The Third Sunday of Advent

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

In the Gospel of John we just heard the Priests and Levites ask John the Baptist, “Who are you, then?” He told them, “I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord.’”

In that short quote John is linked to the prophet Isaiah who spoke similar words centuries before. In this Advent season Isaiah and John play essential roles as messengers of God’s immanent arrival. They speak to different audiences, looking for God to come in different ways, accomplish different things and yet the message is that God is coming. There is another similarity in the message these two men speak. And that is the wilderness. Isaiah speaks from outside the wilderness, John speaks from within the wilderness, and both about preparing a way for God to enter into the wilderness.

Isaiah lived in the city of Jerusalem in the eighth century BC. He was among the city’s elite residents and had access to the king to whom he frequently gave advice. He had a long ministry and served over the span of four kings. Needless to say he was well regarded even when his advice was hard to follow and his assessments of political decisions made by some of the kings were rather stinging.

It was he who advised the King not to enter an alliance with Egypt even though the Babylonian enemies were breathing down their necks. At the crucial moment when Egypt was needed, they backed out leaving Israel to fend for themselves. Israel didn’t last long and the Babylonian conquest left the city in ruins and many of it’s citizens taken hostage and forced to walk hundreds of miles to relocation areas in Babylon.

Isaiah’s dire words of warning prior to the attack turned over the years into the words of hope reflected in our first lesson, “The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because he has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the broken hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners...” It was Isaiah who told them of the voice shouting, to prepare a way in the wilderness for God. The wilderness here had a double meaning - the exterior wilderness of the new land they were in and the interior wilderness of the sadness they were experiencing. In both cases, keep the faith and that faith will be the road by which God travels into the wilderness of your heart, the interior and exterior place of captivity, and lead you home.

Centuries later John the Baptist used words similar to Isaiah’s, but in his case he spoke as one who was actually in the wilderness. Again the use of the word wilderness has both a literal and metaphoric meaning. Being at the Jordan river, John was far away from Jerusalem and people had to walk a great distance to get to him. For anyone coming out of any city, the land beyond is all wilderness. If you’ve ever invited a Manhattan resident to New Jersey for dinner you know what I mean. They get very nervous about leaving the city, and would prefer we go there. No matter what century we’re talking about the phenomenon seems to be the same.

Even so in Jerusalem, to go to see John in the wilderness was a big deal. And of course he, like Isaiah dealt not only with the wilderness as a geographic place, but referred to the wilderness of the heart. John preached a message of repentance and forgiveness as a method to prepare the way for God.

With all the hubbub going on outside the city, the religious authorities wanted to go find out what was going on. All the talk about a Messiah on the way from someone new and not properly credentialed could be problematic, not only from a religious point a view, but from a political one as well. The Romans got rather ticklish about forecasts of new Messiahs. It usually meant rebellion and they would have to clamp down as they had in the past. The Priests and Levites went to find out what was going on before trouble began.

“Who are you?” They asked. The scriptures said that before the Messiah came, Elijah would return or one of the other Prophets. So the priests and Levites asked if he were any of these. John said no and invoked the words of Isaiah, meaning I’m not a prophet, I’m simply a voice saying prepare the way of the Lord. He’s coming soon.

Since this is Advent, we really don’t get into the part where Jesus actually arrives on the scene. We stay in the period of waiting in the wilderness. Holding onto that feeling of trepidation, wanting whatever is holding us captive to stop, and for things to get better; that feeling of being lost in the wilderness and waiting for God to come and rescue us. If you’ve ever felt that way, perhaps you can recall the feeling now and also recall how desperately we clung to the voices which gave us hope.

Those voices usually fell into two categories. First, people who didn’t know what we were going through but held our hands through the ordeal. The second category was the people who had actually been through what we were going through and spoke from experience. Both are needed, and yet both serve us differently.

It’s been two years since our youth group went on a mission trip to Mississippi to help the areas still ravaged by Hurricane Katrina. The destruction of the gulf coast was a wilderness all its own - literally through the devastation of the towns and cities and emotionally in the spirits and psyches of the residents. One of the most moving moments of our trip was when a staff member of the church we used as home base started to cry when telling our youth they had no idea how much it meant to them to have us there, that they weren’t forgotten by those outside the devastation. We were to them like the voice outside their wilderness speaking words of hope, that they are remembered and cared for by us, and so many others, and that God is working through us.

Their time of captivity will end. We don’t know when it will end fully, but it will, because we remember and God continues to work through those outside their wilderness.

This memory came back recently after seeing a news item on how far the work in the hurricane devastated area has come. In some places it’s progressed quite far, in many other places not far enough. I was stuck by one woman whose work was organizing schools for children displaced by the hurricane. Her dedication and commitment as a life long resident of the New Orleans area was immensely inspiring. Her strength of faith and character provided a different voice of one in the wilderness. Someone who knows the suffering first hand and is there for the long haul. She is helping the children prepare a way in their wilderness for God’s healing and hope.

Both voices are needed, the one calling from outside saying, “Hold on, help is on the way.” To the voice from inside saying, “I know what you’re going through, I’m here with you and we’re going to make it.”

We each have our places of wilderness and we all need God to enter. God offers the healing and strength we need at different times individually and collectively. Sometimes we need to hear the voice, and sometimes we need to be the voice. But in both cases the message is to prepare the way to let God in.

And that’s often easier said than done. Letting God in means first to quiet the voices of our particular “Priests and Levites” who ask, Who do you think you are? Who told you, you could be a voice? What are your credentials?

Those are the voices of insecurity. Like John we can state simply that indeed we are a voice, and that statement is the only credential we really need. Insecurity is one set of bushes and brush that block the road. We can clear them away and allow God entry. We can be the voice someone else needs to hear. We can step in and our concern is credential enough.

Another roadblock is our sense of unworthiness for God. Things that stand in the way are guilt over past hurts or mistakes we’ve made. We may not feel worthy to help another, or even more so, not worthy to be helped. Fear and doubt are road blocks and they keep the wilderness fortified. John leads the way here in offering repentance and forgiveness and real repentance requires confession. Confession really has a bad rap these days and it’s a shame. It really offers a lot of healing. We all have something we need to let go of. And confession is as good a vehicle as any to get rid of it. It’s comes as a big surprise to many that the Episcopal church offers private confession. It’s rarely taken advantage of and I believe that has much to do with first, not knowing it’s available and second, having horror stories from the past of private confession. Chris Carroll and I are available to hear private confessions and I promise we won’t make it scary. Mistakes that happened once in the past may still haunt. Some mistakes that happen time and again have their own pain that needs attention. Talking about it in a spiritually supportive environment helps.

People left the city in droves to get the reassurance of God’s love they needed from John the Baptist and the assurance of forgiveness. We all have a spiritual hunger for the same thing, and the solution is the same today as it was then. Talk about it, say the words out loud. Hear the words of forgiveness and the healing spirit of God.

I remember my last trip to my confessor where I told him my biggest and worst secrets. I still see the look in his eyes when he asked me, “Is that all you got?” I was actually insulted that he wasn’t shocked. But the point is, those things bothered me. And because they did, I lived in a wilderness that I could have gotten out of much earlier if I had simply talked about it through confession. With the words of forgiveness came a real sense of relief and healing. I invite you to take seriously the invitation to a healthy confession, not a guilt producing one, but a guilt relieving one.

Whether our wilderness is physical in where we live and move, or whether the wilderness is in the spirit created by insecurity, fear, doubt or guilt, God will come in. But we have to do our part and prepare the way. If we’re unsure of the way there are voices both inside and outside the wilderness to guide us. We wait in hope until we decide what to do and when we decide it’s OK to let God in, prepare the way God will come. Amen.

© 2008 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Third Sunday of Advent

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

"Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?" This question from John the Baptist comes as a surprise. Earlier in the record of Matthew's gospel John met Jesus at the Jordan and baptized him. At that time he seemed to recognize Jesus as the Chosen One and in fact tried to prevent Jesus from being Baptized by him. He instead tried to have Jesus baptize him.

It was a wonderful moment of fulfillment. Jesus told him, "Let it be so now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness." Then John consented. He immersed Jesus in the waters of the Jordan river and as Jesus came back on the banks of the river the heavens opened and a voice was heard to say "This is my beloved son with whom I am well pleased."

This appearance of Jesus and brief encounter with John was full of the promise of the prophets. It was a time of announcement and discovery. John spent so much time denying that he was the Messiah, and telling people that the Chosen One was coming later. And here it was. The time was fulfilled. Jesus began him ministry after the Baptism, after the fasting and solitude in the desert and temptations by the Devil. He began by teaching and healing.

John, on the other hand, was interrupted in his ministry. He had criticized Herod for marrying his brother's wife and for this he was put in prison. People in authority do not like to be publicly criticized and there is a long tradition for leaders who put critics in prison. And there John heard about Jesus in a way that was detached.

Odd then, that he would send his disciples to Jesus to ask him, "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for anther?" What happened to John's resolve? What happened to the clarity he had at the Jordan River? Something caused him to wonder if he had been mistaken. Perhaps it was that Jesus didn't meet John's expectation. Like most of the Israelites, John spent much time expecting the Messiah and no doubt forming ideas about what the Messiah would be like and what he would do.

Like most of the Israelites Jesus encountered over time, after the initial splash of excitement, they had doubts and wondered. Ultimately that doubt would lead to a cross, but I get ahead of myself.

Jesus reminds the disciples of John what the Messiah was sent to do -- give sight to the blind, make the lame to walk, cleanse lepers, raise the dead and give good news to the poor. He concludes by saying "Blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me." It is a reminder to John that the Messiah is here to heal and reconcile those in need to God. And in that moment of Grace similar to the moment at the banks of the Jordan River, it is John who needs that word of hope. It is John who needs healing and it is John who needs Good news.

The lessons of Advent are collections of words of hope to people in need of believing, who for whatever reason either grow tired of waiting or have their expectations frustrated. Even John the Baptist wondered if he should be looking for another.

What do we do when our expectations and patience for God are stretched beyond what we are comfortable with? When God dos not act in the way we think He should? Or have our priorities? We don't have to look too far to see those who have indeed gone looking elsewhere. I don't think it's dishonest to say that we ourselves at one time or another have wondered if we're wasting our time and that this can't be the one after all. There are times for all of us when we think that perhaps we must look for another.

These happen at low points in our lives. We may not be like John in an actual prison, but it's not too far off the mark to say that periods of frustration and doubt can be prisons of their own. Periods of grief and illness, periods of physical, emotional or psychic pain -- each of these can be prisons. Perhaps John wondered why Jesus didn't come to get him out. If I had been John and done all the advance work for Jesus' appearance I think I would have had some expectations of Jesus helping out a little bit with the local Amnesty International Chapter. John's probable lament of "Hey, what about me?" is echoed in the voice of any person whose life long beliefs and good works seem to merit special attention from God. When that special attention or intervention doesn't come in a timely or desired fashion, doubt creeps in. Maybe I should look for another. This implies that "another" would certainly do what I want.

Most of you know how the story ends for John the Baptist. It wasn't a happy ending. While in prison, the wife of Herod that John had criticized conspired to have him killed and in fact John was beheaded while in prison. On thing we can say about the Bible is that they don't sugar coat their stories. It's real life in a time that was brutal. We live in times that are also tough and often brutal. War to corporate crime, to young people with guns shooting and killing innocent people in public places. Brutality and injustice seem to thrive and our expectations of the Chosen One shift to the needs of our culture. And the promises we've been given seem to weaken in the wake of our painful realities.

Still, for each brutal act from the killing of John the Baptist to the murder of innocents in a midwestern mall there are acts of kindness and hope that meet the challenges and responds of love to the victims and families. Those who are cripples by grief are made to walk again in time. Those who are blinded by anger or fear are given sight to see beyond their pain and fear. Those who have died in their loss of hope are resurrected with a new sense through the love of God working in each of us for good. And all who are poor in spirit have good news preached to them. This happens through God's love and grace. We live in a world that is not immune to suffering, but even in that suffering God is present and leads us beyond. God also took on suffering, not only the cross, but the doubt and betrayal of friends and disciples.

Jesus was clear in his identity and his mission and as such continues as a beacon to all of us who would allow the pain and disappointments of this world to bring us down.

Advent is a time of expectant energy. It is a time to remind ourselves through the stories of our scriptures and ancestors in the faith to remain open and hopeful. To remember that eve in times of crippling doubt and the prisons of despair that we do see the blind recieving their sight and lame walking and the lepers cleansed, the dead raised. We are the poor who have good news to bring. And we are blessed in this. Amen.

© 2007 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Second Sunday of Advent

By Mary Davis, Seminarian Intern

Matthew 3:1-12

Today's Gospel reading introduces us to the very familiar biblical character of John the Baptist. We meet him every year in Advent, since all 4 Gospels unanimously proclaim John as the official herald to the Messiah, the prophet for whom the prophets foretold would "Prepare the way of the Lord."

But what does this edgy, rough-and-tumble prophet have to say to us today? What is his message for us here, at St. George's, thousands of years later and thousands of miles from the wilderness path about which he spoke? This question made me want to dig for more about John the Baptist, but it also led me to wonder what John the Baptist might look like here, in our context, today. So, imagine with me, if you will, that standing just outside these doors is John the Baptist. Let's go meet him.

John certainly doesn't look like us. He's rough around the edges, just as you might imagine an ascetic from the desert might look (and smell!), but just the same, he is the first bona fide, genuine voice of God that we've heard in years. Hordes of people can't help themselves but flock to him, and we are no exception. But it's kind of like coming upon the scene of an accident, some slow down and look, while others move out of the way. For the words he uses are beyond frank, in fact they're downright scary. Who talks like this today? Says things like "flee from the wrath to come" (3:7) which was in our Gospel reading today, and describes our beloved and tame 21st century Jesus as holding a "winnowing fork" which will separate the wheat from the chaff to be burned "with unquenchable fire?" (7:12) John's words, appearance and smell make me, personally, want to walk a little faster, and not hang around for his message. I consider running to the other side of the street, in an attempt to avoid John's odd behavior and powerfully challenging words. But my curiosity plants my feet firmly in front of him.

Although John's method and message pose danger to him physically, the danger he knowingly faces doesn't seem to altar his message any. His message to us, on this day, is quite clear. He wants us to Repent. "Repent!" he yells, and we all take a step backward. I look around at all the other people, and act as if he were speaking to them, not me. It's hard to look at him, but harder yet, to listen to him. He's surprised at finding us today, so concerned with Christmas gifts, decorating and entertaining and this only serves as fuel for his repeated cries, "Repent!" As I begin to think about my own list-making, my gift-giving, and my entertaining priorities in this busy Advent season, I realize John's calls to repent are aimed at me. My Advent bears little resemblance to John's other cry, "bear fruit worthy of repentance." (3:8)

Some of the people respond, "But it's so easy to be swept up in this gift-giving and gift-receiving frenzy," while some other brave soul acknowledges our temptation to welcome only those whom affirm and love us to our holiday gatherings. Out loud, I wonder, "Perhaps we do have something to repent, but can't we participate in the secular Christmas and still find the Messiah?"

John continues on, undaunted by our skeptical tone and says, "You invite and welcome carefully chosen friends and family to your table this time of the year, but I wonder how many of you are aware of those who are hidden in the peripheries of pews here? Or equally important, have you considered those who are sporadic in their attendance here? Have you thought about who is not here at all, and why? These people, including the ones in your own families, who make you want to metaphorically "run to the other side of the street," are my fellow prophets who often have the most interesting stories to tell and are important voices to hear. They challenge your notions of harmony and peace the most, but also reveal to us a different face of God. Repent that you want to "run across the street." "Repent, and turn to face them," John the Baptist continues. "Your call this Advent is to be peacemakers of the Kingdom and open your hearts and lives to those who challenge you. It's just one more way to "Make the path straight" before being able to embrace our Messiah who comes soon!"

Finally, exasperated by our questioning looks, the Prophet lifts his hands high to the heavens, "We have Abraham as our ancestor (3:9), nothing is impossible for our God. Repent (3:2) - turn back to God, again and again, and again and again, because in order to greet Jesus on Christmas Day this year, you must first turn around and face the messiness in your lives; the messiness which is found in those whose faces are different, who ruffle our outer as well as our inner feathers. Only then can we find the Messiah who promises to baptize us with the Holy Spirit and with fire!

With that, John finishes his teaching, and turns to walk to the other side of the street, approaching those who really did cross over.

So ends our imaginary encounter with this rogue prophet. I understand his message because honestly, there's not much mystery to his words in this Gospel. But this doesn't make it any easier to hear or to follow John's message. And in case you're thinking that the only way we can encounter "John the Baptist" is through our imagination, think again, because, I bumped into my "own" John the Baptist just last month at Drew University. He (John) was a she, in the form of a classmate of mine in my Wednesday class this semester. This class always begins with a few minutes of sharing time. The Professor opens with the question, "how is it with your soul?" And one by one, my classmates share about their weeks, both spiritually and personally.

On one particular week, I was struggling with life at home and the weight of mothering my children with little to no respite help. The weight of my son's unclear future also added to my burden. After sharing this piece of my soul, a woman in the class pointed her finger at me and said, "the reason no one has come to your side to offer help is because of your judgmental nature." My jaw was on the ground. I was impaled, and I found no words for response. Her words haunted me for weeks. I cried because of them and then wrestled with them. I asked myself and others, "Who talks like this today?" "Who really says things like this?!"

Then a few weeks later, our professor opened class again, with the same question, "how is it with your soul?" This time, a different woman shared her present situation. She was confused and conflicted by her roots in the Baptist Church which damned her for questioning her sexual identity. She carefully described her pain, using the words from King David's lament in Psalm 31, "Be kind to me God - I'm in deep, deep trouble again. I've cried my eyes out; I feel hollow inside. My life leaks away, groan by groan; my years fade out in sighs. My troubles have worn me out." Her pain was palpable and her anguish real. Most of us in the room were speechless or simply prayed silently. But then, the same woman who had wagged her finger at me just a few weeks earlier began to speak. She spoke words of comfort and respect, and then said, "no matter what path you take, or whatever you decide, the truth is - God wants us to be free." Again, she repeated, "God wants you to be free!"

This was someone that, weeks before, I had been unable to look at, much less listen to, a person who had basically lumped me in with the Pharisees and Sadducees John described as the "brood of vipers" (3:7). But she was now speaking words of hope, promise and freedom. She was John the Baptist to me. I didn't want to look and I didn't want to listen. Although it was a painful realization, I realized I had judged and rejected well-meaning offers of help. And she spoke the truth.

Jesus' message at Christmas is, in fact, "you're free!" Sit with that today and in this season of Advent. You are free. Free from fear. Free from guilt. Free to love. But in order to find and celebrate this message, we must first face the prophets in our own lives who are like John the Baptist. These prophets make us uncomfortable, but when we listen to them, we are preparing the way of the Lord, and we will be ready to openly greet our Messiah at Christmas. Only then will we be able to live into and celebrate the freedom that Christ brings.

© 2007 Mary Davis