John the Baptist, Holiness, and Joy

 

12 December 2021: Advent 3 (Year of Luke).

 

Gathering Prayer

God for whom we watch and wait,

you sent John the Baptist to prepare the way of your Son.

Give us courage to speak the truth,

to hunger for justice,

and to suffer for the cause of right,

with Jesus Christ our Lord.

First Reading (Old/Original Testament): Zephaniah 3:14-20

Canticle (in place of a Psalm): Isaiah 12:2-6

New Testament Reading: Philippians 4:4-7

Gospel: Luke 3:7-18

Reflection

Today’ theme is not hidden from us. Today’s theme is obvious. Today’s theme is John the Baptist. His name in Hebrew was Yochanan. His name in Greek is Ioannes. His name tells us something about the mercy, the grace, the kindness (or even the beauty) of God.

What do we know about John the Baptist?...

Between us, we know that he was a relative of Jesus, his cousin.

He was a priest. As the son of the priest, Zechariah, he was a priest.

He felt compelled to go into the desert. There he wore rough clothing, and ate something that got called “locusts” and something that got called “wild honey”. He came back from the desert, with a message from God. Thus we Christians say: he was a prophet. Jesus at one point says he was more than a prophet, but only after he has said he was a prophet: he was a prophet, and more.

He preached (prophesied) what we’d have to call a fierce message. That the people of faith (the people of the covenant) had lost their way, had fallen into disobedience. They needed to “repent”. This means: they really need to turn around, 180 degrees. They needed – we might say – to start again with their lives. He gave some concrete examples of this (as we have just heard), speaking to soldiers and tax-collectors.

The good news here is that he insisted you could turn your life around. You could do this, by an act of ritual washing. This washing was not a little dab of water, nor a hand-washing splash, but full immersion. You go all the way under. So it’s also a ritual drowning. Let’s not hide that – it is as dramatic as that.

Given all that we’ve said, it’s no surprise that he got into trouble with the authorities. Indeed, he ended up being imprisoned and killed by the powers-that-be. His cousin Jesus could only take to heart how dangerous speaking out – being a prophet – really is.

Here is a question which is not all that easily answered. One that is not all that often asked, truth to tell:

Was John the Baptist a Christian?

I don’t mean: did he call himself a Christian? We are pretty sure he didn’t. The word “Christian” comes later than the lives of John and Jesus. But did he ever actually consider himself – and become – a disciple of Jesus? We are not told. It’s actually tantalising. John gets his disciples to ask Jesus if he is the One who is to come. Jesus replies: look around you. And John receives this message, and thinks…

Well, if he ever had time to think (as he was soon to be killed), the gospels do not tell us what conclusions he drew. They do not tell us if John was convinced that Jesus is the One who was to come.

And yet, even given this ignorance of ours (this ignorance of the Church), we boldly call John the Baptist a “saint”. Without him, the story of Jesus would not be what it is. He is a necessary part of the story of Jesus. He is part of the Christian story. And of course, in this he is not alone. We can – we must – say the same of

·        Miriam and Moses,

·        Sarah and Abraham,

·        the Prophets Deborah and Isaiah,

·        the heroes Esther and David, and so on.

The ancestors from what we know as the “Old Testament”.(1)

I suggest there is a message for us in this, precisely for today. We might summarise it as “whoever is not against us is for us”. But maybe that’s too simple. Certainly, though, we can say: some – many – who are not explicitly in our in-group can be blessed with a holiness we need to learn from. God distributes holiness as God chooses, and not as we’d plan things. So we can – we must – expect holiness in unexpected places.

Today, then, we mark a Prophet never known to be a Christian, that great saint revered in the Church, Saint John the Baptist.

***

There is a secondary theme today. We are roughly in the middle of Advent. Advent is – as I’ve said, though it sounded weird then, as it sounds weird now – a season of reflection, and even of going-without, to help us reflect on where we are in our walk with God. (We go without good things, not to feel bad about ourselves, but to check how dependent we are on our comforts, as a way of seeing where God truly is in our lives.)

In the middle of these seasons of reflection and penitence – Advent, Lent – we take a break. We have a breather. Indeed, even the colour in Church can change, from purple to… rose. Look… We have half managed this today (thanks to a friend lending us their supply of rose). Rose – or pink, to use the normal English word – is close to purple, but lighter. This is a day we can lighten our load. Hay, today is a day when even those who are keeping Advent might allow themselves a mince pie!

Closely related to this is another name for today. Today is Gaudete Sunday – which just means Rejoice Sunday. And that’s because of our second reading, deliberately chosen for today, for our rose – our pink - day. Let us hear from it again:

“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.”

How can St Paul - how can anyone – command anyone to “rejoice”? Surely joy is something that comes when it comes. Sometimes – not least in this place – sometimes joy is hard or even impossible to find. I get it. It’s a good point. I tend to put it this way: we do have a duty to do what we can to be ready for joy, to “orient” our lives towards the joy that is, in truth, our birthright.

And there is one hint about how to do that, within the text from St Paul: he tells us to make our requests always “with thanksgiving”. Always give thanks. There is always something to give thanks for. Give thanks for the sheer fact that you are alive. Give thanks that God promises to be with you. Give thanks for the fact that when you give thanks to God, you will be heard. These are good places to start.

So, not as a stern command, but rather as an invitation, today is also a day when we might, in all gentleness tell ourselves: “Rejoice; again I say: rejoice!”

Amen.

(1) In the Orthodox Calendar (New Style) this Sunday in Advent is the Sunday of the Forefathers. 

Prayer from Common Worship: Additional Collects, © 2017, Archbishops Council.

 

One Sent From Gd...

 

Sermon. St Michael and All Angels, Little Ilford. 13.12.20

Advent 3: Gaudete (Year B)

John 1.6-8, 19-28

Today’s Gospel is full of negatives and absences. What a way to begin! I really don’t wish to lower the mood – the Gaudete mood. I know we all need comfort and hope, and a reliable supply of both and more, in these days. And there are, of course, good things in today’s Gospel. But, at a rather technical level, today’s Gospel is full of negatives and absences.

Negatives.

Let’s recall John’s dialogue with those sent from Jerusalem to Bethany, across the Jordan:

J: “I am not the Messiah!”

O: “Are you Elijah?” J: “I am not.”

O: “Are you the prophet?” J: “No.”

This ever-more brutal exchange is consistent with what the Evangelist has already told us:

“He was not the Light.”

We are being led to see who John the Baptist is not, and thus already being nudged to think that there is one for whom all these negatives will fall away.

And, on cue, the Baptist says as much:

“I baptise with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me. I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.”

I think this is carefully crafted. I think the hearers of this tale are meant to feel intrigue, excitement. Who is this one? This one we know not, but who is already among us?

Do we feel that excitement? I think it’s unlikely. For most of us, we’ve heard – we’ve read – the story many times, from start to finish. And let me add, that is fine. The Gospels were written to be heard, over and over. If we are comfortable with the story, all is well.

Yet, where we cannot necessarily feel intrigue or excitement, we may yet wonder - wonder if there isn’t here an invitation to hear the story anew. We know the name of the one who is already among us. His name is Jesus. We know him, know aspects of him. He is no stranger. We need not pretend he is. And yet, do we know him as well as we could? Is he not in many ways still strange to us? Might we as-it-were start again: begin a new journey of getting to know

·        the one who changes everything, who is already among us;

·        the one who is already among us, who changes everything?  

*

And so, from the negative to the absence. I suspect you have already sensed that today’s Gospel reading is a real cut-and-paste-and-cut-and-paste job. If you look at the chapter and verses, this is confirmed, What we have are two separate excerpts taken out of the opening of John’s Gospel. And we may well have at the back of our minds the texts in that opening which are absent today. Here are some of them:

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with Gd, and the Word was Gd…

In [this one] was life, and the life was the light of the world. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it…

The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory…”

That’s all rather different from the tale of intrigue. This isn’t a story of people pointing to people. This is a grander-scale narrative, a panorama, a view of everything, of all that this. The themes are creation, and the nature of Gd. And it is not prose, but poetry.  

How then does it all fit together? Is it meant to? Or did the writer, or some later scribe, make a mistake? I am confident that they are meant to fit together. We hear of the origins of the universe and the nature of Gd. But before we have any chance to fool ourselves we’ve taken it seriously in, we change focus. And this too is carefully crafted. Intentionally, we are led from the telescope to the microscope.

“There came a person, sent from Gd; John, his name.”

What do we learn from this? I will put it slightly challengingly: we learn that Gd does not care about humanity! I mean: Gd does not care about “humanity” in the abstract. Gd cares only for human beings in particular.

·        For you.

·        For me.

·        For the person next to you.

·        For the person impossibly distant from you, in all possible ways.

·        For the ones you love.

·        And… for the ones you can’t stand.

We human beings cannot sustain that loving attention for literally billions of people. But, then, we are not Gd. Gd is Gd. And Gd does not care for “humanity”, but for human beings. From the absence, we learn this.

“There came a person, sent from Gd, John, his name.” And, being sent from Gd, his presence makes all the difference. This one is the very herald who says the Word-made-flesh is already among us, sometimes known, sometimes (more often, perhaps) not known.

So, indeed, today is Gaudete Sunday. Today is a day of rejoicing, albeit it of gentle rejoicing. Today is our pink (or, as we are perhaps learning to say, our “Rose” day). We are in the middle of our Advent “fast” (how’s that going, brothers and sisters?)! Better put: we are in the middle of our Advent reflections and preparations, leading up to Christmas. And here we relax any restraint we’ve put ourselves under. We, in a gentle and understated way, anticipate Christmas.

“There came a person, sent from Gd, John, his name.” And, being sent from Gd, his presence makes all the difference.

Sisters and brothers, I repeat a theme I have brought before. And I make not the slightest apology for the repetition. (You may chide me, but I will not budge.) What is said of John, can be said of you. You may think of your name; I invite you to.

“There came a person, sent from Gd, their name was [Name]. And, being sent from Gd, their presence makes all the difference.”

And, today, I am not even going to set you (to set us) the task of thinking about all the ways we might be sent from Gd into the world. There is of course a time for that. Of course, being sent from Gd implicates us in a task. Yes, vocation is a task,  a burden even. Yes, further: hardship and risk and danger and sacrifice are all involved. But! But, today (anticipating Christmas) I say: even before and outside of that task, if we are in the world (and here we are), we are sent from Gd. Our very being is sent-from-Gd.

“There came a person, sent from Gd, their name was [Name]. And, being sent from Gd, their presence makes all the difference.”

Gaudete! Let us rejoice! Amen.