Plymouth Congregational Church of Fort Wayne, UCC
December 6, 2009
Second Sunday of Advent

Scripture Lesson:  Luke 3:1-6

Agony, Advent,
and a Call to Repentance

"... the Word of God came to John..."
 (Luke 3:2)

Prelude

Our scripture lesson this morning gives us

introduction to the public ministry

of John the Baptist (Luke 3:1-6).

Luke, our evangelist in this instance,

had earlier reported on the

strange and wonderful circumstances

surrounding John's birth. 

Do you recall?  

John's father was a priest by the name of Zechariah;

his mother was Elizabeth; both were from good families,

genealogically linked with Aaron, brother of Moses,

and founder of the priesthood that was preeminent in

administering the ritual life of the people of God.

Both were known for their character; they were

"righteous before God, living blamelessly

according to all the commandments

and regulations of the Lord" (Luke 1:6).

Yet for all this, there was emptiness,

a sense of incompleteness in their lives;

there was personal anguish, we might say;

for as reported, Elizabeth was "barren;"

and "they had no children."

Barren - such a cold word.

Barren - bleak, unproductive, uninviting.

We can speak of barren land;

barren souls; barren seasons.

And barren wombs; barren worlds.

I imagine this is what Christina Rossetti

had in mind when she wrote:

"In the bleak mid-winter,

frosty wind made moan,

earth stood hard as iron,

water like a stone."

And possibly, too, the poet

Langston Hughes (1902-1967),

who once issued a warning: 

"Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die,

Life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly;

Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams go,

Life is a barren field, frozen with snow."

Luke reports Elizabeth was barren.

I wonder:  did she dream? 

Was her life barren,

or is barren simply a label

Luke employs to account for the disgrace

she is said to have endured among her people (Luke 1:25)?

It is a terrible condition into which

we can fall, this barren state. 

Bereft of hope. 

Broken-winged. 

Dreamless. 

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas,

so we sing along with Bing (and others!).

Fifty-four words from Irving Berlin, the best-selling

Christmas song of all time. 

Yet if we dream only for an experience,

if we dream only to regress into a sheltered mood,

rather than a life lived in mystery of grace;

if we care more about perfect snow

rather than pure hearts,

then even our dreams may be broken-winged. 

More than climate complicates

the portrait of Zechariah and Elizabeth.

There is also the ticking of a biological clock.

Elizabeth and Zechariah

were "getting on in years."

This is the language of the NRSV.

The old English of King James states:

"both were well stricken in years" (Luke 1:7);

which the Good News translates as they

"were both very old."

I can't see in the text if Elizabeth had

exhausted her hope and lost her dreams.

Insufficient evidence.

But Father Zechariah seems to have been

holding onto something in his well-stricken state. 

When he is surprised to find himself in conversation

with Gabriel, the heaven-sent angel (in church of all places),

Gabriel reports: "... your prayer has been heard ...";

and then Gabriel advises:  Elizabeth will bear ... a son,

and you will name him John" (Luke 1:13).

And so they did.  

John brought joy into their lives,

and they raised him up as a "nazarite,"

which meant life with restricted use

of grape and razor (see Numbers 6). 

The nazarite vow clearly spelled out "separation,"

holiness, and consecration to the Lord. 

From this beginning, there stood the promise: 

the boy born of one who was barren

will succeed in doing three things:

(1) he will turn the hearts of parents to their children;

(2) the disobedient will turn to the wisdom of the righteous;

(3) and a people will be prepared for the coming of the Lord.

(see Luke 1:17)

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This is background to John whose emergence

was narrated in Luke's lesson. 

We got the names of the powerful and well

positioned listed out for us; Luke offers us

a pyramidal view of the world:  at the top -

the Emperor Tiberius; next in line,

Pontius Pilate, governor in Judea;

then, Herod Antipas, who was in charge of Galilee

(and who really wanted to be in charge of it all!).

His brother, Philip, was running the shop to his north;

Lysanias was ruling in Abilene.

This is the political landscape;

and then there is the religious sector

where Caiaphus was high priest.  He was son-in-law

of Annas, retired, but still hanging around.

These are the people who had high public profile.

They were the players, the brokers, the ones who

made decisions that really did impact life.

It  was then in the reign of these,

the Word of God came to John.

It brings to mind the Psalm (121:1-2)

"I lift up my eyes unto the hills,

from whence cometh my help.

My help comes from the Lord,

who made the heavens and the earth."

"Help" does not come from the hills;

help comes from the Lord.

This is what the psalm asserts.

The real deal is One who doesn't reside in the hills,

but the One who made the hills,

who is equally at home in hill, in valley,

for both height and depth

are cradles of divinity.

So Luke is reporting:  

the Word of God comes -

not to the high and mighty,

not to those who purport to design and shape the world,

but to one whose name is off line,

unknown to any search engine

save that of God.

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THE WORD OF GOD CAME TO JOHN
WHEN THE WORLD WAS IN AGONY

This lesson intersects with our lives

in a number of ways. 

The ancient world was twisted; knotted in what we

might call an unsustainable system. John Dominic Crossan

has written of what he calls a program of

Romanization by urbanization for commercialization,

which we would call globalization, which was stressing

the world from which John had withdrawn in order to be holy.

Decisions were made in Roman and other corporate boardrooms

that had real consequences on people, pressuring them to conform,

to get ahead or get left behind.  We might say: 

Walmart was moving into the neighborhood,

and sides were lined up, for and against it!

If Luke's read is even close, then families were stressed and

in a state of emotional if not relationship breakdown. 

When your family is broken, the soul is in agony. 

Part of John's mission, as we mentioned, was

to turn the hearts of parents to their children. 

It is a most telling phrase, an indication of the agony,

an indictment of the system(s)

callously manipulating life, for the profit of some, but not

for the good of all.

Isn't it true also of our world?

In 1993, in a meeting of on the centennial anniversary of the first

Parliament of World Religions in Chicago, a paper was presented

crafted largely by Hans Kung, the German Roman Catholic theologian,

whose faith-filled heart and spirit proved too generous for the Vatican.

The paper:  "Declaration Toward a Global Ethic."

It begins: "The world is in agony."

And it continues:

"The agony is so pervasive and urgent that we are compelled

to name its manifestations so that the depth of this pain may

be made clear."

"Peace eludes us - the planet is being destroyed -

neighbors live in fear - women and men are estranged

from each other - children die!"

"This is abhorrent."

Fast forward to December, 2009. 

The world is still in agony,

and more so than ever

we are caught in a grip unbreakable.

The hearts of parents remain

to be turned to their children. 

As you may know, I serve on two non-profit boards,

SCAN and Crossroad.  Both serve children troubled,

neglected, abused, abandoned.  So this year has been a year -

funding is tight, cuts have been made, and more cuts.  And when

the cutting is done, word comes from Indianapolis -  cut more.

Agony - it is not too strong a word for those involved.

Every age is apparently so afflicted.

Indeed it was present in the early Christian movement.

"We know that the whole creation has been groaning in

labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we

ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan

inwardly while we wait ..." (Romans 8:22-23).

The labor pain, the agony, is personal - so Paul asserts. 

It is from within. 

And from within also -   

a spirit of grace and the courage to protest?  

Note the terse wording in the

 "Declaration for a Global Ethic,"

"This agony need not be." 

"There is truth known,

but yet to be lived

in heart and action."

Here is a lesson: 

the truth known is antidote

to the agonies of the world.

The truth known? 

Treat others as we wish to be treated.

It is a variation on loving neighbor

as one would hope to love oneself.

What the world needs now is a

receptive and courageous people

willing and wanting to live the truth

in heart and action. 

Advent - isn't it time to expose the agonies,

asking of God, the truth once made known -  

come again, live in my heart and through my action.

THE WORD OF GOD CAME TO JOHN AND
CAUSED JOHN TO CHANGE HIS WAY

John is well known to have prompted change in the lives of many,

but I'm fascinated also that the Word delivered to him

changed his life.

The point:  no one is off limits to amazing grace,

to having their course in life in some way altered,

if not reversed.

It may be from bad to not-so-bad;

it may be from good to better,

or it may be from better yet,

to the more excellent way (I Corinthians 12:31).

What is important is this prodding activity of the divine Word,

moving, melting, molding us, that we become

what we would not otherwise be. 

John is an example of one whose life was changed,

and surprisingly so, because I assume there were

a lot of folks who thought John was holy and pretty

good being John without the notoriety of being the Baptist.

He was child of promise,

long prayed for,

nurtured in the church;

he was nothing if not filled with devotion.

He was a child who sang what he was taught,

who prayed as he was instructed,

who ate and fasted, who abstained and refrained,

as expected.

What traditions the elders in his life laid out, he followed.

He was no problem child, who willingly, obediently,

separated himself in a life of holiness.

I'm guessing the world's first bumper sticker

that said:  "My child is on the honor roll

at the Jerusalem High" was glued to the cart

driven by Zechariah and Elizabeth.  

Yet the Word of God came to John and thrust him out of his life,

into some other, where he immersed himself in the agonies

of the world - to reconcile the world - for good.

We often think of what good God can do for others.

Today, we might ponder, what good is God asking of us.

THE WORD OF REPENTANCE
RESTORES HOPE AND BRINGS PEACE

A final thought.

John came proclaiming a

baptism of repentance

for the forgiveness of sins.

Repentance is the key word here.

It is an act, a resolution of the mind and heart,

that restores hope and brings peace -

both within and without.

It recognizes: the "agony need not be."

There is a way, different, better, graceful,

merciful, forgiving, fulfilling, that can make

straight what life and its own willfulness

can so abhorrently twist.

Repentance is recognition - I have not fully

lived with the responsibility of which I am capable.

Repentance is knowing and trusting God to assist

to smooth what we've roughed up.

Repentance is embracing the truth of God in Christ,

and planting that truth within heart and mind and every action,

so that we are defined, not as pawns of the powerful,

not as victims subject to agony, but as insuperable children,

preparing the way of the Lord.

This is the work of Advent,

that our way might bend to the way of God,

that we might bow and so receive the blessings

of the Child, our hearts turning,

for our good, our peace, our wholeness.

Amen.