Drew Downs

  • Trust — the Love of God, Hope of the World

    Advent 4A  |  Matthew 1:18-25

    The gospel of Matthew has one of the most unintentionally funny moments in scripture. It’s right up there with Paul yelling at the people of Corinth “I’m glad I didn’t baptize any of you!” before proceeding to name all the people he actually did baptize there. We got the same thing here this morning. The evangelist tells us 

    “Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way.”

    And proceeds to tell us a story about an angel convincing Joseph not to dump Mary like a bag of rocks. Which, if you hadn’t quite noticed, is not so much a tale of Jesus’s birth as it is a conversation with an angel. 

    It gets even better when we get to the birth itself, told in the past perfect simple tense of “she had borne a son”. Which still isn’t a story of Jesus being born. It is a story of Mary giving birth — she’s the agent in that clause, that tiny part of the story. 

    So, to recap, the story of “the birth of Jesus the Messiah” is a story about Joseph. And Joseph’s relationship to his fiancée. And that his fiancée gave birth to her son that he is to name Jesus. That is funny. And isn’t that the perfect stepdad story? Yes, I am that important! I get to be the main character in your story! Actually, isn’t that just a Dad story? We are on a mission to be the main character forever.

    Oh, and moms, don’t think we don’t see what you’re up to when we’re not in the room. We might not selectively hear what you’re whispering, but we know what you’re saying.

    Joseph’s Challenge 

    Parents of all kinds know that the story is never really about us. We have a story that involves life and relationship and the arrival of a child into that space. And because that child has their own life that is now tied into ours, we have a story about them, but it isn’t their story. Our story involves them, but it isn’t them. They get their own story. And we get to be a part of it. (Hopefully an important part!)

    That impact, of becoming more with a child, is significant, isn’t it? It always is. Kids are like hurricanes. You thought you knew what you were going to do with the rest of your week, but not so fast. Now we’ve got to go to the store to get some supplies to weather this thing. Or go find the in-laws. Maybe they’re in Bethlehem. 

    The impact on Joseph and Mary, though, is different. Today, younger Millennials and Gen Z buy a house and have a kid and maybe get married, if they have to. For Mary and Joseph, the impact ranges from between being cast out of their homes to public execution by stoning. Sticking by Mary is a life-threatening choice. It involves hiding what refuses to stay hidden.

    For Joseph, this isn’t an easy decision. Nor is it logical, natural, or “what anyone would do.” He hasn’t grown up on movies, TV shows, books, and memes declaring “doing it all for love” as the highest of human virtues.

    A Matter of Trust

    For Joseph to trust the angel, he has to first trust God. That this thing that God is up to would be so strange, so irregular, that he would be visited by this angel. To recruit him to this ridiculous cause. And then, this angel would have him resist the law. God’s law. You see how weird this sounds. And honestly, it doesn’t get any less weird the more we dig because Joseph is trusting God would have him trust this angel with the work of trusting his fiancée. And that all of this trusting is for a greater good that he will never see.

    That’s a lot of trust, isn’t it? A lot of trust for . . . what exactly? Not that people ought to do things transactionally, but trust does that, doesn’t it? It feels like buying something on credit, or more like, lending that credit, actually. When it’s a cup of sugar to a neighbor, we’re like, it’s just sugar and also maybe they’ll get us back sometime. But when we’re talking law and life and death, we probably need something more to go on is what I’m saying. And Joseph is going on word and faith and that is it.

    Thank God he said yes.

    Because here’s the thing. It isn’t like this system couldn’t get rebooted if it goes another way. If Joseph says no, God will move along and find another fiancé with fewer trust issues. But that isn’t how it played out. Joseph trusted God and the angel and Mary that this boy, Mary’s son:  he gets to name Jesus. Who gets to be his son. He gets to be in David’s line through Joseph. This isn’t step-dad territory to God. This is full-fledged Dad. Stay up and wait for him to come home, teach him how to drive, play catch and pick up when he falls down Dad stuff.

    God trusts Joseph to be the real dad.

    Real Dad Stuff

    This is the incredible truth of the Messiah: that he comes, not in majestic power, but in vulnerability. He comes dependent, needing to trust. He needs to trust in Mary who trusts in Joseph who trusts an angel is telling him the truth because he trusts God. And the thing about being a baby is that you have no choice. You trust your mom because she smells right and you recognize your dad’s voice, his laugh, the songs he sings at night. Trust is easy when it is all you know.

    Isn’t that a powerful truth? The kind of thing we should probably linger on when we’re used to moving forward. Trust is easy when our world just is. Babies trust their parents the more they are there. The less anxious their parents are, the more present they are, the more trusting they are. Trust brings more trust. And with it, love.

    And because it isn’t Christmas yet, I hate to let the Christmas sermon out early, but the lectionary gives us a birth story that is really a Joseph story dressed up as a birth story, taking the birth for granted, I feel I have to name the power of the story is trust. That God trusts Joseph enough to be vulnerable to him. To put the whole project into his hands. To protect them. Love them. With all of his heart.

    This is about God’s vulnerability reflected in Joseph. That this would be the home for the Christ, Messiah, the Son, the second persona of the trinity. A vulnerable home. Full of people who trust each other. Love each other. That is the magic of the moment.

    We Are Joseph

    As much as we gender the parent roles, it is clear that we are all Josephs in our common story. In the same way that we are all Marys and babies. We are dependents who trust from the moment of birth. Who are called to continue to trust in increasingly new and difficult ways throughout our lives. Trusting, not in everything, but in God and in one another. Trusting in our mission, Jesus’s Way of Love, in our neighbors, and in the hope of things to come. 

    We are called to trust because the Kin-dom, the dream of God, is trust. It is the antidote to the frightened, angry, vengeful kingdoms of earth. Our love revolution, which upends all that we know as normal, draws from the pools of trust.

    God optimized the faith for a posture of trust. So that we would understand that faith isn’t a solo pursuit. We can’t do this life thing alone. We have family and neighbors and friends and coworkers and all manner of cohabitants in this orb floating through space. And we survive by trust. That God is doing a thing and we are doing a thing and we can be responsible for each other’s safety and support. We can teach each other and share with each other and delight in each other’s company. 

    Trust is the fuel that runs the love machine. And the gospel proves that it isn’t earned, it’s invited; shared. We offer it and ask for it. Because the point is that this is the central means of our survival. Our trust in each other.

    So be generous with it. Offer it and invite it. Show your trust in your neighbor. Show that you can be trusted. Raise the value of trust in our community. And love, knowing that this is the Way of Love, the dream of God, risked in vulnerability, like a gift, into the arms of an adopted father, made real. Chosen and called. Trusting right back with all his heart. Fragile and mighty. The savior of the world.

  • Choosing and Faith—for Advent 4A

    For Sunday 
    Advent 4A


    Collect

    Purify our conscience, Almighty God, by your daily visitation, that your Son Jesus Christ, at his coming, may find in us a mansion prepared for himself; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.

    Amen.

    Reading

    Matthew 1:18-25

    Reflection

    Considering how big a deal the birth of Jesus is to our faith, it is hilarious how low-key it is depicted in the Gospel of Matthew. It is simply something that happens, a dependent clause near the end. In fact, it is written entirely in relationship to Mary, to Joseph’s relationship to her, and the consequences of his choosing to remain with her.

    He has a dream, follows it, marries Mary, but doesn’t sleep with her until she gives birth to Jesus.

    There is no small amount of interest in Joseph, particularly as he is given a particular part to play in this telling of the story. Interest that is enhanced by just how much this version is directly about him.

    We might choose, as we often do this time of year, to consider the matter of agency — that Joseph and Mary each say yes to the angel’s offer (Joseph in Matthew and Mary in Luke) — which provide a way into the wider story for us. They had a choice — and so do we. A choice to let the light of Christ into our hearts and be changed.

    The place of change and choice in Christian practice is often treated as the living out of belief, which of course it is, most profoundly in the sacraments. But let us consider it more organically, as a response to relationship — as in our relationship with God. And what defines relationships but the regular participation of its members. The choices we make with someone else, or for them; on behalf of them. The choice to love in particular ways, with gifts, kindness, or attention, perhaps.

    When we consider faith as an active participatory relationship with God, the example of the choices made by Joseph and Mary reflect the choices we receive on a regular basis to participate in the wider Jesus Event, to accept the burden and joy of loving our neighbors, seem easier. And yet, no less holy.

  • Save — the promise, the expectation, the choice

    When the angel comes to Joseph, he can read the situation. A pregnant fiancée has certain . . . associations. And repercussions. Of course he’d be angry, yes, but mostly scared. So he tells him to chill. Do not fear. God is up to something — and you’re going to want to hear this.

    The situation is deadly, remember. For everyone. So they’re going to have to come up with a plan. Much like families sending their daughters to special schools after an “accident” or TV shows hiding an actress’ “bump” from the audience behind a desk or baggy clothing.

    It is fun to speculate, isn’t it? But none of this is the point of the story. The angel tells Joseph that this boy, Mary’s son, will save the world. And he is to name him Jesus. This is his part to play. To be the step-dad. To be responsible. And help the boy change the world.

  • Why We Need To Be Talking About the AI Bubble

    As Charles McBryde writes in his Facebook post:

    “I find myself asking not what are the possible AI futures, but what is the likeliest?”

    [Video Text: “Entire US economy based on three companies gambling on a technology that is either useless, evil, or will taker your job.”]

    Most AI hype focuses on a hypothetical of what AI can do for an individual. It can help you solve problems and make it easier to create things yourself.

    Most AI frustration argues that it helps students cheat and companies steal.

    And then most AI fears have spoken about a future apocalyptic fantasy.

    Only occasionally we’ll hear voices trying to help us follow along. Laying out what the path looks like. What to expect. Basic dot-connecting stuff. Like, if this replaces someone’s job . . . what are they going to do for a job?

    And you see how all of this is connected, right? That we’ve got a huge job-stealing future and nobody talking about jobs. Or we have a destructive, evil construct that we’re all just going to feed until it eats us. Or else we are throwing all of this money down the drain. And given all of these possibilities, we put all of our hopes on . . . this?

    Remember that China made their competitor open-source, while using one-tenth of the resources? Consider that when they build another data center and gobble up more venture capital.

    The good news is that communities are fighting back and blocking resource-stealing data centers. But this isn’t about one community. Like it isn’t about one student cheating.

    We must build an alternative framework.

    Some Ideas

    We have a narrative problem — which is also tied to an economic problem and a media problem. And for us, the first step is to recognize the problem. So we can’t solve the issue with an idea. We have to work through this together.

    Here are a few ways to approach this next stage:

    Personally —

    1. Get clear that AI integration is not a matter of supply and demand. Google has integrated AI into search, so we’ll use it indirectly. NOTE: this is not a matter of individual choice and more, proof of moral failing. Sharing the hacks to disable it so that maybe ten percent of people will do it is not significant enough to change market forces.
    2. Choose to use AI intentionally. This is about keeping clear in your mind what this technology is for. And because it is an extreme resource hog, treat it like a limited resource.
    3. Lean into creativity. Be the very thing AI can’t be. And going in the same vein . . .
    4. Read for fun. Write things by hand. If it helps to be a revolutionary, go and do that. But for those that are seeing the downside of AI integration, we are seeing decreasing comprehension, skill development, and knowledge retention in all places of AI adoption. AI is making us dumber.
    5. Seek out art by artists you can meet face-to-face. Read books by people you know. Replace the AI slop in your social media feed with handcrafted work by a real person.

    Systemically —

    1. Research related think tanks, academics, and institutes that are working on dealing with AI in the future. Don’t focus only on the cheerleaders, but on the people doing the work of dealing with the monster that the Frankensteins are building. Collect the information and find novel ways to talk about it, because we can help our neighbors out.
    2. Think like a futurist. For example, what would happen if the projections are true: that a quarter of all jobs might disappear by 2030? How might we prepare to protect these people and our economy while also finding new work? And what might that work look like? And how might we ensure that work is dignified?
    3. Push public officials to both slow down integration and investment and prepare for the future of AI. As long as politicians are rewarded for thinking only about jobs and money, and punished for considering natural resources, county commissioners and state representatives will champion data centers that will leech all of the water and electricity from a community — and get the people to pay the cost of upgrading the infrastructure (if it is even possible).
    4. Organize locally and regionally around building a future that survives AI, both culturally and economically. This might include resource management that makes healthcare a universal right, for example, or brings down the cost of housing — both of which buffer the effects of mass layoffs. But it can be as simple as reimagining what work looks like and encouraging our neighbors to join us.
    5. Prepare to push our leaders at the federal level to take this seriously in the new year, because they aren’t planning for 2030, just 2026.

    The Future

    What we can’t afford to do is pretend that the only choice about AI we have is to personally boycott or embrace, as if it is all inevitable. Nor can we afford to consider the matter too complicated to form an opinion about, for it is not just “good” or “bad”. We needn’t form an opinion about AI itself or hold ourselves to a strict standard around it to prepare for the fallouts even its supporters acknowledge.

    In other words, we needn’t keep a lengthy boycott or become a true believer in AI — this has almost nothing to do with the steamrolling Silicon Valley is offering up with billions and billions in investor fuel. It has to do with organizing and preparing for a future that imperils, depending on the outcome, either the US economy, a hundred million Americans, or the whole world. These outcomes don’t depend on your use of ChatGPT to bake a cake.

    When we understand the game extends beyond ourselves, we might find that planning to protect, not just our families, but our neighbors, our communities, and our people makes a lot more sense.

  • Persevere — How to Rejoice in the Prophetic Promise of Jesus

    How to Rejoice in the Prophetic Promise of Jesus
    Advent 3A  |  Matthew 11:2-11

    Last week, we met John the Baptist in the wilderness, proclaiming repentance. Now we jump forward; John is in prison and Jesus is out proclaiming the Good News. And when word of this work comes to John’s cell, he’s . . . surprised, isn’t he?

    So what exactly has Jesus been up to?

    Well, mostly preaching and healing. Chapters five through seven are one long sermon, called the Sermon on the Mount. Chapters eight and nine are mostly healing stories and exorcisms involving all kinds of people. And chapter ten has Jesus bringing the Twelve together and naming them apostles. He grants them remarkable authority and power to heal and proclaim the Good News themselves. Then he predicts the coming persecution and division.

    What of this confounds John the Baptist, exactly? Makes him skeptical? He is, afterall, the one who spoke of the Messiah’s purifying and winnowing. 

    If I had to hazard a guess it is the trust in the apostles. And perhaps a preoccupation with healing and restoring and not nearly enough army-building and springing friends from prison.

    Division

    Of course, John was the one who, last week, snapped at those Pharisees and Sadducees who joined the masses in repenting of sin. So I doubt he’s opposed to division within the mission of God. Or maybe he expected the Messiah would beat them into submission or win them over. But instead, Jesus is too busy healing people, including gentiles. Maybe Jesus is too soft.

    Soft like royalty. Like those leaders in the Temple. Not like John, the wild-eyed prophet, who stalked the riverbanks and drew the people from their safe homes out to the middle of nowhere on a promise. Salvation. God’s love.

    Jesus assures them there is much he has in common with John. This is the straight line from prophet to Messiah that they all had thought. Not by saying “trust me” and then explaining it. Laying it out in a theological argument. But he invites them to see it themselves. To open their eyes to the fruit that God has brought forth through him. In his work. See it for themselves. Report that back. He draws them in as witnesses. They can see. And share. Like apostles.

    Offense

    Then it comes as a throwaway — a most important claim: 

    “And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”

    These are the stakes of listening to him. Blessing. And dare we say, Joy? Blessed in hearing him, believing him, knowing him. In sharing the Good News. Blessing and joy and love.

    Who would take offense? Those quick to abandon relationship. Or demand comfort for themselves. 

    Who is offended today? And what do they do? Do we name the problem and seek resolution? Sue for libel? Use power to silence? What are we saying when we are offended? Or implying? Do we lose touch — end the relationship? 

    Or is it that Jesus is speaking to something more significant than mere offense? Consider the direction Jesus goes next: he asks what the crowds expected to see when they went out to see John in the wilderness. Did they expect him to be shaken by the wind, moved by the pressure of the powerful to be silent? Did they expect him to look like the Temple authority in the soft royal dress of the powerful? Jesus is pushing on their expectations. 

    Jesus has already told them to witness what they have seen. He is calling them to be witness to something even greater.

    Stumbling

    The NIV translates that same line as:

    “Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me.”

    That hits way different, doesn’t it? Offense is too easy for us, I think. Our culture has a pedantic relationship to being offended. Too easy to slip into partisanship.  But the voice these different translations offer is something more connected to this discipleship moment that Jesus offers to these followers of John. Blessing is about seeing the signal through the disorienting noise. It is about carrying on in the midst of deep struggle. In short, it’s about John’s perseverance. And his disciples doing the same.

    What is noticeably absent from Jesus’s list of blessing from the Messiah: a statement that the imprisoned shall be set free. Jesus isn’t sending John a promise to bring a righteous army or that he’ll be taking the crown from Herod and using his commutation power.

    John is going to have to tough it out.

    What a strange message of joy, huh? Hey, friend, sorry I can’t help! Just keep on keeping on! Thoughts and prayers, my guy!

    The Reed in the Wind

    Like John, Jesus is a reed facing the wind. We don’t blame the dead leaf ripped from the tree for its own being carried by the wind. It’s the wind. How could it not be taken from the tree and blown onto the grass?

    And yet we expect the Messiah to not only stop the wind from blowing, but make it blow at our neighbor’s leaves. As if this is the nature of wind. Or messiahs.

    The message to the crowds isn’t about the wind, but the resistance to it. The image of standing up to the pressure rather than embracing the safety of the powerful.

    And we might hear this the way John’s disciples would, with disappointment, or, hopefully, with grace and comfort. That we, too, can open our eyes to see the grace that is around us. That God is at work in our world. That we, too, are witnesses to it. 

    Just in case we’re missing the point: Jesus assures the crowd that none of this ought to diminish John’s place in the story. He was the herald of joy. The greatest to grace the earth. That means he is amazing! And that makes him nothing compared to what the Kin-dom offers. The Kin-dom is that much better than this. Where he marks the greatest among us. We should be excited by this prospect. That the lowest bar in God’s Dream for creation is the greatest among us now.

    You know, those expectations of the wind? That Dream is how it moves in the other direction. Not because the Messiah tells it to — though it seems he could — but because, in God’s Kin-dom, that dream for creation, we will build a windtunnel that blows our oppression away.

    Perseverance and Joy

    We get these difficult messages now because this is the season when we face them in the church. When the church gets its most prophetic. It names the challenge of the world and says Yeah, this — this isn’t the best we can do. And it sure doesn’t reflect our love or our faith in God.

    And yet, we also get the message of perseverance. A message of sticking with it. Being full of the love of Jesus here, in spite of the challenges we face. Because the work isn’t much work when it’s easy. We need to be at it when we and the world most need us to be at it.

    There is joy and security in this. In following Jesus’s Way of Love during times of turmoil. To be needed. Loving the unloved and rejoicing at the grace of God. 

    There is joy here. Like when things are rough and I call my parents, hoping for a good word, something. They’re hundreds of miles away now. They can’t snap their fingers and fix a thing, no matter how much they might want to. But I call and I enjoy my time with them and feel their love, and their delight fills and renews my heart. Let God do that for you. Like we can do the same for each other.

  • On Second-Guessing the Way—for Advent 3A

    For Sunday 
    Advent 3A


    Collect

    Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us; and, because we are sorely hindered by our sins, let your bountiful grace and mercy speedily help and deliver us; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom, with you and the Holy Spirit, be honor and glory, now and for ever.

    Amen.

    Reading

    Matthew 11:2-11

    Reflection

    Last week we met John the Baptist. Now, we’ve skipped ahead to a future point, after King Herod arrested him and now John is rotting in prison. He now has a lot of time on his hands to question his choices. So it isn’t strange to read that he’s wondering if he’s backed the wrong horse in Jesus. Is this the guy he thought he was? Best to send some people to find out. To double-check.

    I think we can find a lot of sympathy for John the Baptist, if we try. He has a lot invested in getting this right. In getting Jesus right.

    And I think Jesus gets it, too. This is what he’s always dealing with: second-guesses and just-wanting-to-be-sures from his followers. And his response puts the attention back on them and tells them to report what they have observed with their own life experience: miraculous healings, cleansings, and good news brought to the poor. In other words, what John told the Pharisees and Sadducees: fruit worthy of repentance.

    This fits into Jesus’s consistent response when asked for certainty from people who want assurance of salvation — and what we have come to call Jesus Way of Love. And it is probably the most consistent question we all have about faith. We are promised grace and offered a path for living. It’s like a handshake deal in an era of lawyers and legal contracts. We’re just supposed to trust we’re on the right path? Yep.

    No wonder we want assurance! We’re used to people breaking promises or doing what they want, rather than following the Way. We’re just trying to make sense of things. Like students worries about their grade, wanting to know what they’re supposed to study for the test. Clear. Confident. Secure.

    And Jesus has been pretty clear about the Way. What it looks like. How to do it. Love your neighbors and work together. Pair up and heal and proclaim and do good. And the proof will reveal itself.

  • Soft — and the Comfort of the System

    Check this out:

    Jesus turns to the crowds and speaking of John the Baptist, he asks what they expected to see when they went out into the wilderness, flocking to hear this prophet and be baptized by him in the Jordan River — a reed shaking in the wind?

    He is interrogating the people now. This isn’t about John, but their expectations of the prophet. They flocked to him. But now that he’s in prison, where is their enthusiasm?

    People, you went out to see him. Why? What did you expect? And why are you confused now?

    He contrasts the wildness of John with the softness of the royalty. This isn’t about machismo or character, mind you. The insipid toxicity of the modern masculinity conversation is grotesque and distorted. This isn’t that.

    Jesus is talking about location — the safety of power and the insecurity of the wilderness.

    Jesus seems to be pointing to their willingness to seek the Good News in the wilderness while expecting it to look like the insulated power of empire. That they might assume that it should be easy and comfortable to challenge empire. That soft, rational words will be heard as a fair critique of power.

    It is as if the powerful would respond with a similarly soft understanding of decency and generosity. Thank you for bringing this to our attention. I didn’t realize we were committing genocide or abusing our own citizens. We’ll fix that immediately!

    They know this isn’t the way of the world, but they still judge their prophets and excuse their empires.

    It is as if they expect the prophet to be treated like a politician rather than terrorist.

    So do we expect the same? Do we demonize the division that grows when prophets tell us the truth about our security?

    What is it we expect to see? And why doesn’t that expectation match our beliefs?

  • To Be Free We Must Give Up on Violence

    Advent 2A  |  Isaiah 11: 1-10, Matthew 3:1-12

    “A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse,
    and a branch shall grow out of his roots.”

    It is a promise. That the project isn’t done. We aren’t finished, over, dead. There is yet life in that old stump. A shoot, breaking through the fibrous ceiling — a cauterized cut can’t staunch this flow, God’s intentional grace, the will to create, renew, this ever-changing world. Like a blatant disregard for our own weak intentions, to control and dominate, exclude and devastate. It is, for us, no end so final as one God declares. And empires have no gods!

    “He shall not judge by what his eyes see,
    or decide by what his ears hear;”

    The Spirit of GOD rests with the Root of Jesse. He isn’t swayed by mighty forces and their will, their greed, but by the plight of the poor and the meek. It is God’s righteousness that stirs him, empowers him, to draw an end to suffering, to abuse. God’s righteousness that ends the wickedness and deprives the wicked of supremacy.

    No Supremacy

    There are no human kings worthy of God’s Kin-dom. There is room for only him.

    “They will not hurt or destroy
    on all my holy mountain;”

    Not the wolf, the leopard, or the lion. They will lie with the lamb, the kid, and the calf. Not because both sides have come to a compromise, but because God’s glory can’t abide the carnivore’s insatiable appetite. The all-consuming greed, the constant craving for more, is Mammon reverse-anthropomorphized. There is no peace in the world as long as any but Jesus are declared king of the jungle.

    “The cow and the bear shall graze,
    their young shall lie down together;
    and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.”

    For these species to mingle, the carnivores must disarm. Change their ways. Become herbivores. It doesn’t work if the meat-eaters keep eating meat. There can be no peace. Nor is their peace if the herbivores become carnivores. Putting more weapons on the streets fuels violence and destruction. No, this is a one-sided affair. The violent need to disarm. Period. The supremacists need to give up dominance. The genocidal need to give up control. 

    Peace is Risky 

    “The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp,
    and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den.”

    This is how we know peace. When the Root of Jesse has finally accomplished his work. Our children can play without fear. They can attend school without being traumatized or becoming a statistic.

    About this chapter from Isaiah, the late Hebrew scholar Walter Brueggemann wrote: 

    It is impossible to overstate the cruciality of this vision of justice for the coming ideal king, the importance of which is evident in a society like ours, wherein governmental power is largely in the hands of the wealthy and powerful and is operated almost exclusively to their own advantage and benefit. Such an arrangement of public power is a complete contradiction of the biblical vision of government.

    The wealthy and powerful desire to keep their control. To dominate for their benefit, not true peace. It is why we can’t kill for peace any more than we can kidnap for love, torture for effection, or consume for equity.

    John Appears

    It is in this same spirit that John appears from the wilderness, wild-eyed and scruffy, declaring repentance is the gate to righteousness. He is the prophet incarnate, present for the people, describing the injustice of the world, in his camel’s hair and leather belt, eating locusts and wild honey. The right word for him is wild. He is untamed. He preaches: release of the yoke of oppression and offers freedom.

    The people flock to him.

    Like Elvis’s swinging hips or Cobain’s long hair in front of his eyes. It isn’t charisma or desire the people seek: it’s freedom. And like going to a dingy club from the safety of the suburbs, people stream from the walled cities, out into the wilderness to hear this rebellious message of hope, peace, love, like a pre-modern Woodstock.

    There can be no coincidence that freedom comes from within the tradition, but from without of the power structure! For the Temple system loves security more than it longs for hope, peace, and true love, agape. To feel bonded, connected to the fortunes of the person next to us. Like siblings. Children of God. No, much rather embrace our titles which indicate our level of worth to the power structure. It is how we afford the right level of deference and respect. Sir, Doctor, Father ____.

    They Appear

    And right on cue, the Pharisees and Sadducees appear, looking to be included in the baptism of repentance. We don’t know their motivation. Why they are there. What they are looking for. Just that they are. And it surprises John. The message is so clearly to the oppressed and these people aren’t in the same boat. They are responsible for some of the oppression. Not all, mind you. Rome, the empire, is the true source. They are just trying to keep the peace. Go-between.

    John asks: “Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?” And we are probably making excuses for them and wondering ourselves how to make this make sense — not literally, mind you; we aren’t wondering who exactly — because they are entrenched and part of the problem. And yet many of us here are entrenched and part of the problem. We have positions of power, served in organizations that restrict. And we don’t want anyone here to be excluded, right? Isn’t this the point?

    Of course it is. What John describes to them is their common calling. “Bear fruit worthy of repentance.” Let God produce the Good News through you.

    He continues: “Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’”. This hits like a however, a warning. Don’t sit on lineage, culture, or national identity and think that is what matters here. Doing a nice thing and being all “I’m good cause I’m on the right team — my people go back to the root, to Jesse and to long before him. To Abraham. We are chosen. Blessed. The Good Guys. The protagonists, the main characters in this story.

    No, he says to them, I’m the easy one. The one coming after me is the one you should really fear.

    Fear and Awe

    Fear gets a bad rep in our culture. We never want to fear. But fear is more of a neutral thing in scripture. I think it exists a bit like happy. You aren’t supposed to be happy all of the time. It isn’t a neutral state of affairs. You get happy in the same way you get sad. Or scared. Living in a constant state of any one emotion is not good for us.

    Another thing about fear in the Bible is that it is often used like a synonym for awe. When things get big and overwhelming, say, or something unexpected happens. It isn’t a horror movie. Nor is it some bit of political theater. It is usually about getting past our defenses and moving us to see the truth.

    Baptizing with water or fire: they are both symbols of danger. And purity. They can harm and they can heal and renew.

    John isn’t threatening the people. He’s helping them dig deeper. John has come to wash them. Jesus is coming to purify them.

    Maybe that is worth some fear, I suppose. Being burnt through is a threat to the status quo for sure. But it is also how new shoots grow.

    This is Advent

    When we prepare for the coming of the one worthy to be king. The one destined to be of us and of God. The only one able to reject supremacy in all of its forms and root himself in the people, in the children of God. In justice; in grace; in hope; in faith; in love. In greatness and unbounded love of God. He isn’t a lion to tame the other lions; but a man who helps men give up killing and controlling and hoarding the world’s wealth and power. 

    And he is coming again to help us get with the program.

    That is what we’re preparing for. And why we light these candles in the Advent wreath — the first one for hope and the second for peace.

    For peace. For reconciling the world. Turning the carnivores into herbivores. Learning to live side-by-side, not with the assumption that we’re already there, like a colorblind, equal society, for example. But to long for a change in ourselves. In our own hearts. That we will disarm. We will seek peace. Forever changed, purified, freed by the fires of Jesus’s baptism.