The Man in the Camel Skin
a sermon based on John 1:29-42
By Dr. David Rogne
Sitting here in this cold, dark prison cell I have had a lot of time to
think. When you're locked up it makes you wonder if the direction your life has
taken is the right
one. I always thought that Jesus and I were on the same track, but as I
sit here alone
I have come to see more clearly how we have differed and that has given
me pause
as I evaluate my life and ministry. I'd like to share some of those differences
with you so that you can get a clearer picture of Jesus of Nazareth and the
importance of
his life for you.
The first thing that now occurs to me is how different our attitudes
toward life have
been. Some of that, I suppose, is a product of the things we were
exposed to while
growing up. My name is John Ben Zechariah. Some people call me John the
Baptizer,
or John the
Baptist. John Ben Zechariah means John, son of Zechariah. My father
was a priest who
lived in the hill country of
Judea,
in southern Palestine. One day,
when it was his
turn to offer the sacrifice in the temple at Jerusalem, he had a vision in which
he was told that he was going to have a son, and that that son would have a
special
place in God's plan: that son would be a prophet. He was told to call the son
John,
and raise him as a Nazirite; which means someone who is dedicated to God,
someone whose
life is to be marked by purity. My mother's name was Elizabeth; she
was a cousin of
Mary, who later became the mother of Jesus. I was born about three
months before
Jesus was born.
Growing up as I did in the hill country of
Judea, I often
made my way to the desert
area around the
Dead Sea.
There were situated there a number of small communities
dedicated to purity of life. My contacts with
these people became more and more
frequent, so that they came to have a
substantial effect on my thinking. They taught me that life in the towns and
cities was corrupt, so I learned to prefer the wilderness. They
taught that
good Jews must be scrupulous about keeping dietary laws, so I learned to eat the
food of the desert - locust and wild honey - and to avoid any compromise in
diet.
They taught that the soft life would make us ill-prepared to serve as God's
soldiers, so I gave up soft clothing and took to wearing a camel skin. I became
convinced
that God wanted us Jews to avoid contact with Gentiles, to follow an austere
lifestyle, to avoid anything that would corrupt us, and to focus on keeping the
letter
of God's law. I'm sure that a number of people who knew me thought of me as
a crazy
man.
Jesus, on the other hand, had a different set of experiences. He grew up
in a town,
and he accepted
the fact that most people couldn't just pull up stakes and move out to
the desert. He
lived as ordinary people lived, he dressed as they did, ate what they ate, drank
what they drank. In fact, his casual observance of the dietary laws made
some people call
him a glutton and a drunkard.
The town in which he grew up,
Nazareth, is in
the area called
Galilee, a kind of
commercial crossroads, subject to the
customs of all kinds of people. In fact, we call the area
Galilee of the
Gentiles—so it is a place where our kosher laws are often
compromised. Jesus was known to eat
without going through the ritual washing of hands we are supposed to observe. He
was often at dinner parties and social
gatherings. He associated with people that
our more devout citizens called sinners.
I felt that if you took our religion very seriously you should avoid all
those things.
Jesus enjoyed life too much for a person who was supposed to be
religious.
We also had different ways of dealing with people. When I was about
twenty-eight years old I felt that God was calling me to preach to my people. I
left the desert and began preaching along the
Jordan River. I
felt that people needed to be confronted with their sinfulness so they would
repent, but first I had to get their attention.
Would you like to hear how I did that? I'd see a group of
people and I would come up and challenge them; "You snakes! Who told you that
you could escape from God's
wrath that is about to come? Do the things
that will show you have turned from your
sins. And don't start saying among
yourselves, 'Abraham is our ancestor', as though
that were all that is necessary to be
on good terms with God. I tell you that God can take these rocks and make
descendants for Abraham!" That usually got their attention. I pointed out ways
in which they were breaking God's laws and I told them to repent because God's
kingdom was at hand. People came out to the river by the hundreds to hear my
message, to repent and ask what they could do to please
God. I told
them to be baptized - that is, to wash themselves in the Jordan River as a
sign
that they really wanted to be cleansed from their unrighteousness. Large
numbers of
people followed my advice.
Then, one day, Jesus showed up in the crowd and asked me to baptize him.
This was
before he embarked on his public ministry. I knew him, of course. He is
my second
cousin. His
mother, Mary, and my mother, Elizabeth, were pregnant about the same time, and
my family had told me that they expected something special from Jesus.
But I hadn't
seen him for years. As soon as I saw him, something inside me said, "This
is the one you
have been proclaiming; this is the one who is going to deliver Israel." I
was confused by
this new thought. If he were the deliverer, I should be baptized by
him.
I suggested that, but he responded, "Let it be done this way for now." (Matthew
4:13) I
consented, and as soon as he came up out of the water, there was some kind of
mystical change about him, as though he had just resolved a great problem. The
next thing he did was to go out and live in the desert for a while. I guess he
was getting
his thoughts
together and planning his strategy. About forty days later he returned to where
I was preaching and I caught a glimpse of him in the crowd.
I was anxious to see what he would do next.
Israel needed a
good house-cleaning, and if I had called people snakes to get their attention,
he would no doubt be even more confrontational.
But that isn't the way he went about it. Instead of judging people, he
affirmed them. Instead
of convicting them of their sins, he seemed to accept people with all
their weaknesses. Instead of emphasizing the law that was being broken, he
stressed the
love of God. Instead of keeping himself free from sinners, he included a
hated tax
collector and a terrorist among his close associates. He allowed a woman
of doubtful
reputation to have a place in his entourage. He said that Zaccheus, a
known collaborator with the Romans, had a place in God's love. I did not
understand his
methods.
Our messages differed too. My message emphasized judgment. I told people
that the
axe was about to fall, that even the tree of
Israel would be
pruned to the very roots.
"Every tree that does not bear good fruit", I said, "will be cut down
and thrown into the fire." (Matthew 3:10) Keeping God's law means everything, I
would say, and those who do not
keep it will suffer God's wrath. I was out to reform
sinners. How else could you do
that if you didn't scare people into action?
Jesus, on the other hand, stressed the gracious acceptance of sinners by
God. Instead
of reforming sinners, he was out to redeem them. Instead of pouring
judgment on
people's failures, he spoke about the availability of an abundant life.
He seemed to be
wooing people into the Kingdom rather than scaring them into it. He
preferred the
carrot to the stick, but I didn't have much confidence that his message
would change people. If he were the Messiah, I was looking for some dramatic
results on his part.
Not long after Jesus began his public ministry I was arrested because I
criticized Herod, the ruler of our province, for taking his brother's wife. I
have been sitting here,
day after day, waiting in this prison cell for word that
Jesus was getting on with the
business of being the Messiah. If he is God's special
person, you would think he
would begin to take action against everything that is
contrary to God's will. You'd
expect some evidence of God's power.
Some of my closest followers are allowed to come and visit me in this
prison cell.
They tell me what is going on out in the world. One day recently I became
so discouraged at Jesus' inactivity that I sent some of my followers to Jesus
with a
message: "Are you who we think you are or not? Are you going to show
yourself or
should we look for somebody else?" (Matthew 11:3)
Jesus was not about to be pressured to do
what we wanted him to do. Instead, he
spoke unapologetically to my friends and
said, "Go and tell John what you hear and
see; the blind receive their sight, the
lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised up and the
poor have good news preached to them." (Matthew 11:4-6)
So it becomes apparent that Jesus is not going to do things my way. Our
style, our
methods, our message differ from each other. Is he right? Was I wrong?
These are thoughts that have been running through my mind since my friends
returned with
Jesus' response.
Fortunately, God has helped me to resolve my doubts about Jesus and about
my own
calling. Sitting here, my mind took me back to an incident that happened shortly
after I baptized Jesus. Some authorities from the temple in Jerusalem came out
to
question me at the Jordan River. They wanted to check out the correctness of my
belief, and also to find out what kind of
aspirations I might have, if any. All kinds of
strange stories had built up about who
I was and what I was doing. By then I had a
number of loyal followers, and I suppose the
authorities were afraid I might lead
some sort of revolt.
So they came right out and asked me, "Are you the Messiah?" I answered,
"I am not
the Messiah."
"Are you Elijah, then?" they said, for our Scriptures state that Elijah
will return
ahead of the Messiah. I answered that I was not Elijah,
either, though I know that
Jesus did later refer to me as one who came in the spirit
and power of Elijah.
"Are you that other prophet?" they asked, referring to a statement made
by Moses
that one day a prophet would arise who would be like
Moses. "No," I said, "I am not
that prophet either."
"Well, then, who are you?" they insisted. For the first time my role
suddenly became
clear to me. I was not destined to be the leader of some
great movement; I was to serve as a proclaimer of someone else. So I answered
them with words from the prophet Isaiah. I said, "I am the voice of one who
shouts in the desert: 'Make straight
a path for the Lord to travel.'" (John
1:20-23) I was to be a herald, one who goes out ahead of a king to make the
province ready for his coming.
It's funny. I
hadn't thought about that incident until my friends returned with Jesus'
response. Now
the recollection of it gives me much comfort. My own words remind
me of my role. I
am not the savior of the world. I am simply a voice called to give
testimony to what God is doing in the world. I have to do it my way
because of who I
am. If my methods are imperfect, I am sorry for that. All I have wanted
to do is to
catch people's attention.
I do not know if I will ever get out of this cell. If I do not, that will
be all right. I
have done what I was called to do. I have been a voice
calling people to prepare, to
make a place for God in their lives. I may not always have
fully understood what
God was intending to do, but I have been faithful to the
best of my understanding.
I have also been a pointer - not pointing to myself but to the one whose
way I was
preparing. One day when I was preaching by the
Jordan River I
saw Jesus in the
crowd. I pointed
to him and said "There is the lamb of God." (John 1:36) Immediately, two of my
followers
left me and followed Jesus. That was a hard thing for me to accept, but it has
become clear to me that that is as it should be. He must increase, and I must
decrease.
There is a lesson here for all who have come to appreciate Jesus. We are
to be a voice, a testimony to those around us. We are to be a pointer to the one
who is
making a difference in our lives. I did it in my way; you do it in
yours. But however
it occurs to you to do it, do it.