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December
12, 2004 (Jimmie Johnson) Isaiah 35:1-10 The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing. The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it, the majesty of Carmel and Sharon. They shall see the glory of the LORD, the majesty of our God. Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees. Say to those who are of a fearful heart, “Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God. He will come with vengeance, with terrible recompense. He will come and save you.” Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy. For waters shall break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert; the burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water; the haunt of jackals shall become a swamp, the grass shall become reeds and rushes. A highway shall be there, and it shall be called the Holy Way; the unclean shall not travel on it, but it shall be for God’s people; no traveler, not even fools, shall go astray. No lion shall be there, nor shall any ravenous beast come up on it; they shall not be found there, but the redeemed shall walk there. And the ransomed of the LORD shall return, and come to Zion with singing; everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Matthew 11:2-11 When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.” As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: “What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written, ‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.’ Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ON THIS THIRD Sunday of Advent Matthew’s Gospel again brings us into the company of our ornery, bug-eating friend, John the Baptizer, speaking this time not as a voice in the wilderness but as an unseen sender from jail. Earlier Matthew alludes to the arrest of John the Baptizer, but as of yet we have no other details about John’s situation. Matthew assumes we understand the prophetic risks, the cost of speaking truth to power. Even in jail with bug bites and all, John is stirring up the water, unsettling the peace. Such is the role of a prophet, and John is a prophet among prophets. Christ says of John: “Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist.” But there is a difference in this encounter. John’s proclamations have turned into questioning: are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another? We cannot hear the intonation of his voice or the deeper motives of these questions. I wonder what has generated this doubt from such a prophet among prophets, from one so certain upon first sight of who Jesus was. Where have these seeds been planted? Are these words of frustration? Are they born of unmet expectations? Was John hoping for a more aggressive Messiah, an enforcer Jesus, a Clint Eastwood in sandals, “Saying do you feel repentant punk? Do you?” Was John hoping for this enforcer Jesus to be wielding a fiery winnowing fork, cleaning house, taking care of business, blasting away Roman evildoers and corrupt religious elite? Was he hoping for one that would restore the earth rule of the Davidic Dynasty? Is it less about revenge and more about impatience from one who feels that having done more than his part is now ready to have God finish God’s part? Is it genuine longing for the coming fullness of God’s future? Or does John ask in fear because his life is at risk and he is scared, doubting his faith, questioning his hope in a future found in God? The light of hope can appear dim from the darkness of jail. Regardless of the source and intonation of the questioning, Jesus’ cantankerous cousin is sure what’s going on. And it’s not surprising that John’s own words, John’s own very own expectations are drawn from scripture, and he has worked to do his part, and yet this messiah isn’t what John expects. Perhaps he isn’t what he wants. From his prison cell, the cell of mortar and stone, of mortality and humanity, he cries out in doubt, in questioning. And so the message comes. Are you the one who is to come? Or are we to wait for another? How familiar this question rings in my ears? How easily the words have appeared on my own lips. How certain I am of their repetition. While the sources of such questions vary, I am not alone in such questioning. Such fears and questions are throughout this life, throughout the scripture and psalms. There are times when we look around and ask such deep questions of Jesus, of God, of life and love. These are words of the psalmist, the words of lament. Looking around the world, we have such questions come to mind. There are times in our lives when the prisons of our own humanness wall us in. The stones of our own failures block the son’s shining. The bars of fear, loneliness, anxiety, and far worse prevent us from seeing a future. There are times for some when darkness runs so deeply that the very notion of a God of grace and love runs crossways against a self esteem that cannot forgive itself and that the very good news of grace comes as salt upon a wound. And so come the questions. Are you the one who is to come? Or are we to wait for another? Some religiosity would see doubt as a rejection, as infidelity and betrayal. It would see such questions as a falling away. Yet I have experienced and would argue that these questions are not signs of infidelity or betrayal or weakness or even faithlessness, but are out of our humanness. I do not seek out such times in my life, yet I try not to allow the fear to rule me or guilt to silence me. Such questions can be doors of discernment, faith seeking understanding, a quest for a light in the dark of a cell. As John asks and we perhaps ourselves ask, Christ responds, but not in a way that perhaps John was expecting. On this Sunday of Advent we are reminded that God’s mysterious and decisive work in Jesus Christ may not be what we expect either. Christ tells John’s disciples to go tell John what they see and what they hear. Jesus himself draws from scripture, connecting himself to the same tradition that John was connected to, proclaiming perhaps something new, something that is unsettling and larger than what John or we ourselves can imagine. Jesus proclaims that the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the diseased are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. Jesus proclaims a reality in God that is a movement from death to creation from brokenness to reconciliation, a past, present, and future claimed and shaped by God, one that is unsettling in scope and unexpected in its grace. The disciples return to John. We do not learn of John’s response to Christ’s message. I want to imagine that John heard these words of scripture and in them heard a hope, a hope not based in his own expectations of God but in the unexpected grace of God that proclaims new life in the midst of death, heralds a future that belongs to God and is in God, a hope that is larger than any words or emotions can fully handle, a hope held by John’s disciples and then given to John himself in the midst of his own doubt and questions. Now, honestly, I almost missed the Good News of this text! With my own theological doubts and questions and with my own preoccupations with Christmas preparations, the movement of God’s grace almost went by unnoticed. It even came at me three times, twice in the kind words of parishioners, visiting me with simple words of welcome and kindness, and finally in the words of a loved one, spoken across the miles, who reminded me of the times in my life that hope has been borne to me, carried for me by others. When we cannot see it or even hold it ourselves, the good news of Christ’s words and Christ’s actions, the very hope that is God, comes to us from others. In our text Christ sends John’s disciples back to John as vessels of God’s grace and hope to John. As one who stands on the human side of God’s future, there are times when questions, even searching and hope become silenced by the clouds of death. So, I am reminded that I stand as one in need of a humility of faith, one who needs a hope based not in my own abilities, not even in my own expectations of who God is but the transformative hope that is from God, in Christ and carried to me and for me when I cannot carry it myself. Christian hope is hard fought. Christian hope is at times painfully realistic and different from blind optimism. It runs deeper, must be tougher. It isn’t based, therefore, on human terms, in our own optimistic ability to read the mind of God or achieve it on our own. Christian hope finds its beginning and end in God. There are also times when Christian hope is elusive; it runs silent and runs deep. There are times when we question our hope, for the walls of our humanness are too high and we cannot see out. Friends, it is then in the darkness in our crying out that I give thanks for you, for we are called to be vessels of hope for one another. During times when the pain is too fresh and the wound too deep to hold out our own hope, the community of faith becomes messengers to one another, bringing words from Christ, words of hope in a future that is God’s. Let us always remember that because of who God is, we are vessels and messengers of hope for one another, that we might be about the telling of the good news that we see and hear. |
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