In the movie "Life or Something Like It,"(1) everyday at the
corner of Fourth and Sanders in downtown Seattle, homeless
Prophet Jack (played perfectly by Tony Shaloub) would scramble
onto his crate, thrust his arms into the air, arch his back,
throw back his head, gaze into the sky, and then prophesy: "I see
and I say."
One day television reporter Lanie Kerrigan (played by
Angelina Jolie) happened by Jack's pulpit. She tossed a few
coins into his coffer, and in return received a disturbing
message. Prophet Jack prophesied that the Seahawks would beat
the Broncos 16-13, that it would hail the next day, and that on
Thursday Lanie would die. She dismissed Jack as outrageously
loony, until he looked her straight in the eye and with utmost
seriousness said, "prophets don't joke." Lanie was a bottle
blond, but she was not a dumb blond, so when Jack's first two
prophecies came true, she repented of her ways and reformed her
life.
Jack is not a bad imitation of the hero of our lesson this
morning. We meet him every year at this time in our preparations
for the arrival of the Christ child. And, to be honest, if it
were not for the fact that the lectionary deposits us annually at
his desert camp, we would probably barrel right on toward the
manger without ever noticing him at all. But here he is again, a
speed bump on the road to Bethlehem.
The gospel writers apparently think John is a pretty
important character in this Jesus narrative. All four talk about
him, while just two mention the Lord's birth. Luke is
particularly insistent that we take him seriously because he goes
to some lengths in noting the historical context of his ministry.
Seven different political and religious leaders are mentioned as
John's contemporaries. "In the fifteenth year of the reign of
Tiberius Caesar--when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, Herod
tetrarch of Galilee, his brother Philip tetrarch of Iturea and
Traconitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilene--during the high
priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John
son of Zechariah in the desert."
The Emperor Tiberius is the "Caesar" in question whenever
that Roman designation is used during Jesus' ministry. Tiberius
was the stepson of Caesar Augustus and was only reluctantly
accepted by Roman leadership and designated the heir and a
"Caesar" only when all hope of a true biological son of Augustus
was abandoned. He was neither well-loved nor respected.
Pontius Pilate rose from the obscurity of Roman "middle-management" to his position as procurator of Judea at about the
same time John the Baptist began his ministry. From the
beginning of his tenure, Pilate seemed to have a gift for
insulting and antagonizing his Jewish subjects. Knowing that his
hold on Judea was tenuous, Pilate made up for his weakness by
periodically unleashing vicious atrocities on the citizens. He
was both despised and feared.
Herod was an unbalanced and dangerous ruler, designated as
"King of the Jews" by the authorities in Rome. Though he himself
was a Jew, he spent as much money and attention on establishing
various pagan temples around the region as he did on the temple
in Jerusalem. Herod's personal paranoia finally led him to begin
murdering all those around him whom he suspected of disloyalty.
His behavior led to the aphorism in Rome that said it was safer
to be Herod's pig than Herod's son.
Less is known about Herod's brother Philip other than the
fact that he built the city of Ceasarea Philippi and named it
after himself. Of Lysanias, we know nothing much at all, but the
mere mention of his name in the text confirms how fragmented the
regional politics were.
As we would expect, Luke notes Annas and Caiaphas, the two
most important Jewish leaders of the day. Caiaphas was Annas'
son-in-law, and together their loyalties lay more with
maintaining their positions of power by cooperating with the
Roman authorities than with exerting the religious leadership
that might have been hoped of them.
But "the word of God" came neither from imperial Rome nor
from Israel's religious establishment. It did not come from
someone dressed in fashionable clothes who lived in an expensive
palace. Nor did it come from a corporate board room, a
cloistered convent, or a university laboratory. It came from
this unusual character, strange, really, whether by the standards
of our day or even his own. His base of operations is out in the
boonies, Bethany beyond the Jordan. His attire looks like
something cobbled together by a survivalist, camel's hair tunic
with a leather belt around his waist. The lunch buffet consists
of locusts and wild honey. His message is not particularly
attractive, not "God's in his heaven and all's right with the
world"; far from it. It is an apocalyptic vision and a call to
change: "Repent...NOW...for the kingdom of God is at hand." That
is it. No heart-warming stories, no three points and a poem, no
pious platitudes. He just stands there, roaring his simple
sermon like a lion. No microphones necessary - you could
probably hear him before you could see him. "REPENT!" echoes off
the desert landscape. And prophets don't joke, remember. The
word, not simply of John, but the word of God.
I recall the dear old Scottish lady who referred to a young
man as obviously fitted for the ministry because he was a "right
harmless laddie." Say what? Don't tell John. The Bible never
thinks of religion as a discussion of nice, cozy and harmless
table talks. The Word rather is described as "living and active.
Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to
dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the
thoughts and attitudes of the heart."(2) For John, this was a time
for slicing and dicing.
Is that what you need on the way to Bethlehem? I do. And
not just on the way to Bethlehem - I need to hear it regularly.
You see, regularly I find myself caught up in the busyness of the
world. There is hustle and bustle out there, not just as we
approach Christmas, but all year through. I major in minors and
make mountains out of molehills, even though I know better. The
news out of Washington or Baghdad or Tehran or Jerusalem is
routinely horrible, and that is so frustrating. At this time of
year I hear commentators decrying this bogus "War on Christmas"
that they have invented for their own purposes and I get angry.
No, "peace of earth, goodwill to men" seem like some far off
dream. I want to lash out.
But then comes this call to REPENT, David. Before you get
to the manger, REPENT, David. It brings to mind Jesus' later
instruction to the church about coming to worship while there is
some smoldering issue between you and someone else. He says, "if
you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that
your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in
front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to your brother;
then come and offer your gift."(3) Get things FIXED!!!
The heart of "fixing" is repentance, that good $2.00
"churchy" word that means, not only being sorry for your sins,
but being sorry enough to QUIT! The Greek behind the word
repentance reflects a changing of the mind, a 180-degree shift.
The world outside the church says very little about repentance
because the world outside the church is not convinced that such a
thing is really possible: "A leopard cannot change its spots,"
"Can't teach an old dog new tricks," and all that. At this time
of year, we hear a great deal about Scrooge...always a metaphor
for someone who is mean-spirited, miserly, and miserable. But
the Scrooge of Dickens' A Christmas Carol repented, and by the
end of the story becomes a generous warm-hearted benefactor. Why
do we remember only the rotten in him? Is it because the world
remains unconvinced of the possibility of change? Or perhaps it
is that misery loves company. If no one else can change, neither
should I be expected to change. John says WRONG!!!
A member of Alcoholics Anonymous said that his process of
recovery began on the day he decided to buy an exceptionally fine
watch. The watch combined a chronometer, a stop-watch, a
calendar, and an astrological observatory. It indicated the time
of the day and of the month, and even of the phases of the moon.
He said that all it lacked was hot and cold running water. This
was his confession: "Then I realized something, I realized that
if this watch ever needed repair, it could not be taken to just
anybody...it could not be taken to an ordinary repair person. It
would need to be taken to its maker."
So, the recovering alcoholic added, "Then it came to me that
my life was also a very complicated affair...like that watch. It
had broken down...and was running out of control. I decided that
my only chance was to take it back to its maker."(4) That is
called repentance, and that is what John the Baptist calls us to.
John is the speed bump on the road to Bethlehem. With Jack
the street prophet in Seattle, he says "I see and I say...MAKE
READY for what is coming," and he echoes those soaring words of
Isaiah that Luke quotes: "Prepare the way for the Lord, make
straight paths for him. Every valley shall be filled in, every
mountain and hill made low. The crooked roads shall become
straight, the rough ways smooth." The picture is drawn from
those massive engineering efforts of ancient Babylon that Israel
would have seen during their exile. Straight new roads -
superhighways - not those old roads that are content to follow
the terrain. For the ancients, this was a theological statement:
nothing must be allowed to impede or delay the coming of God.
What a message for us at Advent! "Let every heart/Prepare
him room" we sing. Perhaps we would do well to say let every
heart get out the bulldozers and backhoes, the rock crushers and
road graders. There are mountains that need to come down -
mountains of racism, sexism, ageism, and any other "-ism's" that
would block our way to healthy relationships with one another and
with our Lord. There are valleys to be filled - valleys of
depression, despair, loneliness, grief, pain, any of which can
keep us from the rich relationship the Savior offers and that
keep us from enjoying the fellowship of the faith. There are
crooked places to be made straight - yes, there is perversity,
even among those we might never imagine; fine exteriors mask
rotten interiors of abuse, neglect, immorality, even violence.
There are rough places to be made smooth - rough places that have
come because of oppression and injustice. There is work to do!
Bring on the heavy equipment!
There is a wonderful conclusion to all the effort. As the
lesson has it, "all mankind will see God's salvation." Picture
it. This mass of humanity is stretched out along the hillsides
overlooking this wonderful wide highway. As far as the eye can
see they are spread out. Men and women, boys and girls. Rich
and poor, young and old, slave and free. Every nation, tongue,
and tribe. Red, and yellow, black and white. All are anxiously
gathered to watch for the arrival of the King of all kings who is
the embodiment of God's salvation, God's healing, God's
wholeness, God's shalom.
Can you see it? Yes, I know vision is hampered. The
mountains are so high and the valleys so low, the crooked places
are still horribly bent and the rough places resist every attempt
to smooth them. Look beyond all that. Look to God's
salvation... Jeshua...Iesus...Jesus. See Jesus in the lives of
your fellow worshipers...see Jesus present in the sacraments...
see Jesus in the faces of those whose needs we seek to meet...see
Jesus in the pages of scripture. Clearer and clearer the picture
comes. Can you see it yet? Look. Look. And keep on looking.
It WILL come into focus. "I see and I say." And prophets don't
joke. "All mankind (even you and me) will see God's salvation."
Jesus.
Amen!
1. Regency Enterprises, 2002, directed by Stephen Herek, screenplay by John Scott
Shepherd and Dana Stevens
2. Hebrews 4:12
3. Matthew 5:23-24
4. Maxie Dunham, "Repentance: The No that Is a Yes," http://www.esermons.com
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