The third Sunday of advent is traditionally called “Gaudate” Sunday, which means “Rejoice.” And fittingly, we heard two readings that spill over with exuberant joy, the passage from Zephaniah and the one from Paul’s letter to the Philippians. “Rejoice in the Lord always. And again I say, rejoice!” Then the lectionary adds one curmudgeon to it, the “Brood of Vipers” guy from the Jordan River with his classical airing of grievances. I don’t know who paired these readings, but it’s almost funny how they counter each other. “Rejoice!” … “You Brood of Vipers!” But isn’t that at least somewhat representative of our world and our communities? Even in the midst of joy and anticipation, there is always one spoiler somewhere, right? And to be honest, sometimes the so-called party poopers are the most realistic people and keep us aware of the problems we are facing; they may provide an important counter-balance to those who want to see the good only. Light and darkness are in permanent struggle and John the Baptist relentlessly points out the shadows of humanity so that we may find our way back to the light. He constantly tells us, “You must change! You have a long way to go!” And Zephaniah chimes in, “Rejoice, people, you’re almost there!”
Last week I came across a piece of news that caught my eye because it was about the Holy Land and because it was GOOD NEWS from the Holy Land. Rejoice! Let’s face it, often news from that hallowed ground between the Jordan River and the Eastern Mediterranean Sea is not good. The angels don’t seem to be singing “Peace on Earth,” in most of the news reports that reach us from Israel and Palestine. So, I was delighted, I was rejoicing over this piece of news. It was about the presumed site of Jesus’ Baptism, not far from where John the Baptist prepared the way for the Lord, not far from where he met the crowds and chastised those who felt overly comfortable.
The site of Jesus’ Baptism. We are talking about a little watering hole in the Jordan Creek, which is slightly smaller than the Wissahickon Creek. I saw pictures of it after Rylie and Taelyn Gallagher visited the place of our Lord’s Baptism with a group from their school a number of years ago and brought back many pictures. What I didn’t know: While pilgrims have been able to visit a small area along the river bank, a wider zone of 250 acres, which includes churches of several different Christian denominations, has been off-limits for nearly 50 years. The reason? Around 3,000 anti-tank landmines were placed there by the Israeli military during its conflict with Jordanian forces during the Six Day War in 1967. The area, officially evacuated by the Israeli government in 1970, includes a Catholic chapel belonging to the Franciscans, Greek and Ethiopian Orthodox monasteries, and several Coptic Orthodox churches. All those places of worship have been off limits ever since.
When I read the backstory here, I thought, it gives us a whole new appreciation of the notion that God comes into this world, a whole new understanding of light coming into the darkness. Picture this: for fifty years, the place where the light broke through ad where the Spirit of God descended into this world, where Jesus was baptized, this place was surrounded by thousands of heavy duty landmines, with the potential to rip apart any human body upon impact. Pilgrims visited that place, happy and rejoicing to see where Jesus was baptized – and a few hundred yards away there were deadly landmines! To me that somehow rings true for everything that’s going on in this world. It is never a breeze for the good forces, that’s how it seems.
But now, and this is the good news, churches at the site are expected to reopen within a year, following progress on a project to clear thousands of landmines and other ordinance from the location. In a statement released December 9, the Israeli government and international anti-landmine workers praised the progress of efforts to clear explosives from the holy site. Located about 10 km east of the city of Jericho, this place is one of the most storied religious sites on earth. In addition to Jesus’ Baptism, it is also widely believed to be the location where the Israelites crossed the river Jordan initially and where the prophet Elijah was taken up into Heaven. Landmines are cleared from that place as we speak. Rejoice!
So, how is this for an advent metaphor? Christ is coming to clear the landmines from our lives. I know, the term landmine is very strong ammunition indeed. But aren’t there, in some of our families and communities, emotional landmines – things you can’t talk about, things that are closed off from conversation, things that will hurt simply by mentioning the topic? I am certainly not here to tell anyone to go out there and touch those “landmines,” because as with the real landmines along the Israeli-Jordanian border, that’s dangerous stuff that could explode in your face. But neither should we give up hope that we could one day talk about these things, listen to each other, understand each other, forgive each other, clear the borders between us and clean up the old ordinances. By adding those types of situations to our list of advent hopes, we acknowledge our own limitations, but at the same time, we do not give up hope, and we wait patiently for an opening. There may be a day when we can rejoice.
Meanwhile, our curmudgeon John the Baptist, whose given name means “God is grace,” but who comes across as ungracefully direct, is keeping it very practical, his call to repentance. He is anchoring everything in the here and now, in what people can do in the nitty-gritty daily-ness of everyone’s particular life. Instead of waiting for a holy someday that may or may not come, instead of betting on the famous magic silver bullet that will solve all of our woes at once, he suggests to inhabit the stuff of our lives as deeply and as generously as we can right now. Share now. Be merciful now. Do justice now. And he suggests common sense things, nothing overly idealistic. To the tax collectors, he says, “Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.” To the mercenaries: “Don’t extort money by threats or false accusations; be satisfied with your wages.” To the Pharisees and Sadducees: “Don’t allow your religious heritage to make you arrogant or complacent.” To everyone who has anything: “You have gifts to give. So stop hoarding. Stop procrastinating.” All very reasonable suggestions, are they not? If you were facing John today, what might John say to you? Think of one practical adjustment that would make a difference in your life and in that of others. Think of one area where God is calling your name. Nothing is too small or too trivial to make a difference.
And for now, leave the landmines where they are, but don’t give up hope and wait for an opening. One day they will be removed, either in this life or in the next and it will be a day of rejoicing and great exuberance and God will be in the center of our joy. Gaudate! Let us rejoice! For the day will surely come!
Amen.