December 4, 2011 Sermon by Peter Terpenning
Community United Church of Christ
Boulder, Colorado
“John, the Messenger of Hope”
Isaiah 40:1-11, Mark 1:1-9
John the Baptist doesn’t seem like a Christmas character. He ought to show up later, when Jesus is fully grown and starting his ministry. But every year, on the second Sunday of Advent, we hear his story. In the Gospel of Mark, this is the only Christmas story we get. Mark doesn’t mention the birth, and begins his Gospel with John coming out of the wilderness, preparing the way of the Lord. Mark begins: “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. As it is written in the prophet Isaiah, ‘See, I am sending a my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord’”. When I hear this I inevitably think of the beginning of the play, Godspell, when John the Baptist arrives singing, “Prepare, ye the way of the Lord”
Peter Woods, in a blog this week, pointed out that the Greek word in Isaiah for the one sent to prepare is Appostelo, from which we get our word Apostle. It means emissary or messenger, the one God is sending. The word in Mark for the messenger is Angelon, from which we get the word angel. So we have an angelic emissary, an apostle from God who begins Mark’s gospel, coming before Jesus. This prophet, this emissary, is John. He comes out of the desert, clothed in camel’s hair, with a leather belt, eating locusts and wild honey, and all the people of the land come out to him. Scholars tell us that the people John came to from the whole Judean countryside and from Jerusalem were the poor. They were called, “the people of the land”, the peasants who made up the majority of the Palestinian population. Mark tells us that for these peasants John brought “good news”. Like Isaiah who brought comfort to the exiles in Babylon, promising them God would make a way for them in the wilderness, a road on which to return home. So John told the people of the land that they would have comfort, a message of hope that one was coming from God who would baptize them with the Holy Spirit. John was all about hope. Hope that God was still with the people, and a messenger was coming to show them the way to live –coming with compassion and comfort. John Dominic Crossan points out somewhere that there’s a political edge to people being called out across Jordan to JB. The people, after baptism, then re-enter the Promised Land to reconquer it for God. This time with changed hearts, rather than swords. Crossan notes that it is in some ways a political message; God is offering a new beginning for the poor people of the land.
I like this understanding of John; it makes sense to me that this is a justice message. That is consistent with what I find in the Gospels about Jesus, he a radical figure, a political figure in some ways, one who offers real compassion for real people, freedom from oppression, healing for sick, hope for the poor and year of God’s favor, the Jubilee – forgiveness of debts, return of land, justice and hope. Not just forgiveness of sins and life after death, but concrete hope and a new way to live. Like Isaiah with hope for the exiles, John and Jesus bring concrete hope: “Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill made low; the uneven ground shall become level and the rough places, a plain, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together.”
I ran across an illustration of this concrete, real world hope in a story told by a parish priest in a black township in South Africa, Father Gerard. (Desert Sun, Winter, 2011) It might be called “The unwelcome visitors”. The weary priest forced himself to attend the last part of a school play during the final week of Advent. He told the story: After the wise men had come and gone I noticed the arrival of three more strange characters- one was dressed in rages, hobbling along with a stick. The second was naked except for a tattered pair of shorts and was bound in chains. The third was the most weird. He had a whitened face, wore an unkempt grey wig and an old shirt. As they approached a chorus of men and women cried out, “Close the door, Joseph, they are thieves and vagabonds coming to steal all we have.” But Joseph said, “Everyone has a right to this child, the poor, the rich the unhappy, the untrustworthy. We cannot keep this child for ourselves. Let them enter.” The men entered and stood staring at the child. Joseph picked up the present the magi had left. To the first man he said, “You are poor, take this gold and buy what you need. To the second he said, “You are I chains and I don’t know how to release you. Take this myrrh, it will heal the wounds of your wrists and ankles.” To the third he said, “You mind is in anguish. I cannot heal you. Maybe the aroma of this frankincense will soothe your troubled soul.” Then the first man spoke to Joseph, “Do not give me this gift. Anyone who finds me with this gold will think I have stolen it. And sadly, in a few years, this child will end up as a criminal too.” The second man said, “Do not give me this ointment. Keep it for the child. One day he will be wearing chains like these.” The third man said, “I am lost. I have no faith at all. In the country of my mind there is no God. Let the child keep the incense. He will lose his faith in his Father too.” While Mary and Joseph covered their faces the three men addressed the child. “Little one, you are not from the land of gold and frankincense. You belong to the country of want and disease. You belong to our world. Let us share our things with you.” The first man took off his ragged shirt. “Take these rags. One day you will need them when they rear the garments off your back and you will walk naked.” The second man said, “When I remove these chains I will put them at your side. One day you will wear them, and then you will really know the pain of humanity. The third man said, “I give you my depression, my loss of faith in God and in everything. I can carry it all no longer. Carry my grief and loss with your own.” The three men then walked back out into the night. But the darkness was different. Something had happened in the stable. Their blind pain was diminishing. There had been a kind of epiphany. They were noticing the star now.
The script of this performance was written by a man from Central Africa. The unwelcome visitors now knew that God was somehow present in an innocent child who was already destined to be one like them –in all their poverty, pain, depravity and sin. And they also began to believe what we all resist, that this birth in a messy stable was the manger of hope, for themselves and the world.
John the Baptist and Jesus are messengers of hope for the real world, the world that includes peace and war, non-violence and violence, comfort and poverty, health and disease, mental health and depression and security and desperation. We are the ones who must make John’s vision of hope a reality – but Jesus showed us the way. A way of compassion and the peace of God’s comfort and presence.