is a good time for us to think about them. Actually, now is an excellent time to prepare ourselves for the wholeness that the forerunner encourages.
The good news, of course, is that John is not finished with us when he confronts us in our wilderness. He is not through even when he shouts that the crooked needs to be made straight and the rough ways should be made smooth. He also adds that all humankind should be preparing itself to see God’s salvation, the salvation that comes to us in Jesus.
And that salvation, that gift—the most important gift that can be given—does not confront us with desert talks. It does not challenge us to straighten out as the forerunner does. It embraces us as we approach him, much as did the Prodigal’s father, assuring us of our acceptance, now and always. It is to receive that gift that you and I this Advent dare to move beyond our desert talks to the celebration of Christmas.
Suggested hymns: On Jordan’s Banks, the Baptist’s Cry
Hark the Glad Sound, the Savior Comes