In Advent, we aren’t just preparing for the Incarnation by decorating, we are preparing ourselves by changing course.
And baptizing in this wilderness
Advent 3B | John 1:6-8,19-28
I might be inclined to say Wait. Didn’t we read about John last week? Because we did.
Last week we were introduced to John the Baptizer, who appeared in the wilderness preaching repentance of sin. And that choice of topic, repentance of sin, is not our favorite. It’s the kind of thing that reminds us more of manic street preachers than it does of a person we are confident was called by God.
This, of course, says a lot more about us and what we think about God’s message, I fear, than it does those people who shout on street corners. But no matter. We are talking about John and his message. A message that was way more popular with people than we like to admit.
He was inviting people to change.
Change their ways.
Their hopes and expectations.
Change their dreams of God.
And their traditions.
Change. Turn. And find God in the river. This new way. Among others on this same journey.
This message of repentance, of turning away from sin and toward God by choice, is not easy to hear. Or speak. It isn’t just like admitting we’re wrong, it very much is admitting we were wrong. And that is no fun at all.
But today, we get a different window in. A different vantage point. Not just on John, but on this message, this work, and God’s point in this.
Another way in
This telling comes from a different writer, the evangelist we know as John. Which is totally not helpful when the writer is John and he’s writing about somebody named John. I’m just sayin’.
And instead of having this big public encounter at the river, with people flocking from all over for the opportunity to change. People coming out of the woodwork for the chance to turn their lives around. We get something far different. Smaller. Separated from the action.
Something more like the back parking lot with a few concerned people than a street corner with a large crowd.
And these aren’t just any people. These are priests and Levites who are sent by the Temple leadership to check out this John guy. See if he’s on the up and up.
This is the pattern
We see it over and over throughout all the gospels. Particularly in John. Right from the beginning. The religious authorities don’t come out to hear the word proclaimed: “the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” They come to check out the quack.
We should even delineate the situation even further. They want to check his papers. Did he go to the right seminary? Is he on the right list? How can we verify he’s qualified? How can we prove this is real?
As someone who has hired people, served on diocesan councils, and done the hard work of discernment, seminary, ordination, and congregational searches, I can tell you that credentials and institutions are valuable. So I don’t want us to get the wrong impression here.
These people who come to test John aren’t wrong for doing so. They are responsible for stuff. And I’m willing to bet that they take their responsibilities faithfully.
But this encounter sets up a deep challenge for all people of faith.
Because John is asking them, us, to believe that God is doing a new thing. We should trust him. And we don’t know him.
The Prophet
This reminds me of someone I knew years ago. I rarely saw her in church, but her husband came all the time. Every week. They were both hard working, generous, thoughtful people. She ran the one-stop food and clothing ministry in town, tirelessly.
And I remember her speaking up at an annual meeting. And as she started, people started to check out. They knew what she was going to say. We aren’t budgeting enough for outreach. You may know this kind of situation. For me, that day about a decade ago, was iconic. Because she was speaking a hard word to people who didn’t want to hear it.
Could she have said it better? Of course.
Could she have worked harder to win people over? Yes.
But she isn’t responsible for their closed ears.
And if the congregation were open to what the Spirit might be trying to tell them, they might have been more inclined to see her passion in a different light.
Because she also wasn’t wrong.
In Advent, we are invited to turn.
We aren’t commanded by an authoritarian God. We aren’t wooed by the right person saying the perfect words to unlock the generosity from our hearts. This isn’t about the perfect messenger. We don’t get to pretend that God’s invitation through John has to do all of the work of getting us into that river.
John is inviting us to participate in something amazing. And if we don’t hear it, it is just as likely that we’re not really listening.
And that is hard to hear.
What is being revealed in the world is that God isn’t done with us. Or with this experiment. But we are expected to play our part in it.
With hope, generosity, and joy.
This morning, John (and John, both of them) draw our attention from the particular and the certain, the ordained and the rigid that inhabits our vision of the world around us, and to the magnificent and incredible divine.
Let us hear that shift, not as an escape from responsibility for our broken world, but as a promise. Like a parent coming down to the floor to help us clean up.