Silencing John the Baptist - Advent 2A

December 8, 2019

Advent 2 Year A
Matthew 3:1-12
The second Sunday of Advent always spotlights Jesus’ cousin and biblical prophet, John the Baptist. I have to admit though, his rough appearance and sharp message have always put me off. He cries in the wilderness and shouts of winnowing forks and an all-consuming fire. And for 50 years, I have tried to talk myself into liking him – or at the very minimum, at least appreciating his message, but I have failed.
So this week, I allowed myself to admit this – both to myself, and now to you – and discovered that the only way I’d actually like John the Baptist – and therefore, the only way I can truly listen to and heed his message – is if he had a “dimmer switch” to tone him down, or a “silent button,” like the one on my phone. I’m a little like the Grinch, ‘all the noise, noise, noise, noise.’ His shouts in the wilderness make me want to tune him out. So today, I want to pretend that a ‘mute button’ is possible and enter into John the Baptist’s message that way.
What I find when I do that is incredibly helpful for me. Because even with a mute button, I find that there is a John who still baptizes; a John who draws people to the water and listens to them; a John who offers the hope of repentance. And, like a true prophet, John always – yes, always – points the way to Jesus and the hope he brings into the world. Silencing John at this time of year helps me with my own spiritual journey. Because even without words, first and foremost, the hope of Jesus - - a hope of Shalom/Peace for the world – still gets communicated. John’s actions speak just as loudly as his words do, and for me, especially in our world where words of truth seem to be a rare commodity, his actions are what move me – - what call out to me the loudest – what draw me in to follow Jesus.
I suppose that in many ways, actions which communicate love and forgiveness are even more difficult/more risky than the words. Remember God’s Grace Sunday? It was actually about action. You see, I started the offering by using Barbara Brown Taylor’s metaphor of God’s grace, that it is like a side of grits at a Southern diner. ‘You don’t ask for it, they just come.’ But the fact is that God’s grace not only works for us that way, but also in us. God’s grace stirs our consciences and moves us to do good for others in the world. So the money that I gave away freely (at the 8am worship service and again, at 10am to the children), as God’s grace, was also to be shared with others in the world, and used an active expression of God’s abundant love which comes to us with no strings attached. Well, the only string attached was that I wanted the stories of how God’s grace moved in the world to be shared. And this morning, I want to share one of those stories, exactly as it was written. Pay attention to the actions. Because like John the Baptist with a “mute” button, it is more about actions than it is the words:
That $20 was the biggest weight I ever carried in my wallet. I bought someone a coffee. That didn't work for me. I put money in a fund-raising jar. Again, Nada, nothing registered. Tonight I am sitting in the waiting area at Penn Station listening to the man next to me talk to his wife in a panicked tone because his wallet was stolen. No ticket home, no cash no cards. He called a couple more friends and left messages. I would have been in tears if it were me. I'd be hoping for a miracle in his shoes. I'd already spent my $20 just to get it over with. But I gave him ticket money and said he could pay me if he ever saw me again, which I am sure won't happen. He felt better thinking it was a loan. He said it restored some of his faith in humanity. Restoring faith one act at a time.
One act at a time. One act. That’s what John the Baptist was doing with each individual baptism in the wilderness. And it’s what we are called to do during this Advent season. To proclaim the hope and truth of Jesus’ movement in the world, the possibility of peace in our world, just one action at a time.
It’s really a funny contrast in images, because this week when John the Baptist was heavy on my mind, I saw the movie about Fred Rogers aka Mr. Rogers, “Won’t you be my neighbor?” It is a powerful movie, and as you’ve noticed in the announcements, we are going to gather in January to talk about the themes from the movie. But what was most striking to me, at least initially, was how Fred Rogers, not just the TV actor but the person, saw each individual as God’s beloved. He managed to peer through a person’s exterior and into their heart and psyche – and he loved them. One person at a time. He was acting as a prophet – not loud or brazen - but definitely BOLD in love. And just like our parishioner in Penn Station, his actions spoke louder than his words. I love the quote by Mr. Rogers, which is also in our bulletin: “What a tough job to try to communicate the gift of Jesus Christ to anybody. It can’t simply be talked about, can it? Jesus himself used parables – so I guess that’s our directive: try to show the Kingdom of God through stories as much as possible.”
Jesus’ parables about the kingdom of God always begin, “The Kingdom of God is like . . . .” and he goes on to use illustrations about actions in the world. The kingdom of God is like a woman who searches high and low for a lost coin, and when she finds it, she throws a party! The kingdom of God is like one who sows seeds, and scatters them recklessly. The kingdom of God is like a man who offers hope of forgiveness in the wilderness. The kingdom of God is like one who unexpectedly and generously helps a stranger in his time of need.
Jesus’ gift of forgiveness and love can only be shared through our actions, and sometimes, that means simply one encounter at a time.
This week, as I was reading something written by my favorite theologian Padraig O’Tuama, he shared the story of being in worship at his Catholic Church on a Sunday, and at the time of the consecration (during communion) a bell rang, and the priest held up the sacrament. At that moment a 3 year old child, who up until then had been sitting quietly on his mother’s lap, shouted out, “Hello Jesus!” Of course, the congregation reacted, so the boy, loving the attention shouted it out even louder a second time, “Helloooo Jesus!”
What if our actions in the world were to cause others to exclaim, “Hello, Jesus!” That’s a prophet’s job. It’s what John the Baptist did in the wilderness. It’s what Fred Rogers did throughout his life. It’s what our parishioner did in Penn Station. It is how we make God’s healing, redeeming, saving, empowering, inspiring love known in the world. And it’s what we are all called to do this Advent. Amen.