Prepare the Way of the Lord! 2 Advent December 9, 2012 On one of the last days of November I saw him at the Mall. I heard him before I saw him, actually. Ho, ho, ho! Then I spotted the rotund belly, the red suit, the white beard. I heard some grandparents say to their little grandson Look! It s Santa! Say hello to Santa! The poor kid looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Ah, the world s gift to us in the weeks before Christmas! How different is our Scripture s gift to us in Advent. We don t get Santa; we get John the Baptist. No red suit for him; he sports camel s hair, and he eats locusts. Santa hangs out at the Mall. John hangs out in the wilderness. Santa is jolly and thrills most kids unless, of course, he is that grumpy Santa we ve been reading about who got sacked for being mean and surly to his little visitors- and if the truth be known, he is also pretty irresistible to grown ups as well. Santa is easy to love. John? Well, it would be a real stretch to suggest that John was in any way easy to love. He was a prophet the last of the Old Testament prophets, and the first of the New and prophets were rarely warm and cozy fellows. They told people things they didn t want to hear, such as the need to repent, to follow more closely the ways of the Lord, to prepare for days of hardship, for judgment and reprisals. They carried messages of hope as
well, but still they were not very popular. For their troubles they were often ignored at best, beaten up or thrown down wells at worst. John s message was pretty clear: a new age was coming, and people had better repent, turn their lives around, and be prepared for the One who was to come, who was to assure their salvation: a message that might cause some discomfort and anxiety, but a message that was also full of hope and vision. The Messiah is on his way! God does choose such unlikely characters to proclaim his Word! In the great scheme of things John was a pretty insignificant guy. At the start of our gospel reading today Luke mentions the authorities of the time: Emperor Tiberius, Pontius Pilate, Herod, Philip, Lysanius -rulers all - and the high priests Annas and Caiaphas. These were powerful men. And yet who receives the word of God? Not these rulers. Not these high priests. None of them, but instead an obscure and bizarre prophet from the wilderness, a nobody, really. It is he who shouts out to the crowds to prepare the way of the Lord! Repent, he warns. And it is he who echoes Isaiah s prophecy that the valleys shall be filled, mountains shall be made low, the crooked shall be made straight, the rough ways made smooth. And most important, all flesh shall see the salvation of God all people, not just the rich and powerful, not just the Jews. A savior is coming who will be for everyone, everywhere. Prepare, John proclaims to all who will listen, prepare for an age where justice will prevail, and the dreams of the downtrodden can be fulfilled. Prepare for the coming of the Christ. Make yourselves ready to receive him, and open your hearts to the good news!
I hope that is what we are all trying to do this Advent season: making ourselves ready to receive the Christ, preparing ourselves for the power and might and love of God s breaking into creation to be with us. Emmanuel, we call Jesus, meaning God with us. Just imagine; God coming to dwell with us, right here. What a crazy thought. Are we prepared? Think of how you get your homes ready for the arrival of guests. I don t know about you, but I look around with eagle eyes to make sure the place is pristine and that everything is in order. It is then that I notice with horror all the things that I have become so used to that I never even see them anymore: the crack in the wall under the dining room window. The water stain on the ceiling that has been there for three years. The initials, MRD, scratched into the bedstead by our son, Michael, some 35 years ago. The rather frayed towels. The broken window shade in the guest room. The dust under the beds. Maybe we need that same kind of eagle eye as we prepare our hearts for the coming of the Lord. Maybe we need to get out the brooms and make a clean sweep of things, smooth the rough ways, open the windows and let in some fresh air. Advent serves to sharpen our senses, I think, to put us on alert. Behold, our salvation is coming. Behold, the Christ is coming. Behold, he is coming to knock on the door of our hearts. Behold, the manger bed is waiting.
But there remains a question for me: Does not Advent serve also as a reminder to us that this is what we need to be about all the time watching, preparing for Jesus, waiting always for his knock on the door? The problem is this, I suppose: it is pretty easy to see Jesus in the face of a little baby asleep in his young mother s arms. It is easy to feel his presence among us as we pray and sing together in the beauty of holiness. It is no real stretch usually!- for us to see him in the people we love and hold dear. The trouble comes when we look beyond our own circles of safety and security, to the rest of the world out there. But it is so often just there, in the unfamiliar, in the uncomfortable, in the unappealing and unsettling that Jesus chooses to surprise us. There is a story told about the first President Bush, George Herbert Walker Bush. During his presidency he often crossed the street from the White House to St. John s Episcopal Church, just off Lafayette Square, to attend the eight a.m. communion service, always accompanied, of course, by a fleet of Secret Service men. One can only imagine their horror when one morning as the President was approaching the church there leapt from the bushes a homeless man who approached Bush and asked him, will you pray for me this morning? The Secret Service sprang into action, expecting the very worst, but the President moved past them to the man. No, he said gently. Why don t you come inside with us and pray for yourself?
And to everyone s astonishment that is exactly what that homeless man Mr. Brown by name, did. He walked into the well heeled and tony church the church of Presidents, it is called and made himself at home. It is said that many in the congregation would not pass the peace with him he smelled bad nor were they inclined to receive communion after his lips had touched the cup. Mr. Brown, however, was neither discouraged nor deterred; he became a member of the congregation, where he remained for ten years until his death. At his funeral, the rector spoke of how Mr. Brown s presence among them had taught him and his congregation a great deal about the accepting and transforming love of Jesus Christ. The crazy, surprising and astonishing power of the Lord! Not in a sweet, clean baby boy with a halo over his head was Jesus found by the members of St. John s Episcopal Church in Lafayette Square, but rather in a dirty, smelly homeless fellow who had the courage some would say the chutzpah to approach that most patrician of presidents, George Herbert Walker Bush, and ask for a prayer. Surprise, surprise. Advent tells us to be alert to God s surprises, to keep our eyes and ears open. Far too often we forget to do that. In the little book many of us are reading for Advent Henri Nouen writes about the importance of being open to God s presence in the little things like a baby s smile or the happy play of children. I thought that was a bit corny, to tell you the truth, when I read it, but then I remembered a day about two weeks ago when I was making yet another run to Hannaford s. I was behind
schedule. I had left my list at home. I was tired and distracted and just wanted to get the shopping out of the way so that I could move on to other things. Plus, it was snowing and I was not in the mood for snow. And then I missed the green light. Anyone who is familiar with the lights at the corner by Holy Cross School knows that the red light last forever. I fumed. And then I saw the little kids at recess in the schoolyard. They were maybe six or seven years old and they were shrieking with abandon at the snowfall, running around in frenzied circles, coats and scarves flying, just pure, pure joy that kind of joy we grownups seem to have forgotten to feel when the first snowflakes fall. Surprise, surprise! I barely noticed when the light turned green. Advent asks us to ponder many things. The crusty prophet John tel us to examine our lives to make room for the Christ who is to come. We are called into Isaiah s vision of straight paths and leveled mountains, of rough places made smooth. We are called to think about how we can help to make those rough places smooth. We are told that our salvation is coming. We are called to notice the little things, the grace notes that enrich our days. We are called to be open to the crazy, abundant, and surprising power of God s love for us and for all God s people everywhere.
That power of that love was there in the voice of the prophet crying out in the wilderness so long ago, and that love is there in the wilderness places of our own lives today. It was there in a manger in Bethlehem, as a newborn baby boy lay on his bed of straw. It was there thirty some years later as that same baby boy, now a grown man, died on a cross and brought new and unending life to us all. It was in Washington, D.C. in a scruffy derelict and in the kindness and compassion of a president. It was at a stop light in South Portland, Maine and in the joyous shrieking of a bunch of little kids reveling in the year s first snow. That love is here. In this place. At this very minute -the crazy, fathomless, surprising power of God s love, shown at its most glorious in a stable in Bethlehem. Are we ready for it? Amen The Ven. Audrey Delafield December 9, 2012