When we talk about repentance, do we also rejoice? Why do we so struggle with being changed by God, turned and shaped, being loved?
The focus is not on what needs to change, but to let yourself be changed
Advent 3B | Luke 3:7-18
John is not holding back! Whew! I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that!
“You brood of vipers!”
Wow! That is strong! John might be known for dunking people in the river, but apparently, he scorches them first! Maybe the baptism John brings is just putting the fire out. It’s a safety hazard.
Then again, he says that he’s baptizing with water and the one following him will baptize with spirit and fire—so maybe he’s saying “You think this is spicy? Then you better bring some milk.” It’s about to get hot.
This all makes sense in a way, but remember that this is Advent. And in Advent, we get a slightly different take on what it is we’re all preparing for.
So this is what we get. Not some crazy desert prophet yelling at us, calling us vipers. But a kind of honesty we don’t otherwise notice. This season of preparation isn’t just gumdrops and good vibes. It’s something deeper; holier.
Slow down. The sun sets earlier, so it gets dark sooner. And after all the headlights and streetlights slow, we can really watch for it. The light is coming.
Rejoice!
We are starting the third week of Advent this morning with a slightly different voice. Yes, the first week was Jesus helping us begin with the end in mind and then last week we were reminded that the Christ isn’t just perpetually bound to come in the future: the Christ is here already!
But this week, we celebrate Gaudete Sunday, an ancient tradition of marking the middle of the penitential period with a spark of joy.
Gaudete is Latin for “rejoice.” Which is the first word of the introit appointed for the third Sunday in Advent:
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice.”
So the tradition has been to wear rose-colored vestments and light a rose-colored candle on the wreath and set this holy Sunday apart for a great rejoicing.
Which makes this awkward gospel story seem a bit out of place. But I think that’s what makes this a great opportunity for us to claim it anyway. And rejoice in spite of it.
Or, to be turned by it; to rejoice because of it.
The Metaphor
The story works on a metaphor that’s easy enough for some to get. But the rest of us need some help.
We use fire to shape our hardest elements. Rigid elements, like iron or steel, we make ‘em really hot, and only then do they bend. The same for glass. We heat them really hot so we might shape and move them into instruments of utility and objects of beauty.
And also the heating fire destroys the roughness and impurities. It transforms and makes an old thing new.
But without this image, fire is ferocious and frightening. And the idea of being put into a fire is threatening and punishing. We might think God doesn’t really love us.
It’s a lot like another metaphor I struggle with because I’m not a gardener: pruning. These two metaphors sound violent if we think that God is punishing and destroying people for doing the wrong things and merely sparing those who do good.
For those who know the metaphors well, however, those who work with fire and pruning shears, these aren’t acts of violence, but instruments of new growth.
In fact, they are essential and required.
Repent!
This is why the phrase “bear fruit worthy of repentance” really stuck out for me. Because too often our minds focus on the middle word of that sentence: worthy. But the first and last words are all the more important: bear and repentance.
The good news that John proclaims, and Luke calls it “the good news” by the way, is all about repentance. And it’s a shame we’ve made that word a turn off. It’s like it’s partner “sin,” which has been hijacked as a tool for punishment.
To repent is literally to turn. It’s a call to change.
Not only to turn away from sin. But turn toward Christ. It isn’t only the negative, it is also the positive. Not only the dark, but also the light.
And John doesn’t just stop there. He throws open the doors to all of creation, that we all may be children of Abraham. Even the stones under our feet.
But instead of preaching a fire and brimstone sermon to these strangers and telling them that they have a choice: turn or burn; John’s telling the people turn and burn. Be that steel or that glass shaped by the fire of God to be an instrument of God’s love in this world.
Be shaped by God! Then take yourself to work and be God’s beauty there. Take yourself into the streets and be God’s beauty there. And for God’s sakes, take yourselves into your neighborhood and be God’s beauty there.
John is proclaiming the good news of Jesus Christ and saying to everybody who will listen: be worthy of this opportunity to be transformed by God!
But the Stoicism Problem!
The stoic stock of my upbringing makes this metaphor all the harder to understand. Because I may want desperately to be forged by God into something truly beautiful, but I keep batting Jesus away and saying “no, I’ve gotta do this myself!”
I think I have to make myself worthy of repentance. That I’m the steel or the glass and the fire and the forger. Here’s my 10-point plan for a better life. Right? You might not wander down that self-help aisle at Books-a-Million, but I know in secret you know what I’m talking about.
And we’re so deluded by this, that we think there’s a matching 10-point plan to save the church. If we just start printing on both sides of the paper this place will be around when Jesus shows up.
Seriously. We’re all like the people who clean their home before the cleaning people show up. Which is even funnier when we realize it really is Jesus showing up. I don’t know about you, but I don’t really want Jesus washing the floor. But every day he does. All over the world. He washes peoples floors and their toilets.
Just like how he digs in coal mines and builds solar panels and serves coffee and drinks and burgers. He cleans and celebrates and teaches and advocates. And I know that’s the hardest for people to believe, but yes, lawyers can be Jesus too.
This isn’t Jesus as a copilot. Or the pilot of our lives. But it isn’t about being perfect for Jesus either. Because it isn’t about punishment or reward at all. It’s being open to let Jesus serve us. And transform us.
Be Free!
So as we draw closer to the Feast of the Incarnation, to Christmas, keep watch, my siblings. Be present to the presence.
Join me in preparing. Preparing our hearts and egos for this forging repentance, this divine transformation. A change which begins with letting go of those rules and systems which prevent us from truly knowing the love of Christ.
Let go of the need to be right! Be free of it! Let Jesus in!
This is what he does! He’s good at it! If Jesus is the king at anything it’s setting people free!
Free of total responsibility for everything that happens to us.
Free of the need to even be good at this Christian thing.
Let Jesus set us free. And rejoice in it!
That’s the heart of this transformation. Not the list to obsess over or the judgment to fear. But the freedom to love and be loved. Love like God loves. With a spirit and fire of love.