Second Sunday in Advent
Year A
December 9, 2007
All Saints’ Bentonville
Gospel:
In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near." This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said,
"The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
`Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.'"
Now John wore clothing of camel's hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.
But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruit worthy of repentance. Do not presume to say to yourselves, `We have Abraham as our ancestor'; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.
"I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire."
John the Baptizers entrance onto the Christmas scene, on this second Sunday in Advent, is more than a little jarring. In our house most evenings now, we are listening to music befitting the season. We’ve put out the simple hand carved crèche from Cindee’s childhood, a manger scene where everything is peaceful, the animals gathered around the manger; baby Jesus sleeping without a care. Our dog, Tyke, is typically warming himself beside the fireplace, the smell of singed dog hair mixed with the scent of holly. Cindee has put up her tiny little lights all over the house. It’s nice; it’s beginning to feel like Christmas. And then I get up in the morning and I read from Matthew’s Gospel about John the Baptist. John has stepped out of the wilderness, dressed in camel skin, munching on locusts and wild honey, and shouting at us like the honey has given him some kind of sugar high, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?” Kind of makes me want to get up and flee to the nearest shopping mall.
John is directing his wrath toward the Pharisees and the Saducees, those who are arrogant and complacent and assume that their socially privileged positions and religious pedigrees guarantee them salvation. It’s harsh language to use during the holiday season.
It is much more pleasant to reflect on the promise of Isaiah: “The wolf shall live with the lamb,
the leopard shall lie down with the kid,
the calf and the lion and the fatling together,
and a little child shall lead them.”
That’s more the Christmas image we have in mind. Not this maniac wearing animal skins and roaring at us to “Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.” But you know, both of these voices provide a vision of the Kingdom – a kingdom where there is justice for all and where peace prevails. It is easy enough to reject both of these voices, because a world of peace and justice for everyone seems so distant, so elusive. But to deny it’s possibility, to accept the permanent existence of poverty, hate, and injustice, is to reject the promise of the John, “The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand”.
Sean Penn has directed a film called, “Into the Wild”. It is based on the true story of Christopher McCandless, a recent graduate of Emory University, with a successful future laid out before him. Preparing to enter Harvard Law School, Christopher rejects his parents’ offer to buy him a new car as a graduation present. He donates the remaining balance from his college fund, $25,000, to charity, burns his cash and sets off for the wilderness. His travels take him across deserts, through the wheat fields of South Dakota, into the urban jungle of Los Angeles, kayaking down the Colorado all the way to Mexico, and eventually into the wilds of Alaska. Unlike John the Baptist, he never shouts to the people he encounters that they should confess their sins or calls them a brood of vipers. But his is truly a voice crying in the wilderness. A voice rejecting the demand that he become, just another consumer. A voice that rejects the constant pressure we all endure to define ourselves by what we buy rather than what we are.
It turned out badly for young Christopher; he wasn’t prepared for the harshness of an Alaskan winter. And it turned out badly for John the Baptist, who eventually had his head served up on a platter. Society typically deals rather harshly with those who reject the norms, those unwilling to conform to a society and an economy that treats an individual as a mere purchaser of the goods and services it has to offer.
“Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.” The prophet Isaiah, whom Matthew quotes here, wrote these words to a people in exile – the Israelites living in captivity in Babylon. They were written as words of comfort, to a people who longed for home and who longed for God. The words that follow “Make straight in the desert a highway for our God” refer to the Israelites desire for a way home - a desire to return to a way of being from which they had been separated.
Within each of us, I think, is a desire to return to another way of being, something different from what we have now, something that satisfies a deep-seated longing. We know that something is wrong with the way we are conducting our lives now, but we often can’t quite put our finger on it.
We imagine that if we just could change something, get a particular job, get past a financial hurdle, overcome an illness or a loss, or solve a troubling family issue that it will all be okay.
The problem is, we are lost in the wilderness, and don’t even realize it. We think we know the way out, but we don’t have a clue. We try this way and that, imagining that we have a good sense of direction, but we are lost and we are listening to the wrong voices pointing the way out.
We get sucked in by bunch of hucksters: “Looking for happiness? Step this way, your 36” flat screen TV is puny, what you need is a Liquid Crystal Television, with stunning picture quality, full HD 1080p resolution, 10,000 to 1 dynamic contrast ratio and still remarkably thin. That will bring you happiness… so we are told.
"The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: `Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.'" I don’t know about you, but my path has been anything but straight. The path that has led me here, to All Saints’ Episcopal Church in Bentonville, Arkansas, has been about as crooked as you can imagine. And my guess is that most of you have wandered in the wilderness a bit before finding yourself here. But really, I’m not sure that the straight and narrow is always the best course.
At our house we’re building a winding path down the hillside that slopes down to the lake. There is a path there already. The trouble is, it’s so straight and so steep, that it’s almost impossible to walk. Trying to follow the straight and narrow, doesn’t always work. We need to allow some time for God to work with us. A few fits and starts, some meanderings, some seemingly bad moves, these give God something to work with – something God can use to teach us.
Sometimes God leads us into the wilderness – just as he led the Israelites – simply because we aren’t ready to enter the Promised Land. I worry less about those of us who are wandering in the wilderness and feeling some anxiety about it, than I worry about those who exist in the wilderness and have found it good. It is those who thrive in the wilderness of power, wealth, social status and who are perfectly happy with the stuff they surround themselves with – that John the Baptist is crying out to.
Ultimately, the cry for repentance that we hear John shout, is really very good news. He brings us good news of one more powerful than he, who baptizes, not with water, but with the Holy Spirit. John emerges from the wilderness dressed as one who has tasted what the world has to offer and has found it wanting. This is welcome news for us because we too have pursued an inadequate dream, accumulated more stuff than John the Baptist could have imagined, and still found it unsatisfying. We can get off the treadmill. John’s message is telling us that life isn’t about a bigger house, a nicer car, a TV with a wider, thinner screen.
Forget all the stuff, the trappings of what passes for success. Just be, John tells us. Wait, anticipate, be watchful for the one who’s Presence alone is sufficient. It’s Advent, prepare the way of the Lord.