John is an amazing character, isn't he? Not what we would expect as we come up to Christmas. What if, riding atop the last float of the Macy'sThanksgiving Day parade, there was not a jolly old Saint Nick, but a wild-eyed John the Baptist dressed in a glorified burlap sack? Even the perpetually perky Katie Couric would wince as she offered parade commentary from her reviewing stand, not quite sure what to say.
But this is not midtown Manhattan and this is no Macy's extravaganza. It has been something of a parade though, as people trekked out to the desert to hear this strange man. He is an astonishing preacher, we have to grant. Not many would start out the way he did — he stood before the assembled crowd, stared at them with a look of scarcely disguised disgust, then bellowed, "You area bunch of snakes!" Wow. That should get a congregation's attention.
The crowd is equally amazing. After this phenomenal insult, they must know that it is downhill from here, but they stay. "Vipers ... the coming wrath ... repentance ... trees cut down and burned ... winnowing fork ...unquenchable fire" (Luke 3:7-17 cf). What was John trying to do? Scare the hell out of the people ... literally? Then there is the gospel writer's remarkable conclusion to this drama: "And with many other words John exhorted the people and preached the good news to them" (Luke 3:18). Goodnews? Right!
What do you think? Was John's preaching "good news"? I wonder. Actually, I do not wonder. I think it was and is good news, because John, in his unique way, was saying there is hope for us, that despite all the evidence to the contrary, we are not stuck with our worst selves. We can change. We can be different. We can be better ... better, perhaps, than we ever thought possible. And I, for one, think that is good news indeed.
Spend a few minutes looking carefully at John's message. The heart of it is repentance, that good $2 "churchy" word that means, not only being sorry for your sins, but being sorry enough to quit! The Greek behind the word "repentance" reflects a changing of the mind, a 180-degree shift. The world outside the church says very little about repentance because the world outside the church is not convinced that such a thing is really possible: "A leopard cannot change its spots," "You can't teach an old dog new tricks," and all that. At this time of year, we hear a great deal about Scrooge... always a metaphor for someone who is mean-spirited, miserly, and miserable. But the Scrooge of Dickens' A Christmas Carol repented and by the end of the story becomes a generous warm hearted benefactor. Why do we remember only the rotten in him? Is it because the world remains unconvinced of the possibility of change? Or perhaps it is that misery loves company. If no one else can change, neither should I be expected to change. John says that is wrong!
In that context, we begin to get a better understanding of his talk about "vipers" and fleeing "coming wrath." You see, standing on the edge of the wilderness, John is using wilderness talk. The picture he envisions is of those desert grass fires that are nature's way of removing old, dead growth to allow new grass to grow. When those flames sweep across the desert floor, indigenous creatures — including snakes — run for escape. Thus, it would not be unusual to come across a brood of creepy-crawlies where you might not expect them — like right beside the river where they would hope to be safe! John is not simply in the name-calling business here; he is calling a spade a spade. He knows that the people have traveled out to him and are ready for his baptism because they see it as a sort of fire insurance. They are escaping from God's refining fire, just as snakes escape the desert's fire, and John says that ought not happen. As desert fires clear out old growth to make room for the new, John wants the people ready to have the dross and dead wood removed from their lives. The word he uses for the process is repentance.
John is not content with someone saying, "Sorry." Don't just talk the talk, walk the walk. John says, "Produce fruit in keeping with repentance" (Luke 3:8). The phrase "in keeping with" [in Greek, axios] has as its root the image of a balance scale. One side needs to weigh the same as the other side. It has the idea of being "worth the same as" or "equivalent to" or "measuring up to." In other words, your talk might declare that you have cleaned up your act — repented — but your walk will show it.
John's next comments are as apt for today and tomorrow as they were for the people who stood there listening to him: "Do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father.' For I tell you that out of these stones God can raise up children for Abraham" (Luke 3:8). In other words, don't you dare say, "This does not apply to me; I am a church member ... have been all my life; I'm okay, John." Don't dare say, "I'm saved; I was born again on July 18, 1985, at a city-wide crusade; I'm ‘washed in the blood of the Lamb,' so John's words don't worry me." Don't dare say, "I read my Bible and pray every day; I'm at church every time the doors are open — John is not talking to me." Maybe, or maybe not. The truth is that more folks than we care to admit sow their wild oats for six days a week then on the seventh day come to church to pray for a crop failure. John's message is that your religion must make a difference in the way you live in the world and the way you treat people; if it does not, your religion is not worth the dead grass that is burned up in a prairie fire. God is interested in your fruits, not your roots!
For those who were serious about leading lives that would please God, what John had to say offered hope. His suggestions were not beyond the reach of anyone. Perhaps that is why he made such a profound impression on the crowds. Could John be the Messiah, the anointed one? The one who would lead the chosen people back to the greatness of King David's day? No. John says, "One more powerful than I will come, the thongs of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie" (Luke 3:16).
Ready or not, here he comes.
You better watch out
You better not cry
You better not pout
I'm tellin' you why ...
No, not Santa. One whose "winnowing fork is in his hand to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his barn, but he will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire" (Luke 3:17). At first blush, this does not sound like someone I would look forward to. But inthe context of what John has just told us — that change is possible, that you and I can be better than we are, and that reasonable measures taken can make us better — then the coming ... the Advent ... of this newcomer is good news indeed. Ready or not, here he comes. Are you ready?
To be honest, probably not. We would rather be the snakes in the desert who are content to run to the river for safe haven from the flames. Are there things in our lives that ought not to be? Are there people who have been neglected who need our love and attention? Has life become too hectic, too wrapped up in the pursuit of passing fancies? Probably. And that is precisely why we need the season of Advent ... not simply to let us know that there is a diminishing number of shopping days until Christmas, but for the expected use of this time for reflection, for introspection, for taking spiritual inventory, and, yes, even for change. Ready or not, here he comes. Are you ready?