Advent 2C 2018
St. Matthew’s Eugene
First, I want to thank Patti for inviting me back. And
thanks to you all, for the warm welcome. For those who are new, hello! I’m
Carter Hawley. I currently work for Bishop Michael as canon for administration and
archdeacon, and previously served here as deacon. It is indeed good to see you.
And second, thanks for inviting me to preach during Advent. Forget rain drops
on roses and snowflakes and kittens. Advent
contains most of my favorite things. Prophets. Hymns I love, and the word “harbinger”.
First you’ve got the general themes of advent. Preparing,
waiting, watching. And while I’m good at preparing, waiting isn’t one of my
strengths. But looking around in our culture, I’d suggest few of us are good at
it anymore. Waiting is something that’s not only devalued in our society, it’s
almost a sign of weakness. We’re living in times of immediate gratification, one-click
ordering and one day shipping. To wait for something means you are wasting your
time and don’t have sufficient resources to speed everything up around you. I
love Amazon delivery. One click, and a bag of dog food is delivered to my
downtown apartment. Easier than schlepping it on a bike!
And to be clear, waiting isn’t necessarily fun; it always
indicates that someone else is in control of something important to you. Your
order, your doctor’s appearance, the water to boil, traffic to let up. We don’t like wasting our time, and we don’t like being dependent upon
someone else’s timeline and priorities.
It indicates that we are in fact, not in control. But instead of being
frustrated, maybe we can look at it as a pause – albeit of someone else’s
choosing. But when you’re waiting, you aren’t doing, running, or solving
anything. Times of waiting can provide needed space, time to hear yourself
think.
Today we hear all about John the Baptist. Not only is the
Gospel focused on John, but in the place of a regular Psalm, we hear another
passage from Luke, known as the song of Zechariah. Zechariah was the father of
John the Baptist, and this canticle, or song is all about John the Baptist. An
angel came to Zechariah, explaining that his old barren wife Elizabeth would
bear a son and they should name the child John. When he questioned the
likelihood of this unbelievable birth, he was rendered unable to speak until the
child was born and named. When his son
was born, he wrote a note that the child’s name would be John, and he could
again speak. What he spoke was this song, the Song of Zechariah. “You my child will be called the prophet of
the most high” Tender words from an old unexpected father.
So back to the Gospel. It begins with the lengthy run down
of places and rulers and on first blush, seems not relevant. “In the fifteenth
year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius. . . “ etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Why do we care who was in charge? There are a
couple of reasons to care. The first is that this is how stories were told, to
put the story in context of time (the 15th year) and space (governor
of Judea). They didn’t have clocks and
calendars like we know them, so this was a way to mark a moment.
But there’s another interesting thing this section does. It
gives us a very clear and early picture of what Jesus cares about, where he
goes, and who he serves. We’re at a time
where the Roman empire has brutally conquered this region of the world. They
were not known to be benevolent or kind in any manner. The people were
oppressed and tired. They’re waiting for their savior to ride in on a white
horse and kick those Romans to the curb.
The seat of power of the Roman empire is, in fact, Rome. So if there’s
going to be a change in this world, it’s going to take place in Rome, right? And that’s how this place setting phrase begins.
In the 15th year of the rule of Emperor Tiberius – Rome. But then it
continues. In Judea – but at least it’s a Roman in Judea. But wait.
While all of these names are institutions of power, they’re getting
further and further away from Rome and the Romans. By the end, we’re not even
on the map. We’re in the wilderness, coming to a nobody. And this is who’s
going to prepare the way? To usher in a new world? Yes! Precisely. And the same happens when Jesus arrives, in
the backwater village of Bethlehem. And
it continues through Jesus’ ministry. He
loves all. He dines with tax
collectors and sinners. He heals the unclean. He seeks and serves the lost, the
least and the last. And he asks us to,
too. And John is sent to usher in this
new world.
So what are to make of John the Baptist, with his animal
skin clothes, insect diet, and wild hair?
What does it mean to be a prophet after all? Culturally, there are two things I think of
when I hear prophet, both of which are not entirely accurate, or at least don’t
do John the Baptist justice. The first notion is that a prophet can see in the
future. Truth be told, they cannot. But
what a prophet does do is to envision a world in the future that’s right and
true. Using language from Presiding Bishop Michael Curry, prophets hold out for
us God’s dream. That can be inspiring and promising, and comforting. There is another way.
The challenge with prophets is while some inspire and make
real this vision of the future, other prophets are called to identify and name
where we are now. Again, using Bishop Curry’s language, our human nightmare.
Here’s where we are (hand down low), and here’s where we can be.
That’s where the second image problem comes for
prophets. Once a prophet has identified
God’s dream, and our human nightmare, a prophet identifies the breach – the gap
between where we are, and where we might be. This is where we get the image of
the bible-waving street corner prophet. You’re all doomed. Repent. This kind of prophet, the John the Baptist
kind of prophet makes us really uncomfortable. First, maybe their vision of the
future is not my vision. And second, who do they think they are telling me I’m
doomed?
To be clear, we need all kinds of prophets. Outlining the
vision of where things can be, of God’s dream is critical and it gives
hope. And calling out the bad is also
important, especially when society grows complacent. Someone needs to call out
the wrong. The farther we are from God’s dream, the more we need the
truth-telling prophets. It’s uncomfortable. John’s uncomfortable. And it’s
necessary.
John the prophet knows what this new world is to be like. He
sees God’s dream for us. And John also
sees the human nightmare that people were living in, a nightmare of their own
making. He called the out to turn away from those ways, and head towards the dream.
We are all called to be prophets. Not the scary condemning or freaky fortune
teller kinds. I would challenge you this next year to give some thought to
where you are called to be a prophet. Where do you see a human nightmare? Or of
all of the nightmares you see, where are you most drawn?
And once you land on your nightmare, how are you called to
be a prophet? To be the dream-maker, inspiring people to see and live into God’s
dream for them? To provide hope and vision? Or are you called, like John, to be
a truth-teller, to call out this human nightmare we are causing. Again, both
are needed. And because of that, maybe
we need to find someone who’s the other kind of prophet, to go out in pairs. To hold out God’s dream, and to call out the
human nightmare.
Whichever way you do it, be a prophet. As Zachariah tells
you, “You, my child, shall be called a prophet of the most high”.
Amen.
