Scripture: Mark 1: 1-8

The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

As it is written in the prophet Isaiah,

‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you,

   who will prepare your way;

the voice of one crying out in the wilderness:

   “Prepare the way of the Lord,

   make his paths straight” ’,

John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, ‘The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.’

Scripture: Luke 3 1-13

In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. He went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah,

‘The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:

“Prepare the way of the Lord,

   make his paths straight.

Every valley shall be filled,

   and every mountain and hill shall be made low,

and the crooked shall be made straight,

   and the rough ways made smooth;

and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.” ’

John said to the crowds that came out to be baptized by him, ‘You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruits worthy of repentance. Do not begin to say to yourselves, “We have Abraham as our ancestor”; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.’

And the crowds asked him, ‘What then should we do?’ In reply he said to them, ‘Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.’ Even tax-collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him, ‘Teacher, what should we do?’ He said to them, ‘Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.’ Soldiers also asked him, ‘And we, what should we do?’ He said to them, ‘Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.’

—

A wild wilderness man for Christmas? You may be thinking, “Reverend, a man eating bugs and honey in the wilderness is not a Christmas story.” And it’s true, I don’t usually share this on Christmas Eve… I don’t even share it during Advent. John the Baptist comes up in the Advent Lectionary (the three-year cycle of readings), in fact, this year he came up twice. Every year John the Baptist comes up during Advent, preparing the way to Christmas, and every year I think…I’ll pass. I rarely preach on John the Baptist, particularly as we head into Christmas. I always pick the shepherds or the wisemen first, but 2020 felt like a John the Baptist sort of year.

Every Gospel tells his story, but Mark starts right into it. Mark starts a new genre of literature, the Gospel, this isn’t just any old biography, it’s good news. Gospel means good news, but also has roots in good news that comes from a rough place, hence my insistence that 2020 is a John the Baptist sort of year. Gospel is the language of a battlefield report. Good news from the battlefield, good news from the place of struggle and conflict and wounding and worry. Mark doesn’t have time for cute babies in a manger or angels chatting with Mary or Wise Men handing Joseph some super impractical, though expensive, gifts. There is nothing charming about Mark. Life is rough and he gets right to the point.

John the Baptist is out in the wilderness wearing camel hair (which sounds worse than the itchiest wool sweater) and eating bugs, not because he is on a low-carb diet, but because he can be sustained by the land and everything about him points to Elijah. There in the wilderness John (looking and sounding a whole lot like Elijah and quoting some of the greatest prophetic hits like Isaiah) proclaims the drawing near of God, the presence of something new in the midst of this rough landscape saying, “Prepare the way of the Lord.”

He is on the margins of the community, literally and figuratively. He stands at the Jordan River, which is more powerful in memory and narrative than in presence. In memory, it is the gateway into the promise and out of the wilderness after 40 years of wondering. In presence, it is pretty humble and tame. Jerusalem is not build on the banks of this river that must gorge with water in the rain and trickle in the heat; it’s not developed or domesticated. This humble spot is sacred and John makes it even more so by asking people to be baptized as a sign of repentance.

John says, “Repent” and I said it in a Christmas sermon at a progressive church, which might make you further worried about what exactly we are doing in this text that wasn’t sweet before, but now just got a whole lot worse. But I ask you to stick with me for just a moment. John is out there preaching repentance and folks are showing up. This is shocking to me and perhaps to you, but that is probably because when we think of the word REPENT, we think of some terrible man yelling at students on campus or the people outside of Pride with their “sinners repent” signs…or the people that sometimes protest outside the Abbey for that matter.

But John the Baptist is not that guy and repent isn’t the same in his context. It is about turning towards God, metanoia. And it is not born out of unworthiness and shame, but love. John speaks to people who are children of God, created in God’s image as loving and relational beings with the power to do good. John reminds them of who they are; they are the sacred children of Abraham and they can step it up. We are so beloved we can grow and while growth involves growing pains, we are not alone. And while this may help us all approach this prickly language, I am not aiming to make repentance palatable, but rather powerful.

As people come to John they ask, “what does repentance mean?” and it is not a bunch of moralizing, individual focused rules. He is not some old, self-righteous church person saying, “thou shall not dance or thou shall not drink one drop of wine least ye be a sinner.” He is not the preacher in Footloose and repentance isn’t about some far off afterlife prize, but about this life, right now. In Luke, “soldiers asked him, ‘And we, what should we do?’ He said to them, ‘Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.’” John is approached by tax collectors and the gospel says even tax collectors came…which means we are hitting the bottom of the barrel, the most notorious folks around are trying to change and John tells them ‘Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.’ His direction is practical and not at all a mystery, don’t abuse your power whether you are soldiers or a tax collector; and we can probably learn to do the same no matter what our vocation. He tells folks with plenty to share, if you have two coats, share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise. If you have plenty, you should give it away. Repentance isn’t rocket science, all of these instructions are tangible and simple, which is why they are so profoundly hard. Repentance isn’t about getting into heaven, it’s about making earth as it is in heaven, it is about right now acting with a heart for justice and compassion. And because it asks something of us now, repentance makes folks like John pretty unpopular.

John is a prophet and the important thing about prophets isn’t what they say but what they do. Their work may involve words, but they are not fortune-tellers, they are truth-tellers. They assess the present with an eye to the future and a sensitivity to the past. Prophets hold this sacred role of remembering and reminding folks who they are and then imagining what could be. Prophets, I propose, are akin to the second Ghost in The Christmas Carol, saying, “if these shadows remain unchanged” to the newly woke Scrooge. If these shadows remain unchanged; if Tiny Tim doesn’t access health care, if Bob Cratchit doesn’t earn a living wage, if the world remains unjust…Christmas day will not matter. The prophet tells the truth with a sensitivity to evil and brokenness in the world around them and they tell the truth in love. This is risky work and they take that risk in the hope that it changes everything. Prophets speak truth in the hope that it matters. That is the only reason to be a prophet, because it does not put you in good standing with the powerful and breaks your heart over and over again. John didn’t know Gloria Steinem, but I think he would like her quote, “The truth will set you free but it will ‘make you mad’ first.” And he would probably use the language that I am not (which is only because I don’t want to be the reason Max says it to his Kindergarten teacher).

A world without truth-tellers is a world in danger. A world without truth-tellers means crucifixion abounds, it means “I can’t breathe” meets zero accountability, it means the rich crush the poor with their greed, it means good leaders lose their jobs for speaking up, it means sidelining science for political gain and tear-gassing your way to a Church. A world without truth continues to mine the resources of the earth, dump chemicals into our water and pump death into our air. A world with out truth-tellers leads us to crucifixions named Ferguson and Sandy Hook, it means concentration camps and detention centers and for-profit prisons, it’s Jim Crow-old and new, it’s trans-women of color terrorized on our streets, it’s sweatshops and medical debt and schools crumbling. A world without truth-tellers means profiting from human pain, abusing power and dehumanizing our neighbors.

It is into this deep darkness that John proclaims the coming of Christ’s light. There was in his day, just as in ours, every reason to despair and yet he says, “Prepare the way, prepare the way of the Lord, prepare the way for Love to pour down.” The world looks bleak in his day and in ours and he bears witness to the profound and powerful truth of God’s all-loving call in our lives. Christmas is about this hard truth and a hard-earned hope. Everyone in the Christmas narrative has a rough Christmas and they have nothing to brag about in a cute card. Christmas asks us to look heartbreak in the eyes and whispers to our hearts, “be not afraid.”

Christmas needs truth, even if it’s not very jolly. Without the truth, it is sugar and spice in the bakers’ hands, it’s as predictable as Hallmark and means nothing. Without truth, it twinkles without light, gets consumed and used up, and that sweet, vulnerable baby gets packed away with all the other charming nativity characters for one more year and we leave the dark shadows unchanged. Without the truth, Christmas is meaningless because it has no power to change us.

Christmas looks the despair of the world in the eyes and says, God is here. Christmas looks at our brokenness and our inhumanity and says, Emmanuel, God is with us, in us and through us. This year the systems have been laid bare before our very eyes, the old structures must be cleared for a new path. The old structures of privilege and domination are failing us all and this moment calls for us to make a new way. Listen, the voice crying out in the wilderness, “Prepare the way.” This Christmas calls us to be a part of the hard truths that we might mend our broken hearts and live into God’s all-loving dream.

May we have the courage. May it be so. Amen.