THIRD SUNDAY OF ADVENT
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Readings: Philippians 4: 4-7 and Luke 3: 7-18
“What then should we do?”
This was the question the crowds asked John the Baptist when he warned them that there was wrath to come. Today’s gospel passage follows on from last week’s where we learnt of John’s appearance in the wilderness.
I mentioned the term minimalism last week, and there seemed to be no better example of a minimalist than John the Baptist. Living in the wilderness, wearing a cloth of camel’s hair and a leather belt around his waist, eating locusts and wild honey, he must have presented quite a spectacle. As W.S. Gilbert might have said, as of Mad Margaret in Ruddigore ‘He didn’t spend much on linen drapers!”
Every now and again a community or society is brought to a crisis of some sort – a crisis of conscience or a crisis of identity, particularly if some evil or critical event has caused people to question public morality or standards. I’m sure you can think of many examples of an event causing us to shudder and wonder what sort of world we are bringing children into; how we have let corruption or moral decay set in to such an extent that this tragedy has occurred, or that social evil been perpetrated.
John the Baptist made his appearance at a time when decay had firmly set in, in both the Jewish religion and the nation. The Jewish kingdom had gone; the Romans had moved in and divided it into three territories. Herod Antipas was ruler of Galilee – he was son of Herod the Great who met the wise men and had the infants killed at Bethlehem. Herod Antipas may have been ruler of Galilee, but he was still subservient to the Romans. The power had gone from the Jewish kingdom with the glory attached to it through the name of David. So there was the yearning for a new national leader, who would restore the health and glory of the nation. There was a general feeling around that the fullness of time had come. Many of the ordinary folk, if not their spiritual leaders, saw that religious life was in great need of reform, for it had become corrupt both in rule and authority.
We can see that John came at the right psychological moment. A great preacher might walk into a crowded meeting, but unless the people there are in some sense ready to hear the message, the preacher may not meet with great response. But it seems the people of Judaea were ready. They were asking, “What then should we do?” And that cry still comes not just from those who realise their need to repent, or who are questioning the morality of the society they live in; that cry will come from those desperate for help, for direction, for comfort, for good news at a time when there doesn’t seem to be much about.
Now a prophet is not necessarily one who looks forward and foretells what he or she sees. A prophet is one who can see deeply into the issues of the particular time; who can recognise and put into words what is going on now. A prophet may give voice to what many other people are thinking but can’t put in to words. Such was the ministry of the American civil rights leader Martin Luther King in the 1960s, or Nelson Mandela. In the bible, prophets are prophets because they perceive truth that God has communicated to them directly. John the Baptist comes over as a very authentic kind of person; you got what you saw. Maybe like Benjamin Zephaniah in appearance; Alexei Navalny in integrity; Dennis Skinner or Tam Dalyell for bloody-minded persistence.
St Luke tells us that many of the people in John’s day considered that he was the Messiah. But like many good prophets, he was the pointer, the messenger, the catalyst. He recognised that his cousin Jesus was the expected one. But it seems he may have been disappointed that nothing happened very quickly in terms of judgment coming, for he later sent to Jesus to ask, “Are you the one to come, or do we look for another?” As we know from the terrible story of Syria over the last dozen years or more, for instance, the fact that the moment seems to have arrived for judgment, peace or freedom, as it did when the ‘Arab Spring’ dawned, doesn’t necessarily mean that it will happen quickly.
It’s significant that ordinary people responded to John’s call to repentance: the soldiers, the tax-collectors, and all sorts of folk who make up a crowd. The soldiers and tax-collectors were no-one’s favourites: they were mistrusted people. Yet Luke records them asking, “What should we do?” The reply John gave did not call on people to go out and change the world in any big way, nor to forsake everything and join the sort of strict monastic community that we believe John himself to have been a member of. His instructions were simple and straightforward. To the tax-collectors “Collect no more than is prescribed for you.” To the soldiers, “Don’t extort money by threats or false accusation, and be content with your wages.” To the crowd, “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; likewise, share food.” John was urging the people to live simply, honestly, peaceably.
We’re often perplexed at what we can do to solve the problems of the world, but if we can only put our own house in order, and live in the right relationship with others around us, then God’s kingdom will have come much nearer. But even that is easier said than done. A church minister once asked his congregation to move seats, for a particular reason. Slowly, and resentfully, they did so, but it took a long and sluggish time. The minister continued, “If it’s taken so much effort just to change seats, imagine what it’s going to take to change your life.”
John would probably have approved! He preached in the wilderness, and people had made the effort to go out of their way to hear him. That was the first step. The second, he said, was to repent. As I’m sure you’ve heard before, the meaning of the Greek word used for ‘repent’ – metanoia – doesn’t mean simply apologizing. It means making a U-turn in your life; showing in practical ways that you mean what you say about regrets and the need for amendments. Only in the space that opens up in such recognition can God’s forgiveness be fully discovered. John focussed on those in positions of power, where exploitation can be unchallenged – those with wealth, authority and control of others. And he preached the uncomfortable truth that the social form of love is justice, and that we all need judgement – a reality check on ourselves – in order to be changed.
The short reading from Philippians would, on the face of it, seem to have little connection with the stern warnings of John the Baptist. But one short phrase – ‘The Lord is at hand’ – seems to be the reason for its inclusion as one of the readings today. St Paul was writing from prison, and there may have been a sense of crisis in his own life – prison today, who knows what tomorrow? But also, as I am sure you have heard before, he sensed that the return of the Lord was imminent. His mind was very focussed on using the present moment to best effect. So we have the Advent themes of repentance and change, and readiness for encounter with God reaffirmed in our two readings. ‘Rejoice’ may not be the first emotion that would come into our minds if incarcerated in prison and anticipating the close of the age, but a hallmark of every Christian life should be prayer and supplication with thanksgiving. So St Paul can say, “Rejoice in the Lord always; and again I say, Rejoice!”
A realisation that this life is not the be-all and end-all should enable us to make the most of every moment, but not to hang on to it; instead we should look forward to what God has prepared for them that love him. In this way ‘The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard our hearts and our minds in Christ Jesus.’