Third Sunday in Advent -- Lectionary A: Isaiah 35:1-10; Psalm 146:4-9; James 5:7-10; Matthew 11:2-12
I was cleaning out some things this week and came across some papers, among which were some cartoons I had saved. I must have been having a bad day, for one of the cartoons was Ziggy sitting at a desk with two letter trays, each piled high with papers. One tray was labeled “Trials,” and the other was labeled “Tribulations.” I’ve sat at that desk a few times.
The other cartoon was an old knight with shattered armor sitting against a tree. His horse was gone, his lance was broken, and the caption read, “Some days the dragon wins.”
When I saw that cartoon I thought about the Gospel reading for today concerning John the Baptist. John was a brave old knight, but he was broken and beaten, sitting in an underground dungeon. John had felt invincible. After all, his parents had told him about the miraculous events surrounding his birth that had left everyone buzzing for years — his mother’s pregnancy in old age, when everyone assumed she would always be childless; his father’s speechless condition after a visit by the angel Gabriel, during Zechariah’s service as priest in the temple. Gabriel had told Zechariah hat John would have the spirit and power of Elijah, preparing people for the coming of the Messiah. That’s heady stuff. What can happen to you when God has chosen you for that kind of a special purpose? After all, Elijah went up in a chariot of fire at the end of his ministry after facing down the political powers of his day. How could it not be the same for John, especially now that the Messiah had been revealed to him at his baptism? It was obvious God’s hand was on John in a powerful way.
But now the unthinkable has happened — the dragon appears to have won. Herod, whom John had publicly excoriated, was sitting comfortably in his palace watching his dancing girls, and John was feeling the lash of the flesh tearing whip and laying in an underground cell. John, who was a fiercely independent person living out in the wilderness, is now confined with all freedom gone. He is a wild man living in a cage. He was not a reed shaken by the wind; his convictions were fierce and his preaching came down like a hammer. He was not like a courtier, dressed in fine clothes and flattering the king in order to obtain favors. No, he was a prophet who had the courage to get in Herod’s face. And he wasn’t an ordinary prophet, he was the herald of the Christ, announcing his advent into the world. John was not able to understand the situation. He was to be the herald of the Christ and Jesus was to be the Messiah. If that was true, then how was it that the dragon appeared to be winning? It didn’t make sense. But what if he had been told that he would not only be imprisoned, but beheaded? If he was having trouble with the reality of his own imprisonment, how would he have handled the news that Jesus was to be imprisoned, beaten and crucified? It takes the air out of the triumphalism John had nurtured.
The epistle reading today has James saying to us to be patient in suffering. It is not something we like to hear. It doesn’t sound like good news. We don’t want to be patient in suffering, we want to be triumphant over it. We want to win and our enemies to lose, or even be destroyed. But James gives us three examples of patience: a farmer, the prophets, and (if you read one more verse) Job. A farmer knows that the condition of the field at the beginning of the season is not what it will be at the end of the season — when it’s harvest time. Now the land may appear barren, but then it will yield its full crop. The prophets spoke realizing they were talking of things not yet here, but were certain to come about in God’s timing. The prophets were also an example because they patiently suffered while they faithfully spoke God’s truth and carried out his will. Even so, they, like us, often complained to God because they could not understand why he did not act more immediately and forcefully. Jeremiah said, “You are always righteous, O Lord, when I bring a case before you. Yet I would speak with you about your justice: Why does the way of the wicked prosper? Why do all the faithless live at ease?” (Jeremiah 12:1). Job suffered the loss of his children, friends and possessions, but as he sat in the ashes, scraping his festering sores with a broken piece of pottery, he said to his wife, who had suggested that he curse God and die: “Shall we accept good from God and not trouble?” That is the existential question. All of these people struggled and suffered, yet these strugglers are given to us as examples of faith and perseverance.
What is interesting is that Matthew tells us that it was when John heard all the wonderful things Jesus was doing that he sent his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?” (Matthew 11:3). It is not because he does not know what Christ is doing, it is because he is hearing about the powerful things he is doing. But for John something is still missing. Jesus’ response to John’s inquiry is almost a quote from the passage in Isaiah we read this morning. He said, “Go back and report to John what you hear and see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor. Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me” (Matthew 11:4-6).
Why would John need to be warned about falling away? Well, remember the preaching of John. The Gospel reading last week had John saying about the Messiah: “The ax is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire. . . . His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor, gathering his wheat into the barn and burning up the chaff with unquenchable fire” (Matthew 3:10-12). John was taking for granted the works of power. That is exactly what we should expect from the Messiah. What is missing for John is the part of Isaiah’s prophecy in our Old Testament lesson today: “Say to those who are of a fearful heart, ‘Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God. He will come with vengeance, with terrible recompense. He will come and save you’” (Isaiah 35:4-5). John may have been remembering the promise we read in the Psalm today, “Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord their God. . . who executes justice for the oppressed. . . .The Lord sets the prisoners free” (Psalm 146:5-6). Jesus used the words of Isaiah to explain his mission when he said: “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed” (Luke 4:18). But where is the release for this captive? Why is John still in prison and Herod gorging himself at banquets?
John wanted to be set free. He wanted judgment and justice! The healings were nice, but he wanted to see fire. It would be great to see Herod’s palace destroyed by an enormous bolt of lightning, and certainly Herod deserved it. But none of that would happen. Herod would continue in power, and John would die. Soon after, Jesus would be crucified. The disciples would be scattered. Jesus’ followers would be brutalized. For a time it would look like the dragon had won.
All of us can identify with John from time to time. We can become disillusioned, even angry, with God because he is not who we thought he was. Why doesn’t he act to crush evil and injustice? Where is he when I need him? We live in a prison of doubt, fear and disappointment with God. God has left us with unmet expectations. It is a common condition of many, if not most, of the biblical characters. They complain to God. They struggle with God. But to turn away altogether means we have to turn toward something else — and exactly what would that something else be? Is there a brighter, greater hope somewhere else? Like the disciples, when asked by Jesus if they were going to leave him like all the rest, replied, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life” (John 6:68). Like John we all doubt and are tempted to despair, but God understands and is patient with us. In spite of John’s doubts and wavering at this point, Jesus did not condemn him, he understood — as he understands us — and he complimented him, saying: “Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist” (Matthew 11:11).
How does the farmer have the patience to wait for the crop to appear and ripen? How do prophets have the patience to endure persecution and wait for the promise to be fulfilled? They both know that the present cannot fully speak to all that is, or all that the future will be. In other words, they live in hope and anticipation. They believe in a promise. Hope comes when we surrender to who God really is, not who we have imagined him to be. We surrender to what God is doing and how God is doing it, rather than insisting it be another way. Hope is letting God be God. Hope is trusting, even though we do not understand, or like, what is happening. The season of Advent is all about waiting, but it is not futile and pointless like waiting for Godot. Advent is about waiting in hope — a hope that is as sure as the future of God. It is a hope that defies the present circumstances because it chooses to trust God — even in the darkness. It may include reexamining our presuppositions about who the Messiah should be and what he should do.
Last year, a particularly dark film came out entitled Children of Men. It is about the world in the year 2027 where no children have been born for 18 years. Imagine a world like that. A world with no need for toys. Churches with no children or youth. The doors of Kenyon College closing because no children are growing up to take the place of the current students. No children’s laughter or playgrounds. No hope for the future. But injected into this film, shot with grey and brown as primary colors, is a pregnant girl. Her name is Kee, and she is the key to the future of the world. The plot of the film is to get Kee and her baby out of the present world situation and onto a mysterious, and considered by many to be an purely mystical, ship owned by an organization known as “The Human Project.” The protagonist is interestingly named Theo, the word for “God.” Kee names her baby after Theo’s son, the metaphor being that he is the son of God. In the film, all who see Kee’s swollen belly are shocked and exclaim with surprise: “Jesus Christ!” Profanity turns to prophecy. The film ends with the Human Project’s ship pulling alongside the little rowboat where Kee is sitting holding her baby riding the waves, like Mary riding on a donkey. Theo is also in the boat, but he has been killed in his attempt to bring hope to the world. And we are left with only hope and anticipation of what this baby will mean to a barren and hopeless world and what will happen as a result — a symbol of Advent.
One of the things which makes the film interesting is that the two sides, which are fighting and killing off an already dying race, are each trying to use the baby for their own purposes. They want the baby so they can get the remaining masses to come over to their side. Neither are content to allow the baby to simply be a baby. If we had read just one more verse in our Gospel lesson for today, we would have heard Jesus say, “From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force” (Matthew 11:12). The kingdom of God is often forcibly opposed by violent, hostile people. There are always those who want to use Christ for their own political purposes and ends. But nothing can hinder or hold back the kingdom of God. It would be like trying to stop the sunrise, trying to stifle Spring or hold back the harvest. As Isaiah said, the crocus will suddenly spring out of the icey mud, the desert will blossom, sorrow and sighing will flee away and everlasting joy shall be upon our heads. The Promise of Advent is on his way, and nothing in earth or hell will be able to stop his coming. The light shines in the world’s darkness, and all the world’s darkness cannot overcome it (John 1:5).
Rodney J. Buchanan
rodbuchanan2000@yahoo.com
