Luke 3:1-6
In the 57th year of the reign of Queen Elizabeth II, when Barack was President of the U.S. and Hamid was ruler of Afghanistan, and Pat was Governor of Illinois, during the time that Katherine presided over the Episcopal Church, during the Episcopacy of Jeffrey, the Word of God came to Jim, son of Buck, on the North Shore of Chicago, on the Second Sunday in Advent. Anyone reading or hearing these words would know the basic time and location that is referenced by them.
So it is with the words from Luke in this morning’s Gospel: In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. Luke situates his account of John, son of Zechariah, in time and place with his recitation of the various rulers of the day. By doing so, Luke makes clear this is not just the ramblings of some imaginative free spirit but, rather a real, historical, look-these-names-up in a book account of God working in the world, taking heed of the cries of the people and responding to their need and pain and sufferings.
I’m glad that we can tell exactly the time that Luke is writing about. It’s easy, in this short—4 week—season of Advent, to get confused about the sequence of events. It seems as though time goes in reverse during the season of Advent—at least according to the Gospel readings. Last week the reading was about the eventual second coming of Christ and Jesus’ parable of the fig tree and reading the signs of things to come. This week, even though we hear the Song of Zechariah, John’s father in Canticle 16 in place of a psalm in which Zechariah, answering the question, “What then will this child become?” sings to his son, “And 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,” in the third chapter of Luke from which the Gospel comes, it is already 29 years later and John bursts on the scene in the wilderness, not jumping for joy as he did in his mother’s womb upon meeting Mary and her baby—a story, as time continues to travel backwards, we’ll hear in a couple of weeks—but rather as a prophet just as his father foretold.
Luke uses the words of another prophet, Isaiah, to describe John’s dramatic preaching about preparing the way of the Lord, filled valleys, mountains and hills made low, the crooked made straight and the rough places made smooth.
It is here that we—in our preparation—can hear echoes of Isaiah’s words that begin the servant song that Luke utilizes “Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.” Everyone it seems wants Christmas—that Holy Day that Advent points to—to be meaningful, but instead it ends up shop, shop, shop, credit cards, traffic jams, to do lists, useless gifts, then off to church to worship, or maybe, to just survive. Thank God for Advent, because while we are shopping, decorating, preparing for parties, the church is also preparing for, not a holiday but, rather, a Holy Day. Jesus said, “Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place;” John the Baptist preaches repentance—literally, turning around, turning from the ways of the world and turning to the ways of God. John goes before the Lord to give knowledge of salvation to his people, and that all flesh will see the salvation of God. So the preparing of the way, the leveling of the land and straightening of the paths is for the salvation of all of God’s children.
How can we respond to John and Jesus? How can we be partners in the mission of God—salvation for all? Three weeks ago I asked us to think about being a blessing community as a way in which we could be missional in our intent. I suggested that we need to incarnate God in our lives and to be intentional in relating to one another in our community and outside of our community. I asked us to practice what I had in mind as far as being a blessing community and I need to thank you for being willing to try what I was asking. You may be interested to hear that since then many people—it may be upwards of 30, I never thought to count—have told me that while they never actually got to the blessing part of the assignment, they met someone new to them in the congregation and how much they enjoyed that. I couldn’t be more pleased, I wanted us to practice being a blessing community—notice there are two words there—blessing and community, it is very much a blessing that new relationships were begun in the community. I mention this because I believe being missional in our approach to being community, being the church, is what is called for in Advent and Christmas—an antidote if you will for the stress and pain and suffering of the craziness that is the “holiday season.”
There is an amazing movement afoot in the Christian community called Advent Conspiracy, a movement that is certain that Christmas can [still] change the world, just as the world was changed by the first Christmas. The concept behind Advent Conspiracy is simple: Worship fully, Spend less, Give more, and Love all. By worshipping fully, we enter into a season where we are called to put down our burdens and lift up a song to God. It’s a season where love wins, peace reigns, and a king is celebrated with every breath. Americans spend $450B every year for Xmas—every year! $450B on the sweater she wouldn’t like, on the game they’ll play once or twice, on obligatory gifts at school and the office that no one really cares for. How many “teachers’ gifts” does a teacher need? Instead of spending money on excess gifts, wouldn’t a more missional approach be to spend time with one another, make gifts, bake treats, gather to share time and stories—our lives? Rather than spending money on useless presents—p-r-e-s-e-n-t-s—we need to ask how Jesus celebrated. Jesus gave, relationally, incarnation, time, space, presence—p-r-e-s-e-n-c-e. And that money we didn’t spend? What if we gave some of it away, to the poor, the hurting, the hungry, the sick, or the thirsty? Instead of buying another tie that Dad doesn’t need we could give a brick to build a school, or half a wall full of bricks, or a whole wall that would go toward educating God’s children in Sudan.
Because that’s the thing—Jesus didn’t just come for you and me. He came for the whole world. Luke makes it clear that the gospel isn’t just our little secret, it’s for all God’s children. John the Baptist tells us that all flesh shall see the salvation of God, that preparing the way of the Lord is to fill the valleys of death and despair, to make low the mountains of disparity, and to make the rough places smooth for the whole world. I firmly believe that whoever has adopted a family or filled boxes for the residents of Grace House, or stuffed stockings for the homeless is both a blessing and blessed by their actions. You gave of yourselves, you gave as Jesus gave, and you are partners in God’s mission of salvation for all.
