The gospel for this Sunday begins with a dose of irony that is too often missed. We don’t expect it here, in the Holy Gospel leading up to the Nativity, and we don’t necessarily believe that the historian and doctor Luke possessed a sense of humor. In the beginning of chapter 3, Luke unfolds his usual tapestry of “who is who” and “who is in charge” to set the world stage for the story of Jesus’ birth. He mentions emperors, governors and kings, and then he reserves a wonderful punchline for the end of his introduction!
“In the 15th year of Tiberius’ reign as Emperor in Rome, when Pontius Pilate, Herod, Phillip and Lysanius were provincial governors, and the honorable Annas and Caiaphas served as high priests in the Temple of Jerusalem, God, in his infinite wisdom, chose to speak to a nobody named John living in the desert.” Applying the opening of chapter three to our times, it would read something like that: “In the year when Donald Trump ruled the United States, when former President George Herbert Walker Bush died, when the Lutheran Church in the US elected their first African American Bishop and Francis was Pope in Rome, the Word of God came to an old woman in the woods of north-central Pennsylvania, Tioga County.” Something like that… In other words, this text, which features John the Baptist, is a prelude to Christmas, Luke telling us, “If you want to hear God, if you want to meet the Lord, don’t spend too much time in all the obvious places, among the dignitaries, the famous and the respected. Go a little bit off the highway and into the wilderness. You might be surprised what you find there!
Once we realize the irony of this passage, we can more clearly see the impact of John as the fore-runner for the Incarnation. The God who is going to appear as a baby in a stable doesn’t need the validation of a palace or a priest for that matter. And if we think about the Word of God coming to us, it is not usually through the great people of history. Those types of people have limited access anyway. We are much better off paying attention to the people around us. I was reminded of a sentence from the funeral service for George H. W. Bush this past week. One of the eulogists at the Cathedral said, “When you take the high road of humility in Washington, you won’t be met by heavy traffic.” And of course, people chuckled. Humility seldom is a characteristic of our public leaders, as it was for the late President. But I thought, that statement could also be made for any town in the world, not just Washington D.C. Humility is a difficult virtue to practice and acquire for anyone, anywhere. We, the people, tend to be prideful, and pride many times rips us apart, destroys relationships, leads to isolation and darkness, to wars and retribution, to bitterness and resentment. Many of us have seen the negative effects of it in our own families. Once a certain pride has taken root, it’s like the toughest weed in your lawn: you can only keep it at bay but you never get rid of it entirely. It has tremendous staying power.
And now Luke tells us that the Son of God came to us in humble fashion, without photo-ops, without Facebook posts, without a nursery with the newest and best equipment, without pretense. Apart from the Nativity story, the first sign of his coming leads us to a hermit in the wilderness who is calling for people to change and repent. Luke saw in this hermit the fulfillment of a prophesy that was 500 years old. “As it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah, ‘The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.’”
It is interesting, it is thought-provoking, it is profoundly unsettling but also comforting, that God time and again reveals himself to people in the wilderness, as is documented in a book called the Bible. We can interpret this wilderness in many different ways. Let me give you some ideas. It is the places in life where we feel vulnerable; it is the places in life where we may feel isolated at times; it is the places in life where we don’t have the answers, where solutions are hard to come by; it is the places in life where we confront our own failures, our own sinfulness; it is the places in life where we have to acknowledge that things are out of our control. I used to think that those are rare places in the world, rare stages in life, accompanied by extraordinary circumstances. The more I listen to people, the more I learn as a pastor, the more I meet people whose challenges are way beyond what I could ever solve, the more I know about myself, the more I am convinced that the wilderness is common territory for human beings. It is unsettling because you just know that those places in life aren’t easy and often quite painful, frustrating and disheartening. But it is also comforting because the wilderness is where God transforms people, where God reveals himself and empowers people.
John the Baptist is the one who invites us to become vulnerable, to take a look at the mountains and valleys in our life, to be honest and forthcoming about ourselves. He doesn’t send that invitation to humiliate us, but to prepare us for transformation, to heal us, to make us whole. That’s always the purpose of salvation: to become whole. And when Luke writes, at the end of today’s passage, “all flesh shall see the salvation of God,” he is not just referring to Jesus, he is referring to you and me. In our transformation as human beings, salvation can be seen and felt and sensed by people around us. I must say, I had a conversation with a family member last week that reminded me of the long way I still have to go, that reminded me of my own edges, my own pride, my susceptibility to be drawn into negative energy. It is sobering when that happens. But it is not necessarily bad, just a reality check.
Most wise people will remind us that vulnerability is not a sign of weakness, but of strength. Being vulnerable is essential for cultivating empathy in others. It is when we meet people who refuse to be vulnerable in any way that we sometimes need to remove ourselves. In the gospels, John is the man who will meet our vulnerabilities with understanding and the water of renewal; as rough as he appears, he meets us in our own wilderness to help us find salvation in Christ. And as brutally honest and unconventional as he is, he helps us light a second candle in our hearts, the candle of peace. It is a candle that we can take into the wilderness moments of our lives to remind us that God is there for us. His name is Emmanuel, “God with us.”
The fans of the great soccer club F.C. Liverpool in England, they have this anthem, “You’ll never walk alone.” It is a testimony to the power of emotions and the enormous sense of community in sports. When people walk into that stadium on Anfield Road they feel that they are part of something bigger that includes them, “you’ll never walk alone.” And they sing that. And it reverberates throughout the stadium. And a few people get goosebumps: “you’ll never walk alone.” Well, that’s the message God is sending us in the coming of his child, “You’ll never walk alone! I will always be with you. And I will send people into the wilderness moments of your life!”
Amen.