Wandering Through Advent, Part 2

Advent 2C; Baruch 5:1-9; Luke 3:1-6; St. Paul’s, 12/6/2015

Jim Melnyk: “Wandering Through Advent, Part 2”

The word of God comes to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.  God’s word comes to John – whom we call The Baptist – God’s word comes to John at a very specific time in the life of the world: “In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas” (Luke 3:1).  I think it was February 26 at about 10:15 in the morning.  It was partly cloudy and mild for February… just kidding.

The word of God comes to John – the word of God comes to John in a specific place at a specific time.  Perhaps that’s part of what’s behind Luke’s detailed account – a desire to set the incarnation in time.  Theologian and priest Barbara Cawthorne Crafton suggests that there might be something more behind Luke’s introduction.  The word of God comes to John – not to the big boys in palaces or in temples [or to the top dogs at the head of Board Room tables] – but rather the word of God comes to an everyday person whom the world does not equate with status or authority (The Geranium Farm, 12/4/2015). 

John came proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins – for all of us – for all who find themselves in broken places – for all who long for God’s peace to find a home in our world.  Channeling the words of ancient prophets of faith – Isaiah in this instance – John announces the advent of God’s salvation for the world.   And whereas Isaiah spoke of a promise that those held long in Babylonian exile would soon return home to Jerusalem, John begins to prepare the way for the coming of Jesus, who will lead humanity out of our personal and corporate captivity to sin – out of the brokenness and loss of our personal exiles, whatever and however they may look.

Once again our Advent lessons, set in difficult times and places, offer the anticipation of a great hope – the hope that in the midst of our exile – in the midst of our brokenness – whatever that might look like – in the midst of the uncertainties of life – God will once again come among us and once again claim us as God’s own beloved.

Our first lesson, attributed to Jeremiah’s scribe Baruch, also speaks of consolation.  Set during the time of the Babylonian exile, it was probably written centuries later when Jerusalem was occupied by the armies of Antiochus Epiphanes, who was descended from one of the generals of Alexander the Great.  The Jerusalem temple, rebuilt after the Babylonian exile, has been desecrated and the people once again in exile – this time exiled in their own land.  Yet Baruch speaks a word of peace – speaks a word of promise and hope: “Take off the garment of your sorrow and affliction, O Jerusalem, and put on forever the beauty of the glory from God” (5:1). 

But Baruch’s promise also includes a charge to God’s people: “Put on the robe of the righteousness that comes from God….” (5:2a), and God will gather you together and “will lead Israel with joy” (5:9a).  Even the weight of occupying armies cannot quench the power and the love of God for God’s people.  As crooked and rough as the pathway before us may lie, God can and will always prevail.

As we heard earlier, John’s proclamation recalls Isaiah’s words spoken long ago to a people living in exile under Babylonian rule.  Their holy city, Jerusalem, is in shambles.  The temple has been torn down.  The Davidic line of kingship has seemingly ended.  And yet – and yet – the prophet proclaims a highway in the desert for God’s people – a way through the wilderness that we are challenged to make straight – a highway built by God with and for God’s people – and the promise of the peace that comes when we turn our hearts to God.

We hear John’s call to prepare a place in the wilderness make God’s path straight, and that call sounds paradoxical in the light of our use of the labyrinth as our Advent metaphor.  How does one make straight a path that is intentionally curved?  We think of the tight, one hundred eighty degree turns that we come upon so often in the labyrinth and “make his paths straight” seems counterintuitive.  But the call to repentance is a call to turn around – a call to turn back toward God – and the tight turns of the labyrinth stand as reminders of John’s message to us across the ages. 

The Rev. Lorraine Ljunggren, Rector of St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Raleigh reminds us that “there is a cost to changing directions – repentance in its many forms calls us to do some serious spiritual work.  But, exercising our spiritual muscles strengthens us for the journey of faith as well as the journey of life.  It takes strong spirits to stand up to, and [stand] in the midst of, the pain and suffering of a broken world – [especially when repentance calls us – and calls others – into a place of change].  It takes strong spirits to stand up to, and [stand] in the midst of, the pain and suffering in our own lives.”  “But,” she asks us, “isn’t that what God needs [each of] us to do so, so very much? And, isn’t that what God’s people sitting next to us, or living with or next to us, or living half a world away, need us so very much to do?”

We’re beginning our second week of Advent, and so looking at our journey to the center of the labyrinth we now find ourselves in the quadrant of the circle furthest away from our entry point.  The Baptist comes on the scene reminding us that all too often we drift far from one another and far from the love of God – and when we look at all the violence in the world – including the violence in our own nation – we understand that John is making a valid point.  How easy it is for us to drift away from the center – how easy it is for us to drift away from our fellow human beings and from God.  How easy it is to offer prayers of condolence for the brokenness of this world without ever taking action to help bring about change.   

But like the labyrinth that persistently draws us toward its center, God constantly calls us back into relationship with one another and with God.  And like the peacefulness we can experience as we center ourselves in the midst of walking the labyrinth, God constantly reminds us throughout Advent that we will always have a home in God.  Rarely as we walk the labyrinth is the center or the end point directly in front of us, but the center place of rest and of meeting God is always there.

“Once [a local Rabbi] surprised a group of learned men by asking, ‘where is the dwelling place of God?’

‘What a thing to ask!’ they laughed at him. ‘Is not the whole world full of God's glory?’

 But the [Rabbi] said, ‘God dwells wherever people let him in’” (Martin Buber, quoted in Synthesis Today, 12/3/2015).

As we walk through the labyrinth – as we walk through the season of Advent – as we walk through our lives – we are called to remember that God in Christ – the one we call “Emmanuel” – the one we call God with us – we are called to remember this Advent and always that this God walks with us.