Anticipating Joy
a sermon based on John 1:6-8, 19-28
by Rev. Thomas Hall

The third Sunday of Advent and we’re more than halfway through our wait for Christmas to arrive. Theologically speaking, we’re at the "joyfully waiting for the advent of our Lord" stage.

Standing on the furthest shore of the Jordan, Isaiah says that the Coming One will give those who mourn garlands of flowers, the oil of gladness, and the mantle of praise. Standing closer to our side of the Jordan, Paul hands a "things to do today" list to his beloved congregation that begins with pantote chariete, "rejoice always." He writes those words in the 2nd person singular so that it comes out in English with a sort of southern drawl: "You all, rejoice! Always!"

But probably the biggest change toward joyful anticipation comes from John the Baptist. Remember him last week? All that exotic camel hair and locusts and wild honey and the in-your-face preaching about repenting? But today, just look at him! He’s being interviewed! And he, too, gives a joyful announcement:

Among you stands one whom you do not know,

The one who is coming after me and I am

Unworthy to even untie the thong of his sandals.

But amidst all this joy, beware! Something is not quite right. Keep your eye on the delegation of religious officials who show up from Jerusalem. They are not there on a package tour of the Holy Land; they have come on an official mission: to interrogate John. The very first words from their mouths clue us as to what they’re up to: "Who are you?" This is no small how’s-the-weather? Talk. No pictures of grandchildren passed around. Just a blunt, "Who are you?"

John quickly moves from talk show candidate to a defendant on trial. The entourage from Jerusalem have come as judge, jury, and lynch mob to arrest John or at the least, to put John’s ministry to the test. John is called to stand trial as the only witness for his defense. The People of Jerusalem versus John the Baptist. Listen to the court record:

prosecution: Who are You? Are you the Messiah?

defendant: I am not the messiah.

prosecution: What, then, are you Elijah?

defendant: I am not.

prosecution: Are you the Prophet?

defendant: No.

prosecution: Who are you then? Tell us about yourself. [Answer the Court.]

defendant: I can speak about myself only by speaking of someone else. I cry in the wilderness, announcing the coming of another.

prosecution: This is confusing. Why, then, are you baptizing?

defendant: I baptize with water, but there is one standing in this court at this very moment, and you do not know him. I am not worthy to untie his sandals.

Like art curators, they came out to John dragging with them age-worn, tattered portraits of what they thought Messiah would be like. They had tried to capture God on canvas-based on the ancient writings of the prophets. They knew what color God’s Anointed One was supposed to be-Purple-the color of royalty. They knew what he was supposed to look like-sitting atop a white horse with a patina of light arching above and around his head. They knew every prophecy about Christ-had most likely memorized it. They had prayed for the Coming One. Yet the portrait that John unveiled out there in the desert was so strange, so different and intruding, obtruding, disrupting, strange, and yet joy-erupting, that the Jerusalem delegation had to go out and compare portraits-to see for sure if John perhaps measured up to their versions of messiah.

One of my most joyous, but sad experiences was when I traveled Europe earlier in my life. I had spent almost six years there, had viewed hundreds of famous paintings just because the tours fit my budget. But it wasn’t until I came back to the States and took a course in art history that I began to understand some of the context for these masterpieces. Knowing the geography, something of the political climate, knowing something of the artist suddenly made the portraits significant and filled with meaning. The art history course showed me how much I had missed. I witnessed the masterpieces, but because I didn’t know what to look for, I didn’t see a thing that brought meaning.

What portrait do you have of God? Albert Schweitzer once wrote that

Jesus comes to us as One unknown, without a name, as of old, by the lake-side, he came to those men who knew him not. He speaks to us the same word: "Follow me!" and sets us to the tasks which He has for us. To those who obey, he reveals himself in the toils, the conflicts, the sufferings, through which they shall pass in his fellowship, and they shall learn in their own experience Who He Is.

He comes to us as One Unknown. Robert Webber tells of a pilgrimage that he took in his search for God. He starts out in a denomination that has more answers than questions. He says that in his training to be a seminary professor, he was taught to defend the faith. To "prove" God; much of his energy centered around knowing all the facts about God, leaving little room for Mystery. He happened into an Episcopal Church one Christmas Eve, entering by himself. He watched as the altar boys prepared the candles, and as the banners and incense were carried down the aisles. He suddenly realized that here he had discovered something that bypassed all of his training; here was no defense for the faith, but rather a celebration of the Mystery of God in Christ.

Perhaps some of us here have been dragging around with us some age-worn portrait of the God we once knew at our baptism. That we once knew in a deeply moving experience. That we once knew in Sunday School. The paint has long dried and peeled. The colors have faded. Maybe it is time to leave behind the God we once knew in the past for the God that comes to us now in Jesus Christ.

Today’s gospel lesson from John is both joyous anticipation and solemn warning. The announcement: rejoice, and again I say rejoice! Always! For your God is coming to you and God will touch your life and make you whole. But beware! Caution! For the advent of God among us in the baby of Bethlehem can be so delicate, so unexpected, so strange, and ordinary, that we might miss it altogether. Amen.