Advent 3 C : Beyond Scolding
Dear Partner in Preaching,
To scold or not to scold, that is the question.
At least that often seems to be the question many preachers ask themselves in Advent. Facing a Christmas celebration that is shaped at least as much by a consumption-driven culture as it is the nativity story, noting the painful disparity present in our communities between the “haves” and “have-nots,” and given just 10-15 minutes on Sunday morning to counter a 24/7barrage of ads that promote self-indulgence over sacrifice, we preachers feel a perhaps understandable tug toward not simply calling our people to resistance but also scolding those we deem have succumbed to the siren song of the culture. And in this week’s passage, John seems to urge us on.
Or does he.
Well, there is little doubt that John is clear in his admonition: “Bear fruits worthy of repentance.” Moreover, he backs it up with a little eschatological threat: “Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.” Certainly, here is warrant for calling our folks to account for their holiday indulgences and urge them to put“the Christ back in Christmas,” don’t you think?
Hmm. I’m not so sure. Perhaps before patting ourselves on the back for being “prophetic,” I’d ask just how many of us who mimic the central ethical thrust of John’s sermon will also dare adopt his opening line:“You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?” That would at least be more honest. I mean, if we’re going to suggest that our folks are failing to live their Christian faith this Christmas season, maybe we should just come out and say it.
But here’s the thing: John, I believe, is doing more than prophetically scolding, let alone threatening, his people, something that becomes more clear as he follows up his eschatological warning with fairly pragmatic instruction. He tells the crowds, who themselves are likely pretty poor, that if they have more than one coat, they should share it with someone who has none. He tells the tax-collectors working for Rome not to take more than is fair. And he tells mercenary soldiers not to threaten or extort others and to be satisfied with their wages.
What I find extraordinary about this is how mundane, if not downright obvious, John’s admonition proves. I mean, this is not rocket-science; indeed, it is the logic of the classroom and playground most of us first heard in kindergarten: share, be fair, don’t bully. But if somewhat obvious, it is at least also within their reach. John does not tell the crowds to join him out in the wilderness, he does not ask the tax-collectors to abandon or betray Rome, and he does not urge soldiers to a life of pacifism.Instead, he points them to the very places in which they already live and work, love and laugh, struggle and strive, and suggests that these places are precisely where God calls them to be, where God is at work in them and through them for the sake of the world.
Perhaps this is the element of John’s preaching we’re called to model, pointing out all the places our people have a chance to live their faith here and now, amid a culture that without a doubt favors indulgence over compassion and self-expression over sacrifice, but that nevertheless provides countless opportunities to witness to God’s commitment to meet us where we are, accept us as we are, and make good use of us to care for those around us.
Or, better, perhaps we might offer examples from the lives of our people of where we see God at work. In the fidelity of a parent or spouse, in the attentiveness of a friend, in the hard work of an employee, in the honesty of an employer, in the steadfastness of a volunteer, in the generosity of your congregation’s outreach ministry, in the compassion of those who are visiting the sick or homebound. In short, you might point to the many and varied and manifold attempts your people are making to live their faith daily and pronounce those efforts blessed. This is neither to glorify your congregation nor gloss over the disparities that afflict our communities. We are imperfect people who live in, suffer from, and too often succumb to, systems of inequality. And yet God is present. God is there. God is coming to us, amid our imperfections and failings, to call us to more, promising to meet us in need of our neighbor, to bless our efforts to reflect God’s love, and to claim us as God’s own even when we fall distressingly short.
Boring, mundane, too soft? Maybe. But also, I think, faithful to the promise that because God has promised to redeem all, we are free to nurture and love those around us. Because Christ has saved the world, we can devote ourselves to care for our little corner of it. And because one who is coming who will judge with righteousness, we do not need to judge others, but rather proclaim the mercy we ourselves have experienced. And, perhaps in this way, and with many other exhortations and examples, we, like John, will proclaim the good news.
My thanks, Dear Partner, for your hard work, for your faithfulness, and your commitment to your calling. You, too, are a beloved child of God, freed to stand with John and point to the coming Christ, confident that God will complete the good work already begun in you. Blessings on your proclamation.
Yours in Christ,
David
Post image: “The Preaching of John the Baptist,” Lucas Cranach the Younger, 1549.
Thank you, David, for the wonderful reminder that, “the very places in which(we)already live and work, love and laugh, struggle and strive…are precisely where God calls(us) to be..”.
I found this extremely encouraging.
And you’re so right about John’s admonition not being rocket-science – “share, be fair, don’t bully.” I’d never thought of it this way before.
Thanks very much.
I’ve been trying to put this reading in the context of the other lessons, and the idea of “rejoicing.” John is in the wilderness, a homeless preacher. Zephaniah and Isaiah have just given Judah and Jerusalem the worst news ever, and Paul writes from prison to his friends at Philippi. Rejoice? Not on the surface, until we stop looking at wealth, power, dominance, and so forth as sources of happiness, which is what John preaches. Seek joy that lasts longer than the wrapping on the package, and surprises everyone with light in the darkest places. John’s subversive message for us during Advent is to turn again toward the source of love that became incarnate as one of us, which means we can stop the futile search for love’s substitutes in the chaos and clamor of the shopping mall worship experiences. Thank you for your words of inspiration that led me to this. Like a lot of sermons, it may not be where you intended, but God does like to keep a bit of mystery to throw into the mix.
David -Happy New Year and all good prayers to you and your family.
Where are you? We don’t appreciate something until we don’t have it anymore!
If you have decided not to make your postings a priority I will remain appreciative for the sharing you have done.
Chaplain Linda Weidenbach
Your reflections are a help to me this year. I know they are from three years ago, but I am grateful for your perspective and insights. Thank you for the way you invite and offer, care for and encourage.
And thank you for leaving the archive up and available.
Peace to you.