Advent 2A 2019
Romans 15:4-13
Matthew 3:1-12
The Rev. Dr. Kathy Kelly
I once got to hear a great preacher who traveled a long way to our church. He was an old friend of the rector who invited him to speak and even though none of us had ever heard of him, he drew a really big crowd.
Stephen was a clean cut, 50-something, average looking guy in khakis and an open collar which was different from what I had expected. His head shot in the promo was of a pressed and polished priest in full clericals and his professional bio listed him in the high company of bishops and archbishops and the talk circuit headliners. I was glad I got there early to get a seat.
Stephen began with a story about himself from an earlier time in his life. This was to set the stage for talking about how to draw new members to church. He told us of his entry to the church. He didn’t grow up in the church and chose the faith as an adult.
He said that in the 1960s he married quite young and he and his wife ventured into that “living off of the land” trend of the time. They had a baby early in the marriage and when the child was still in arms, they moved to a small town in Alabama. They got a little house and set up a vegetable garden and studied herbology and such. His wife had a loom and he was working on his carpentry skills while finishing his PhD dissertation. They wore natural clothes made only from 100% cotton or wool and they both wore their hair really long. He also wore a full beard which accented his blue eyes and helped protect his fair skin.
After some time, the couple, who had never been to church, decided to check out the local Baptist church. Stephen didn’t elaborate but I imagined they wanted to become more a part of a community or get to know their neighbors better or study the Christian response to the social justice activism which was important to them. Or maybe they were just seeking a spiritual home.
They were swamped with welcome that first Sunday. The young family enjoyed all the attention, enjoyed the service and happily stayed for coffee hour.
Then, a small group of ladies approached them with some suggestions of how to get involved. You see, it was the third Sunday of Lent and they still didn’t have someone to play Jesus for their passion play on Palm Sunday. And Stephen looked just like Sallman’s portrait of Jesus!
And so, Stephen was type cast into the role of Jesus and on his fourth time ever going to church he found himself in white robes, riding an actual, real donkey down the aisle.
After he told us this story, the 50-something, years-later Stephen challenged us to spend some time pondering the ways we stereotype each other, especially newcomers. One of the comments he made was the old adage that “perhaps it’s not who you are but who you look like that matters.”
Perhaps we do use stereotypes too much in church. I think in many ways we have stereotyped John the Baptist. We focus on what we imagine he looked like. We have trouble seeing him as the Prophet of the Most High.
One writer imagining this said that “if John the Baptist were a member of (my) family, he’d be that loud uncle you invite to holiday gatherings with the secret hope that he’ll decline.” John was different, to put it nicely. He ate bugs, wore clothes made of camel hair, and talked loudly of radical ideas.
But if you got to know John, you’d quickly realize something important about the man: he was authentic. John was not radical for radical’s sake - he didn’t do these things for shock value or to garner attention from others. John lived differently than everyone else because, unlike everyone else, his single mission was made clear from the moment of his birth. As his father Zechariah prophesied: “you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins.” (Luke 1:76-77). John’s job was to proclaim Jesus - the God-made-man who was also his cousin - and John devoted his life to Him, right down to the his choice of what we would now call “natural” attire and "organic cuisine.”
There is a new archetype in our culture, I think, and that is of the postmodern tour guide. We’ve had guides for centuries from Sacagawea to Harriett Tubman to the guide who welcomes Marine recruits to Reception Week prior to sending them to boot camp. And then there’s Tour guide Barbie who in Toy Story 2 jumped into her convertible and said, “I’m Tour Guide Barbie! Please keep your hands, arms, and accessories in the car, and no flash photography. Thank you!”
At one time in own my life, I wanted to become a realtor. Relational as I am, I loved the idea of connecting people with their dream home. But when I realized the business of Real Estate is really sales and brokerage I realized selling houses was definitely not for me.
But still I love the idea of showing homes. The tour guide part of the job.
I remember a couple of times in my life when I was put in charge of a tour. One time it was a Christmas tour of historic homes, another time the campus tour for new student orientation and many times taking some visitor through the tour of the church I was serving.
My family recently went on a tour of the Biltmore and my niece, who works in the flower department there kept showing us hidden doors and back entrances which Mr. Vanderbilt had put in so that he could both escape and check on his guests.
What kind of tour guide are you?
In movies and TV shows these days, you often see the tour guide role done by a robot or a hologram. We’ve been playing with this science fiction image for decades and apparently it has come to be. In futuristic movies, the protagonist is desperate and in a hurry to either get away from or find the bad guy when he encounters this hologram, which looks like an attractive uniformed staff person and the protagonist tries to get answers to find only a robotic smile and “have a nice day” trite. It’s almost funny but it’s really about our distrust of robots.
This reminds me that today’s world seems crazy. I think that the experience of the world as crazy comes from a fear of losing the human connections that have always guided us. We need to lead each other. Are robots and computer generated holograms really the best at showing us the way? Perhaps we need to leave that to real humans who know the hiding places and escape routes.
If we were to take this reading from Isaiah too literally, we might think we serve a crazy God, one who would put lambs in the same pen with wolves and infants next to snake pits and expect everything to turn out O.K.
John the Baptist seems crazy too. This story, of how God became one of us in Jesus has some really weird twists and turns like birthing a baby in a stable and the King crucified as a criminal not to mention that coming back to life part. But the prophet who comes to foretell this, the greatest prophesy of all time, is living in the wild. He is hairy and dirty and wearing animal skins like some neanderthal and living on bugs and honey!
He seems crazy!
Why wouldn’t God send somebody posh and chic? Maybe someone more approachable. I think I’d rather have a hologram of some useless, too smiley fake girl in a uniform! I’m not sure I would follow this wild man.
But crowds of people flocked to the river to be baptized by John. I wonder how they took him? He seems scary and rough. Yet this is the the one who will guide us to the messiah.
For the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord
as the waters cover the sea. Says Isaiah.
On that day the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples; the nations shall inquire of him, and his dwelling shall be glorious.
For the Earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord.
And a little child will lead them . . .
That little child, presumably a young boy, was leading the calfs and lions who had laid down in peace together. He was leading them to their food and water and shelter. This is not a reference to Jesus as a child - or even King David as a young shepherd - as we often interpret the poem. It is simply a metaphor of the simplicity of life in Christ. In this time of peace for which we wait, even young children will manage wild beasts.
If we really believe in the Prince of Peace, we believe that we can live in peace even with our worst enemy.
I’m not so sure we’re ready for that.
The lamb is food for the wolf, the calf is food for the lion. And we too treat each other like the food chain. We feed on each other’s anxiety and defensiveness and become embattled.
Isaiah is the great prophet who foretold that there would come a King who would bring this sort of peace, one with whom we can lay down our weapons and rest beside our enemies. One in which there are, in fact no more enemies.
Do you believe it? Do we still hope for this?
John the Baptist, the prophet of the Most High, brings the same message as Isaiah. But with a twist. John calls us out on our sloth as well as our warring. John calls us to repent, to turn around and to get ready for the Prince of Peace who comes after him. John baptizes with water and proclaims loudly that Jesus will baptize with fire. It’s hard not to take this guy seriously.
But we, instead tend to laugh at John. We see the oddness in this character. We see a crazy acting man living in the wilderness with wild hair. We imagine him as stinky and loud and scary and we laugh. We think of John as the announcer or the warm up band and pass over him to get to the good part of the story.
The part about Jesus, our savior.
Maybe we do this because we don’t really want to face our need for repentance. Maybe John seems too serious. Too scary. Too wild.
But John was joyful too. He leapt for joy in his mother’s womb when Mary and Elizabeth shared their joy and sang songs of joy. John was joyful too when he called his followers, peaching the Good News with excitement. John’s ultimate joy came that day his Lord came to the river to also be baptized.
So friends, for the Second Sunday of Advent this year, instead of focusing on the weirdness of John, instead of focusing on the sternness of this prophet who calls those church leaders a “brood of vipers,” instead of only talking about that repentance part, this year I want to invite you to think of the story of John a little bit differently.
Let’s all try to emulate John.
Let’s all become tour guides of the faith.
Let us too be prophets of the Most High. Bearers of light in the darkness.
Invite friends to church. Welcome newcomers and visitors with excitement. Live into the joy of our faith and show that joy to others. Give to those around you a tour of the spiritual house within your heart. Be like a little child who can lead even mortal enemies to peace. Be brave enough to welcome, even follow, the stranger, even if they seem weird. Be open and willing to be stereotyped as a crazy Christian, even if it means riding a donkey down the aisle.
Amen.