3 ADVENT, YEAR B

SERMON PREACHED AT CHRIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH, NORWAY, MAINE

THE REV. ANNE G. STANLEY

14 DECEMBER 2008

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11; Canticle 3; 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24; John 1:6-8; 19-28

 

Advent 3. The third candle is lit. The rose candle, the color and symbol of joy.  We’re moving now into the second half of Advent. The light is getting brighter. And have you noticed—more and more lights are popping up in the dark around us, too? In windows? On trees? David and I don’t rush the season, but we did have our first conversation yesterday about our this year’s Christmas tree, where we might get it, and do you suppose the tree lights are in the same old corner of the attic, or might they have gotten moved somewhere else over the summer? 

The third Sunday of Advent. The coming of Jesus is getting closer. But in the gospel, we still have John the Baptist with us. Have you even wondered why, every Advent, two out of the four Sundays feature John the Baptist? In Mark last week. In John’s gospel today.

We know that John the Baptist was Jesus’ forerunner, that his own work preceded that of Jesus. John was laying the groundwork for the coming of God into the world in a brand-new way.  That’s the big reason, of course.

But there are some differences between Mark’s understanding of John and that of the writer of this 4th gospel. Differences that are significant, I think, to our lives. So let’s look.

The gospel of John—John the Evangelist, NOT to be confused with John the Baptist—this fourth gospel sheds some light on Jesus’ forerunner, John, in a way that the gospel of Mark doesn’t do. In this gospel, for example, John is never referred to as the “Baptist.” He doesn’t baptize Jesus, as he does in Mark, and in Matthew and Luke. His important ministry isn’t featured. John in this gospel is pretty much a nobody “Who are you?” asked John’s interrogators. “What do you say about yourself?”

 “I am not the one who is to come, I am not he…” said John, over and over again.  “I am not.”  (Contrasted with Jesus’ later saying, over and over again, I AM” as in “I am the Bread of life, I am the Good Shepherd, I am the Gate, I am the light of the world…”).  John is not. Jesus is.

John’s vigorous ministry of preaching and baptizing is never described in this gospel, as it is in Mark’s. John is not portrayed here as a prominent figure here.  In the opening words of his gospel, Mark introduced John the baptizer as the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God: as in, “Heeeeere’s Johnny!” In the gospel today, John isn’t the beginning of the good news. In fact, for John the Evangelist, Jesus the Word was in the world already, and had been from its very beginning.  The man, John, was but a witness to Jesus, a sign pointing to him John’s gospel is full of signs. The man, John, was one of them.

A sign pointing to Jesus.  

That, I think, is what this gospel is saying to us, and why the people who arrange the lectionary have put it before us today, as we approach Christmas.

John was a sign pointing to Jesus. A man sent by God to be a sign. He was not the Messiah, he wasn’t the prophet Elijah returned, he wasn’t Moses, he wasn’t the light.

And, of course, neither are we. We aren’t, as I said last week, the “real deal.”  But we are sent by God, just as John was.  That I believe. Didn’t Jesus himself say to his disciples, “As God has sent me, so I send you?” 

We, like John, are people of God to be signs to the world of Jesus. How else will people recognize Jesus when he comes, for heaven’s sake? We are not messiahs (that position has already been filled, we know). The church is not the kingdom of God.

But we are signs. Or we should be and can be if we accept the job.

Signs of Jesus who came, signs of Christ who is here among us and who will come again, we know for sure, in the fullness of time itself.

Who are you?” the religious authorities quizzed the man John. “Who are you….What do you say about yourself?

Who are you?” people ask us. “ Imagine yourself standing in Hannaford’s or in line at the Post Office.  And somebody says to you, “Who are you….What do you say about yourself?

What would you say back? What would your answer be?

Do our lives, do our words, point to Jesus? Are we witnesses and signs and incarnations of Jesus for the world?  For our families? How is the church, even our own parish church, a sign of Jesus? How do we point to the one who was, who is and who is to come? Do we?

In Luke’s gospel, Jesus’ public ministry began in this way: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor….to release to captives… to sight to the blind… to bring freedom for the oppressed…and  a  year of the Lord’s favor…” Words from the prophet Isaiah, which we heard already today. And Jesus added, “Today this scripture has  been fulfilled in your hearing.”  That’s how Jesus described himself.

Jesus’ life’s work was to bring that good news. Jesus WAS that good news.

That is God’s plan for the world, God’s desire. The hope of our faith. We can live that good news, too, in the time we have been given in our own lives. We aren’t the good news, but we can be signs of it. Can you imagine it? The “year of God’s favor, that is, in other words, the Jubilee Year of the forgiveness of all debts?  What would happen if the new administration of Barak Obama were to make God’s good news the signature act of the “change” he promised? Think of the jubilant and happy chaos that would ensue? No more debt for anyone or any country? All of us starting from scratch? How would we cope with such good news? What a frightening and thrilling thought!

We aren’t the good news of Jesus Christ, of course, as the man John wasn’t either. But we can, like John, point to it by living it. How can we not?

So we give thanks and rejoice on this third Sunday of Advent. We give thanks for the man John, who came as a sign of Jesus. We rejoice that our lives, too, can be offered as signs, pointing always to Jesus and to God’s promised future. So the world can recognize him when he comes.