“The voice of one calling in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’”
In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
With Thanksgiving barely over the streets and malls are already decorated for Christmas and commercials and ads are convincing us to get into the holiday spirit (which of course involves spending money). Many of us are already preparing our homes and our schedules for the season we are convinced needs to observed with gusto. Thank God for Advent. While we shop, trim the tree, and plan parties, the Church is preparing, too, not for a holiday but for a Holy Day.
How does the Church prepare us for this Advent of the Christ? By immersing us in a different kind of beauty, a quieter, more reflective time with muted colors, shadows and light, one more candle on the wreath each week, the haunting melody of “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” running beneath our reflections, and stories from the Scriptures (both Old and New Testaments) which speak passionately and eloquently of God’s salvation about to break into the world to make us a whole and holy people.
But this week there are no familiar stories that we associate with Christmas.
We will get to that soon enough and we will hear about Mary’s visit to her cousin Elizabeth when Elizabeth’s child will leap for joy in her womb with the news of the coming Messiah. But this week we hear of Elizabeth’s child much later on, a grown man bursting onto the scene from out of the wilderness, a man on a mission from God. This time, instead of leaping for joy, he announces the time of God’s salvation by proclaiming a message of repentance and preparation of a different sort: This John the Baptist announces that the hour has come, the time is at hand for a radical change of heart, a course adjustment, a renewal of our spirits. People who introduce themselves as bearing a message from God do not commend themselves to us easily. If we do turn an ear to them out of curiosity, or perhaps out of an amused and sometimes horrified fascination, they tend to wear out their welcome quickly.
Yet one person in particular accepted John’s harsh style. One person admired his tenacity and single-mindedness, someone whose opinion we cannot dismiss. Jesus not only welcomed John’s ministry, he gave it the highest praise. Perhaps the overwhelming single attribute that commends John to us is that his whole being is directed to a focus beyond himself. He has hardly appeared on the scene when he insists that this is not about him but about preparation for another who is yet to come into public consciousness. The irony of John the Baptist’s life is that while he is passionately proclaiming his message of judgment on his own society, we come to realize what a magnificent person he is. It may be that he remains significant for us because he is the preparer (as he calls himself) for Jesus’ appearance. But John is far from being the warm-up act for the main attraction. He brings the music of his great humanity, his courage, his unaffected humility, his faithfulness in the face of suffering and death. No wonder Jesus thought the world of him.
What MapQuest had indicated was a real road was, in fact, a road under construction. He should have known, the man sighed to himself. When he had turned onto the road and left the main highway, there had been a warning: “Proceed at Your Own Risk. Construction Ahead.” But the sign gave no information about how long the stretch of construction was. Just past the turn-off the surface was paved, but there were no markings, just blacktop. After a few miles the asphalt gave way to gravel and a thin layer of tar. The smell of the tar and the sound of gravel bouncing up against the bottom of the car got the children’s attention. They had been sleeping in the back seat, dozing while the family made its way to the next stop on their vacation. They had slept while their father had driven them through this vast section of forested wilderness on their way to the lodge in a national park where they had reservations. “Are we there yet?” “How much farther?” “We have a ways to go,” said Dad as he rifled through the glove box looking to see if he still had an old-fashioned map in the car.
When the gravel ended and they hit dirt, he started to worry. It didn’t help that they seemed to be the only people on this road. Worse yet, what at first seemed to be dirt was actually mud. He decided to keep driving and hope that this was just a bad patch and that the “real” road was just ahead. It was clear, though, that the car had now begun to sink. The pinging noise of gravel against the car’s undercarriage had given way to a slurping sound as the tires kicked up mud and were then enveloped by it. “I just have to keep going,” he thought. “If I can just keep moving forward we’ll be alright, I’m sure.” But the mud deepened and the car became mired, sunk right up to the chassis. He gunned the engine but the car only sunk deeper. He turned off the engine. “What’s happening, Dad?” the children asked. “Are we there yet?” At first he thought about sarcastically answering, “Why yes we are. Look at all the fascinating scenery!” He thought about suing MapQuest or the highway department for their useless sign. But instead he told the children they would need to be patient and maybe they could teach him some songs they had learned in Sunday School while they waited for help to come by.
And help came – in the form of a tow truck with great big tires that traveled that stretch of road in case things like this happened. The car was towed back to the main road and directions were given for a much longer, but passable route to their destination. That part of the family vacation became known as the “repentance trip” because it embodied so well the definition of repentance – an active turning around, rather than continuing down the same path, going in the same direction that is leading nowhere or somewhere dangerous.
Repentance is not the same as remorse or regret. It is not listing all the ways things could have been done differently. It is not wishing you were a better person or that some things had never happened. It’s not feeling guilty or ashamed. It’s not feeling afraid. It’s not something that leaves us stuck, or standing still, or going nowhere. Repentance is about movement, allowing yourself to be grasped by God, getting your bearings, and relying on God for directions.
The new life that follows repentance, the new direction that comes with a fresh start is what John the Baptist is proclaiming in the wilderness. John’s message is a call to action. Repentance comes in many ways, when God turns us around, offers us a way to get unstuck, shows us how to move ahead with a new way of life.
It is Advent and during this darkest time of year there is a flicker of light. It beckons us. We yearn for it and are drawn toward it. It is enkindled in our hearts and can burn brightly in our lives if we but tend to it properly. It is the Advent of the Christ. The hour is coming for us to step into the Light.
Amen.
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