“Double-checking on Life”
Sermon Preached by
The Rev. Dr. Paul Wilson
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Text: Isaiah 35:1-10
A first year university student named Katherine went home for Christmas this week. Next week is exam week but she had none to write. None of her friends in residence were heading north, and she was feeling independent. She decided to take the Ontario Northlander train, and since her parents were going to a retirement party that evening, she planned to take the bus to her village. It was bit of an adventure since she had always made the trip from Toronto by car. The train arrived up north on time, though it was snowing, and she had to wait for the bus. It being cold in the wind, she decided to wait in the coffee shop across the road where she ordered a double-latte mocha java and sat at a stool by the frosty window. There she could watch the traffic making its slow progress through the snow. She imagined the bus would be a big Greyhound, its side dirty with salt and slush, its motor harshly roaring, but inside it would be warm and cozy, with soft lighting and plush reclining seats where she could sip her coffee, watch the Christmas lights of the houses going by, and listen to carols on her iPhone. So when a small van pulled up outside, and then drove off, she thought nothing of it. She waited a while and finally asked the man next to her about the bus. He replied, “Bus? I don't think there are any buses,” but the waitress overheard and said, “I think it left ten minutes ago. It's just an old Dodge van.”
It is good to double-check to make sure what we are waiting for, whether there even is a bus and if it is a big Greyhound or a humble old Dodge van. Especially in this season of advent, waiting for Christmas, it is good to name what we await. Just what exactly are we waiting for? What, if anything, do you expect to arrive this Christmas? Double-checking is good.
Double-checking is what John the Baptist does. Our text reads: “When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, 'Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another? '” There are no preliminary greetings, no memories of how their mothers got together for a visit when they were pregnant, no, “How's your mom,” not even a, “You'll never guess where I am!” In actual fact John is in prison. He preached against King Herod's marriage to his own niece who was already married to his brother. John the Baptist is in trouble. Soon his head will be delivered on a platter to Herod. John's message is abrupt, urgent, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”
John asks because he is wondering if he is mistaken. He expected Jesus to be different. He is disappointed. He needs to double-check. John had clear ideas of who the Messiah would be. Months earlier, he preached from the middle of the river, “I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.” John had his own brand of fire, as one could hear when he preached to the religious authorities, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?” However scorching were John's words, the Messiah's would be filled with the Holy Spirit and fire. John expects the Messiah to come like Daniel prophesied , fire and brimstone will rain down upon the wicked, thousands shall fall, surrounding nations will be destroyed, judgement will come upon the nations, Israel will be liberated from Roman occupation, and the righteous will be purified. When Jesus had come to John out in the wilderness, John had been certain Jesus was the Messiah. John had been certain when he baptized him. Whatever John the Baptist expected of the Messiah, Jesus did not seem to live up to it. Had John been wrong? He needed to double-check.
It may be good that we double-check as well, “Jesus, are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” What kind of Christmas are you and I waiting for? There are some options. For example, if we were the ones who traveled north on the train and were waiting in the coffee shop, some of us would be waiting for the Greyhound Christmas. Probably most of us in moments want it. It is the big expensive one, the warm cozy one with reclining seats, the romantic one. It is the one with the familiar songs playing in the background because when we get right down to it, we like things to be familiar, the way they were. We want Bing Crosby to sing I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas, we do not want Eminem rapping it, or Lady Gaga flaunting it. We want the old familiar stories that tell of Scrooge becoming sorry for his cruelty, and Tiny Tim and his family all being fed, and Santa's helpers rewarding all the good children everywhere. Christmas is one of the best times of the year because with all of the beautiful lights and holidays, it is about merriment. Who doesn't want that? But if our Christmas is only that, if it is about all the glitz and glamour, we may be left feeling disappointed and lonely.
On the other hand, a lot of people might say there is no bus to Christmas. Their perspective is important. Like John the Baptist, they are disappointed by Jesus, disappointed by a God who does not live up to their expectations. If God is a God of peace they say, as the angels declare at Christ's birth, why is there no peace? It is almost ten years since the war in Afghanistan began, who would have thought that nearly ten years later war would still be raging? Well, Russia knew. Reflective people would say that God did not start the war, people did, but if you have someone in your family killed or injured in the war, and there is an empty chair at your Christmas dinner table, it can be natural to blame God. What about teenagers, one runs away from an abusive father in Winnipeg, another flees from an alcoholic mother in Montreal, and both teens fall into drug abuse and degradation in Toronto? They might say there is no bus for them. Nothing is headed toward Christmas. If anyone here is disappointed by life, you might have your own reasons to ask Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” It is such a good question. It names what is real.
This is how Jesus answered that question from John the Baptist's messengers, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.” Jesus is the one the world has been waiting for. If we were Jesus we might be tempted to prove our identity and demonstrates power by making the sun go dark, or causing waves to come crashing inland as far as Jerusalem. But no, Jesus does not go for the glitz and glamour. He offers simple words that announce the beginning of a new age, the beginning of a new creation. It is the beginning. It is starting. It has already begun. He simply says, “Were you there when I made the blind see?” He does not heal all the blind people in his world, but this is the beginning of the end. He simply says, “Have you noticed that the lame person now walks and the deaf person now hears?” He does not end all lameness or poor hearing, but this is the beginning of a new creation. He raised a girl from the dead, he has that power. This is not the end of all death, but that will come. He does not end all skin cancer. He just says, “Did you meet the former lepers and see their restored skin?” To the poor he gives good news and true hope. Jesus is God's reign of mercy. The Child who will be born is the beginning of the end of suffering, the beginning of a new creation that will overtake the old, and all things will be made new in him.
I wonder how did John in his dank prison cell received Jesus' answer to his question? He must have been deeply reassured. He would have recognized in Jesus' response the words of Isaiah we read this morning, and he would have heard in Jesus' words God speaking directly to God's people, God speaking directly to him, “Say to those who are of a fearful heart, 'be strong. Do not fear! Here is your God.... He will come and save you. Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless speak for joy.” The recollection of these words washed over John in his prison cell with unspeakable comfort and reassurance. He may even have glimpsed what we know so plainly in the resurrection, that even death itself cannot stop the peace and joy God intends for all. In the end, God wins. That is who is born in this time, In The End God Wins, but we call him Christ.
A friend last summer went up to his cottage and had to take a boat five miles up the coast in a thunderstorm, using a flashlight to find his way and steer clear of the points and rocks, and when he was unloading the kids and the gear, he realized he had forgotten the dog back at the marina. So he made his way all the way back, and when he got there at the end of the dock, the thunder still sounding and the rain coming down, the dog was still waiting. In this season of waiting for Christmas, I wonder if we can be as faithful in waiting for Christ, sure that the Master most certainly comes.
Our own testimony to Christ need not be splashy or glitzy, just deeds and words that point to him. Two office workers have not spoken in months and at the office Christmas party one comes to the other to ask forgiveness. A mother and daughter reconcile through the daughter's long period of illness. A tough crowd in a Louisiana prison, the most violent of American prisons, starts a hospice behind bars where they care for prisoners dying of AIDS or old age. Such are the marks of Christ. He is the One upon whom we wait. He is the beginning of a new age when all things shall become new.
Tim Huff works with street kids in downtown Toronto for a charity called Light Patrol. He writes of one Christmas season taking some plates of church baking down to youths living under the Spadina on-ramp. “Homemade treats,” he called out. As several youths came over and sat down, one of them named Sarah took a sparking shortbread, “My Mom used to make these. It is the only thing I can think of that I miss.” The youths talked nostalgically about Christmases back home, and one of the guys popped out with, “the baby Jesus probably got tired of everyone hugging him.”
Something about that comment made Sarah, a hardened loner, more open in that moment, “I've never been hugged.”
Everyone fell silent. Finally a young woman said, “Never, not by anyone?”
“No! Never!”
A long silence ensued, and then slowly one by one, they rose. Tim writes, “Then and there, teenagers tagged daily as misfits, delinquents, beggars and losers responded like angels sent directly from heaven, commissioned solely for Sarah. Each one stepped towards Sarah, and, one at a time, without saying a single word, took her into their arms. And she melted there.” (Huff, Bent Hope: a Street Journal, 120-22). It was a small act of compassion on a cold night. By such acts Christ's identity is seen and heard. He is the One who makes all things new. His deeds show who he is. He comes not in flashy spotlights with big bands at City Hall, just quietly, under off-ramps, in hospital wards, in apartment buildings, on the subway, in back alleys, in your homes. In small and big acts that we are invited to do, Jesus works his miracles. He is coming. Look for him. He may be found amongst all of the glamour and glitz, but he most surely will be found in your humble and loving service to your neighbour, the one in need.