Terrors and Wonders: For Which Are You Waiting?
I had the responsibility of saying a few words from the pulpit yesterday for one of our congregations. Here is an edited version of my sermon for the Lectionary gospel reading Luke 3:7-18.
John said to the crowds that came out to be baptized by him, ‘You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruits worthy of repentance. Do not begin to say to yourselves, “We have Abraham as our ancestor”; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.’
And the crowds asked him, ‘What then should we do?’ In reply he said to them, ‘Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.’ Even tax-collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him, ‘Teacher, what should we do?’ He said to them, ‘Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.’ Soldiers also asked him, ‘And we, what should we do?’ He said to them, ‘Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.’
As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, John answered all of them by saying, ‘I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing-fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing-floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.’
So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people.
As I think about the bacterial polarization that thrives in our country, and in some parts of the world, I wonder what antibiotic will be strong enough to knock it out this time. History is full of treatments that often include violence even when the salve of religion has been applied; sometimes because religion has been applied. As we wander through Advent one of the epiphanies for me is that community, community embraced for it’s blessed messiness rather than its Stepford orderliness, might be the best antibiotic for bacterial polarization. And because blessed messy community might be the best antibiotic, I think there has never been a time better than right now for our denomination, for our brand of Christian witness, to invite our neighbors, co-workers, friends, and strangers on the street to worship.
We are not like other denominations. The Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) celebrates a spirituality embodied by service and study, to strengthen and enrich faith. We have an inclusive spirit: inviting everyone to the table without a litmus test of baptism nor do we require affirmation of creedal statement of faith. Now is the time for our way of balancing belief and practice to say, “You are welcome here. If you are searching for faith, for community, for a place to worship and serve God, try us.” Disciples, have you invited someone to worship this Advent season? Why not?
Disciples share God’s story, and our own, trusting that God is acting in our time and in our lives. Disciples don’t claim to have “the answers” to life’s hard questions. We do not offer “easy answers” or an understanding of God’s grace or blessing that is based on your level of financial giving. We Disciples are not “the antibiotic,” but we might be called to be the petri dish that allows a treatment to grow.
Some of us come to worship with questions that are birthed from fear, grief and broken hearts that are best answered with hugs of reassurance, and smiles that tell us we are not alone on this journey. Our Nation’s questions about equality for all and justice for all require citizens to reflect on and alter our behavior and change our local communities. For Christians, we must continually revisit our practice of the way of Jesus who confronts his disciples with, “Love God and love your neighbor as yourself.”
Some of us come to worship filled with joy, but often we don’t know how to express it. I don’t know what brought you to worship today or what you carried into the sanctuary this morning on your heart or in your mind. What I do know is that all of us come to worship seeking to hear and experience the gospel, the good news that the Lord’s mercies never cease;
that the Lord’s mercy is new every morning;
and the Lord’s faithfulness extends beyond our ability to see in a mirror dimly, and recognize the image of God in others as well as in our own face.
So, here we are three weeks into Advent. Our devices, computers, news papers, magazines, TV and radio give us instant access to all the terrors and wonders in the world; and out there in the stars. We heard an atypical gospel reading for Advent because the chronological plot that began the story about Jesus of Nazareth, and another Christian year, has us waiting for John and Jesus to be born, but here we are in the wilderness with an adult John shouting insults at us and proclaiming the good news. Reading the bible is often like being a time traveler, or being an extra in an episode of Quantum Leap, the Twilight Zone, or Dr. Who.
Somehow, on our annual pilgrimage to Bethlehem, we are drawn into the wilderness at John’s invitation to repentance and baptism. This wilderness repentance rant begins back at chapter 3, verse 3, and the tone is similar to that of my parents scolding me for my inability to follow the house rules. I would argue back, “But I was . . .”
“No, no, be quiet. This is the time for you to listen. We don’t want to hear another word from you.” Minutes would pass as mom or pop went on about my latest infraction. Then, when I was asked a question there was an awkward silence because I was confused by the last instruction I heard. “I don’t want to hear another word from you.” “Michael Jr, we just asked you a question. Answer me!” That’s the tone, I imagine of this wilderness scene with John.
Some of the people in the wilderness that day are just onlookers. They followed neighbors or friends out to see what all the fuss is about. You know, like slowing down to see the accident or stepping out when you here sirens in your neighborhood, or not being able to turn off the wall to wall coverage of the latest bombing or shooting or health scare. We never get 24hr coverage of joy in the world.
How would we see the world after 24hrs of “joy coverage?” Could we stomach it the way we do the violence and the crisis? I don’t know, unreasonableness for profit seems to be what we are waiting for at breakfast, lunch, and dinner these days.
Advent is liminal time. Liminal is an adjective that means “a transitional or initial stage of a process occupying a position at, or on both sides of a boundary or threshold.” When you look around, it feels like we are in that kind of time when our better selves, our best nature, might be silenced for a long, long time and the fever, coughing, difficultly breathing, blurry eyes of polarization are just the way it’s going to be. It’s what the politicians and the pundit class call the “new normal.”
Liminal: “a position at, or on both sides of a boundary or threshold.” This is a way of describing the already, but not yet, nature of the kindom of God. Christianity has been, too often, “of this world” of imperial rule and colonization: of kingdom. Only in times of natural disaster are we “in the world” that embraces the kinship we naturally share and which God sees and calls good.
We have access to terrors and wonders. For which are you waiting? Like the crowds we shout back to John, “What then should we do? How can we keep bacterial polarization from becoming a super bug? John answers: personal and communal repentance. But it’s Advent? Repentance and all that liturgy, emotion and discipline we save for Lent and Easter. Remember, John the baptizer is a practicing Jew. In Judaism, repentance includes feeling sorry, but there is more to it than a humble and contrite heart. It’s more than the “been there, done that, got the t-shirt, walk off” conversion and baptism experience promoted by Christianity. Yes, we promote ongoing confession, but like guilt, confession is only good once as a motivator to change. After that, like guilt, it is just baggage we carry around with us the rest of our lives. Repentance is about turning away from collusion with the old ways and seeing the new world that God is bringing. More important than seeing this new world, an act of repentance is living in God’s ways in preparation for the new world.
Rev. Dr. Ron Allen, Professor of Preaching and Gospels, at Christian Theological Seminary describes it like this:
“. . . buried deep at the center of John’s preaching is a conviction that is as true today as when John spoke it: Our attitudes and behaviors bear consequences. If we go along with dishonesty, injustice, exploitation, violence, and death, we can expect our personal lives, and our social worlds to be stained by dishonesty, injustice, exploitation, violence, and death.”
(Rev. Dr. Ron Allen, Sermon on Luke 3:7-18, December 2003).
The kind of repentance that John is preaching, and that Jesus taught, is hard for individuals to do. It is exponentially harder for institutional systems to do.
But it’s Advent. Anything is possible when we incarnate hope, peace, joy, and love as acts of repentance.
It’s Advent. We might become a communal antibiotic that God is cultivating for a time such as this.
It’s Advent. Sometimes, all we can do for Christmas is go to the Magic Monastery.
They have a Brother there who was one of the shepherds who first greeted the Christ Child. Of course this Brother is very old now, but when you hear him play his flute, you will become very young. (Be careful. You may do something silly.)
The three Wise Men are there also. Each Christmas one of them will give the sermon. Listen very carefully. You may have difficulty with his language, but that is because he is so wise and you are so foolish. I thought he was superficial, talking about incense on Christmas. It was only later that I realized he had been talking about the Real incense, and now I can smell that wherever I go. Perhaps when you go there he will be speaking about the real gold, or the real myrrh.
And then there are the angels. You’ll hear them singing. What shall I say? It’s God’s music. It gets into your bones. Nothing is the same afterwards.
But all of this is nothing. What really matters is when the Word becomes flesh. Wait till you experience that.
(Theophane the Monk. Tales of a Magic Monastery, Crossroad Publishing, 1994, p. 92.)