Westminster Presbyterian Church

Second Sunday in Advent    

Isaiah 40: 1-11, Mark 1: 1-8

 A survey recently asked Americans if they were thought things were going in the right direction, or if things were on the wrong track. Three quarters of those asked said that in their view, it seems like things are on the wrong track in the economy and the world.[i] 

In our reading from the New Testament, John the Baptist appears to hold a similar view as he looked out at the world of his time; things in his view were on the wrong track.  John was a voice from the wilderness, someone who cried out about injustice and all the things that were not in keeping with God’s kingdom and vision for the world.  He called people to turn around and live their lives in a new direction.  

We are beginning the year of Mark in our Scripture readings, and in Mark’s gospel, the story of Jesus does not begin with Mary and Joseph and the babe in a manger (as it does in Mathew and Luke).  Nor does Mark’s gospel linger in the lofty realms of theology as does the gospel of John, which begins with the Word made flesh.  Here in Mark, we are introduced to the story of Jesus through the striking character, John the Baptist, a fiery prophet from the wilderness. 

Mark shows John the Baptist as part of a succession of Old Testament prophets, who lent their voices to cry out for a more just and peaceful world.  One way we are shown John’s continuity with the earlier prophets is through his rather remarkable dress.  He is clothed in camel’s hair, which the scholars tell us was an “outfit several centuries out of fashion, just the kind of clothing worn by the prophet Elijah.”  John’s “retro clothing”[ii] links him with the earlier prophets and their call for justice, as God continued to try to get the attention of God’s people over the centuries. 

Mark’s gospel is the earliest of all the gospels, written around 70 AD, during a time of persecution of Christians by the oppressive Roman regime.   Mark’s congregation was longing to hear a word of hope, that the powers of the world would soon be supplanted by the coming reign of God.

Like people in our day, they were in need of some good news in difficult times.  But John suggested that to hear the good news, they first needed to take stock of what sort of life they had been living.  And John calls us, too, to do this, to have a “fierce conversation,”[iii] where we confront old patterns we know are detrimental to living a full life, yet which remain in place year after year out of habit or fear.  John calls us to repentance; he is not interested in our berating ourselves for the ways we fall short of what we know we should be doing with our lives.  He doesn’t want us to carry around a heavy load of guilt for past wrongs, or regret for the unintended consequences of choices we have made.  But the repentance he seeks involves a radical re-orientation of our lives, from a focus on ourselves and our needs, to the love of God and the people God has given us to love.  This is the penitence and preparation that are part of these Advent weeks leading up to Christmas.

We hear echoes of John the Baptist’s voice in voices calling for a reconsideration of the consumerism that marks this time of year in our culture. The Register Guard reported on the occupy movement in Boise, Idaho, who sent their members, dressed as what they called "consumer zombies" to wander around the local shopping mall in silent protest of excessive spending.[iv] 

With the economy still uncertain, many are rethinking how they celebrate over the holidays, planning to make their own Christmas presents, or bake something homemade for friends and family.  As you go into the narthex this morning, you will see one example of this in the beautiful Christmas cards Diana Corner and our Deacons have made for the homebound members of the church, not buying cards, but crafting them with the love and care of the congregation. 

In his critique of our culture’s misplaced priorities, John the Baptist might have had something to say about a recent story in the New York Times.  They reported on the Neiman Marcus holiday fantasy catalog, which offered Ferrari sports cars with a luggage set matching the interior.  These were priced at $395,000 each, and they sold ten of them in the first 50 minutes when the catalog was released.[v]

And John the Baptist might have something to say about an incident that happened at a Walmart on Long Island.  It happened on a black Friday, the shopping day after Thanksgiving.  Larger crowds than expected gathered, awaiting early specials. When the doors opened, a pregnant woman was injured in the crush of people surging forward.[vi] 

In a season when we await the birth of the Christ child, this injury of an expectant mother seems a striking metaphor of how far our society has drifted from seeking the things that really matter, the things that will last when the last gift has broken or been discarded.   

These stories all sound a concerning note as to the tenor of our times.  Into all of this, John the Baptist comes with the offer of a cleansing bath to wash away the stain of old patterns, and offer us a new beginning before God. 

I remember once swimming out to a waterfall in a wilderness area in Australia, bracing to swim under where the water was cascading down.  Standing there under the huge flow of water, being nearly beaten down, there was something of the sense that the people baptized by John would have experienced.  God gave water to flow down, to wash away their sins, their failings and shortcomings, to grant them a new start, one that is offered us as well.

Our Old Testament reading from Isaiah also tells of preparing the way for the coming messiah.  Isaiah proclaims to his people in exile, “all flesh is grass,” our earthly lives are here and then gone.   In uncertain days, we feel this at times, when the markets threaten to implode, or when we have to endure invasive scans at the airport that are now a part of life.  Such times leave us more aware of how fleeting and fragile is life, that all flesh is grass, our days are like the flowering and fading of the grass of the field.  To God’s people, Isaiah brings a note of hope, “Comfort, comfort my people.”   In all that changes, we can hold fast to  “the word of the Lord that endures,” long after all that flowers and fades is gone.

Both Isaiah and John the Baptist were called to proclaim God’s word of hope.  And in Advent season, we are each of us called to share the “comfort and consolation”[vii] of Christ that is God’s gift of light when the days are dark.

Some in our world don’t know they are in exile, working day to day, not missing a sense of God’s presence.  For a time, nesting at home, providing for a family may fill any sense of emptiness.  But we are not created simply for comfort.  John the Baptist comes to remind us that we are created for community, to be part of God’s coming reign and rule.  There comes a time when we are called out by God to lift our voice in preparation for the coming Christ.  Like parents who prepare the nursery for an expected baby, we are called to change the orientation of our lives toward one of expectant hope. 

Like Isaiah and John, we are called to be messengers of grace to all whom we’ll meet in this holy season.  And some are called like John the Baptist, to lend their voices to those crying out for a more just and peaceful world.

Some ways you might live this out include bringing toys and clothing for families in need through the Deacon’s Christmas baskets and the giving tree, or inviting someone along for a Christmas service, perhaps next Sunday when the choir will sing its concert or for the carol service on Christmas day.  You never know what a difference you might make for someone, brightening an otherwise dark season with your company and care. 

On Oregon Public radio, a woman told of how years ago, she found a basket on her doorstep just before Christmas with groceries and toys, and a note saying “I know how hard you’re working.  Hope you have a merry Christmas.”  The note wasn’t signed.  She was a single mother at the time, and those baskets appeared each Christmas for several years until she finished her college degree and got a better job.   She wondered who had given them, and was able to find out from the local grocer that it was someone she barely knew, the friend of a friend. 

Once she was back on her feet, the following Christmas she decided to continue the tradition and thought of someone at work who was having a hard time, and she arranged a similar basket, and left the same kind of note, “I know how hard you’re working, hope you have a Merry Christmas.”  This has become her tradition for the past ten Christmases now.[viii]

In this Advent season, may you use these days for reflection and re-orientation, to bring before God those places that need to be plunged beneath the flood of God’s forgiveness and restoration.  Use these days to share the gifts you’ve been given with those whose lives are shadowed by need.  And use these days to share the comfort and joy of Christ’s coming with someone who by choice or chance is alone this Christmas.

Prepare the way in your hearts.  For Christ is coming soon.

Let us pray:  Lord God, help us to hear your word of comfort that endures long after all that the world gives or takes away.  Help us to share your love and hope with all whom we encounter in the coming days.  May we prepare a place for the coming of Christ our Savior, we pray.  Amen. 

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