THE FORERUNNER
12 13 09
LUKE 1:57-63, 80
MATTHEW 3:1-15
ANTHONY E. ACHESON, M.DIV.
This past week we studied Luke 1 in our Thursday night Bible study. We sometimes forget that these early chapters in Luke’s and Matthew’s gospels that tell us about the birth of Jesus, begin by telling us as well about the birth of John the Baptist as we just read about in both Luke 1, and then in Matthew 3, describing the emergence of John the Baptist into public life as an adult.
When I was growing up there was book that was very popular called ‘How to win friends and influence people,’ by, I believe, Dale Carnegie. John the Baptist was definitely not a subscriber to the ‘How to win friends and influence people school of thinking, or of doing religious work. And when we think of some of the other elements of the Christmas story, he doesn’t seem to fit very well, does he, with the shepherds, or wise men and angels that we traditionally associate with the Christmas story. John the Baptist can at times seem like a little bit of an unpopular and unwanted uncle that we are not fully sure we want to invite to the party, but never quite feel free to disinvite.
From the very beginning everything about John was unique. We are told that he fed on wild locusts and honey. He dressed in garments of scratchy camel hair which might be analogous today to wearing a wool suit on a warm day. He constantly brooded over the scriptures, especially the prophetic ministry of Elijah, after whom he modeled his own ministry. He seems to have conducted most of his public teaching in the solitude of Judea, which was a rugged desert wilderness. He was not a respecter of persons or rank. Because of his intimidating personality and the sharpness of his message, the upper class folk, especially, tended to view him with contempt.
But despite all that, John did gather a considerable following. What was it that drew people? Many apparently thought he was Elijah the prophet who had returned. But there was more to John than simply a bizarre, strange life. John the Baptist appears to have had a strong sense, an intuition if you will-or a revelation– that something was about to happen, something that would change the world permanently, and he needed to prepare the way for that event. How did he do that?
First, he prepared himself inwardly. He prepared himself by his willingness to go out into that wilderness. Living in the wilderness involved learning to live a life of simplicity, and discipline. He prepared himself as well by learning to live with the silence that the wilderness imposes and that the spiritual life requires.
How different that is from the instant gratification ethic of modern Western and American culture. The contemporary culture you and I live in is not much oriented toward preparation or practice. Our contemporary culture is much more likely to urge us to go for it, to just do it, to go for the gusto, to get the goods while is the getting is good, and so forth. In today’s culture we tend to love to play the game much more than we like to prepare for it, or practice or train for it. We love being in the middle of the action, to shoot the goal, catch the touchdown, hit the home run-or perhaps to sing that solo that brings tears to the audience’s eyes. But we don’t love the work of preparation quite so much.
But if we really want to be able to do such things with any consistency, if we want to do them right, we have to practice. We have to prepare ourselves out in the hot sun, or up in the dark choir loft, or back in a cramped office study, or hunched over our violin, or oboe or computer, or wherever it is, doing whatever it takes to do things truly well. Back in the 1970’s, the great heavyweight boxing champion, Joe Frazier, once said, “Nobody will ever see you cutting any corners in the speed or distance of your running out there in the early hours of the morning; people will never notice if you cut back on the number of jump-ropes or pushups you do. But I can guarantee you that the whole world is very much going to see the results of those shortcuts out in the glare of the lights when you’re actually boxing, when you’re actually fighting the real match out in the ring.”
As we saw earlier, John the Baptist appears to have had a strong sense that something major was about to happen in human history and he wanted to play a part in birthing that new reality. His ability to, in fact, be a vehicle of preparing for the advent of that event, the coming of the Christ, was made possible, first, by doing his own inner preparation.
And then secondly, John the Baptist was able to be a vehicle for the coming of the Messiah not only by his inner preparations, but also by the consistency of his outward commitment. In an age of corruption John the Baptist was incorruptible. In a world of tremendous violence and cruelty, much like today, he spoke out fearlessly against wrong as he saw wrong around him. When the religious leaders from Jerusalem turned up in his crowds he did not feel complimented that they had done him the honor of attending. He called them, “a generation of vipers.” That is abrasive language, to be sure. It is not language that you or I might choose to use today. Nor is it language that I would recommend. But it is nonetheless a model to us of that aspect of religion that involves living a life of courage, and speaking truth to power.
The world has no answer to a genuinely committed life. Voltaire was a noted skeptic, but someone once asked him whether he completely ruled God out. He shook his head and said, “No, I can’t rule it out completely, because I once met Fletcher.” He was referring to John Fletcher who was an Anglican vicar, and also a close friend of John Wesley. The fundamentally decent quality of his life was a legend. It was Fletcher whom Wesley had designated as his own successor. But John Fletcher ended up dying first and when John Wesley preached the funeral, he referred to Fletcher as his ideal of an almost perfect man. Historians have commented on the remarkable impact of his goodness on many people he met. There may be answers or refutations to every kind of dogma or theology. But there is no answer against the example of a genuinely loving person.
During the Cold War there was a communist reporter who was conducting an in depth study of a Roman Catholic order of Nuns working in Paris. This hard bitten reporter, his name was Pierre Giraud, was convinced that the philanthropy and apparent tenderness of these women was most likely a cover for obtaining money for their institution. One day he accompanied one of the Nuns down some of the most dilapidated streets he had ever seen. In the basement of one house was a man who was terminally ill. The reporter had seen many grim conditions but these made even him wince. The smell was overpowering. The sick man lying on a bundle of rags was indescribably dirty. He was trembling. The nun picked up a bowl, filled it with water and began to wash him. Suddenly the sick man jerked up. “Sister”, he whimpered, “I am so frightened.” The reporter said “I stared in unbelief as I saw this refined, cultured woman take that filthy wreck of a man and hold him in her arms like a baby. Suddenly,” he wrote, “the hovel became a kind of heaven because of the love that was there.” He was overwhelmed by the goodness which he had seen.
The well educated intellectuals of the world may question and refute religious ideas-and in some cases legitimately so. But the world has no answer to a deeply loving and deeply committed life. The only appropriate answer to the example of a genuinely loving person is to try to be one ourselves, even if we can only achieve that in small, bite-sized portions. By the grace of heaven, those small portions can become larger offerings.
As we now move into this final week and a half before Christmas, the physical gestures of the gifts we give, or the meals we make, or the homes or churches we decorate, may seem small and may be small. But even in those small acts the spiritual nourishment can be great. As we take these small but great steps, and as we complete this Advent season, let us ask God, not only through our prayers but also through our preparation and our commitment, and our works of love and goodness, to allow a new birth of Christmas’s meanings, not just in the birth or celebration of that child called Christ, but in the elevation of our own acts of love as well.
And this we ask in the name of the living Christ. Amen.
