William Van Nostran

Scripture Reading: Mark 1:1-8

Are you looking for the Christmas story, for the holy family, for the choir of angels, for the miracle in Bethlehem? Well, it’s just not here. Maybe, Mark simply doesn’t know all the details surrounding the Nativity... Or, is it because he doesn’t think the birth story is important enough to retell?

Mark is the only one of the four evangelists to refer to his book as a gospel; a term that has always meant "good news," and in just eight verses, we come to understand that it means: THE "good news" of our salvation. Perhaps, putting too much emphasis on what we have come to know as the Christmas story might detract from the story of Jesus’ ministry and mission: to bring healing to the sick, sight to the blind, and hope to sinners by His death and resurrection. Instead of celebrating the third Sunday before Christmas, Mark is marking the 20-something Sunday before Easter!

Again, our lesson today doesn’t begin with angels appearing to Mary. There are no shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night, no wise men from the East following a star, no cattle lowing in a stable stuffed with straw. For Mark, the good news of Jesus Christ begins in the wilderness of Judea, with an eccentric named John, the first real prophet to turn up in Israel in centuries.

He is dressed in camel’s hair with a leather belt, and his hair and beard look as if they have never been cut. There is even some question whether or not his skinny frame, sustained only by insects and honey, can hold him up straight. But, there’s no question: this man is clearly a messenger—predicted by Isaiah, dressed like Elijah, sent by God—a real classic prophet. Is the picture of John what comes to mind when you think of a great prophet? I have him pictured parting the waters, not bathing in them! And yet, the gospel story tells us that the people flocked to him!

What were you looking for? Or, according to Matthew, Jesus asked those who quizzed him about John, "What did you go out into the wilderness to see?" Zealous Jews who longed for the overthrow of the Romans looked for the advance guard of a warrior Messiah and his armies. Boy, were they disappointed! Pious Jews who longed for the arrival of a spiritual Messiah looked for a holy man whose flowing robes and well-kept beard would be obvious signs of greatness. Instead they encountered an unkempt, off-centered, outspoken, hermit, baptizer, armed not with weapons or wonders, but waging war nonetheless with water.

Well, then, why did people keep coming to see him? You’d think that curiosity alone would have been completely satisfied within the first couple of visitor reports. "He’s not at all what we expected. And, he’s making lots of threatening remarks about the way we ought to live and demanding really unsettling changes. He says he’s not the ‘One who is to come,’ but he’s not sure who is coming either."

I can’t figure it out. Everything I know about John makes me think I would have gone out of my way NOT to see him. In some respects, he sounds a lot like those street corner evangelists, who wave their Bibles and tell you exactly where you’re headed if you don’t repent--and, right away. Only, there is one big difference between them and John. Self-appointed prophets tend to plant themselves right in your way so that you have to cross to the other side of the street to avoid them. They get right in your face and dare you to ignore them, whereas John planted himself out in the middle of nowhere.

John set up camp in the wilderness, and anyone who wanted to hear what he had to say had to travel outside the safety of the city and go to a lot of trouble to get there. Why would anyone do such a thing? Especially someone from Jerusalem: where the temple was; where the rabbis were; where the holy Scriptures were regularly studied and argued. If you wanted to hear from God, why not just stay in the city, maybe attend some extra synagogue services or make an appointment with one of the chief priests? Clearly, anyone who would turn away from the easy and convenient, and set off for the wilderness, was looking for something else; something special--something the temple could not, or would not, supply.

Whatever "something else" is; John must have had it. He might have looked just about as scary as someone from another planet, but when he spoke--it was as if he were repeating what God was saying to him right at that moment, one sentence at a time. He didn’t have many details, but he knew that the old world was about to end and a new world was spinning toward him. John didn’t know His name or what he looked like, only that the new world order would be carried in the arms of God’s chosen one—the one whose coming, John was sent to announce.

It was a world that would be built out of a new promise, not simply by rearranging the old beliefs. The truth had been covered up in Jerusalem, with pretend piety, temple taxes, and high priestly hocus-pocus. The flame was nearly snuffed out under the weight of all that pretense and show. So, God moved it out into the wilderness, where the air was crisp and clean, out under the stars where the spark was fanned by the most socially unacceptable character anyone could imagine. Dressed in animal hair with a piece of tanned hide around his waist, John proclaimed that someone was coming--someone so spectacular, that it was not enough simply to hang around, waiting for Him to arrive. It was time to get ready, time to prepare the way, to put out the welcome mat, so that when He came He could walk right through their doors and into their hearts.

That was the "good news" that started with John, and the message lit him up like a bonfire in the wilderness. People were drawn to him, not only because of who he was and what he said, but also because of what he offered them--a chance to come clean, stop pretending, and start over again, by allowing him to wash them off. "Baptisma," the original Greek text,comes from the same verb which means "to turn yourself around." The chance to change—to begin again was what John offered those who came to him—not only the seekers who were children of the promise, but also women who were not allowed in the inner sanctuary of the temple; even the sinners and the un-circumcised who wouldn’t dream of trying to get inside.

John set up shop in the wilderness, where he proclaimed a freedom from the temple and its pharisees, with all their rules and requirements. It was no longer going to be enough to simply obey the old laws. John didn’t want the people to be caught napping when their long-awaited Savior arrived. He called them to wake up, clean up, and turn around, so they would not miss the way in which God was changing things, before their eyes.

The "good news" always begins with a messenger, whether it is an angel whispering in Mary’s ear, or a skinny prophet standing knee-deep in a river. But, what strikes me about this messenger—John the Baptizer—is that they he was nowhere near a church, and those who insisted on staying inside the church never heard his message. Only those who were willing to enter the wilderness got to experience the blaze!

But, what are you looking for? Is it the voice crying out–the one from the wilderness, the one you can’t quite make out from your life’s routines or from your regular, Sunday pew? Or, is it the voice being drowned out now by the over-commercial, only 20 more shopping days, Christmas message—the one that is already playing on the radio, and in the department stores; playing so loudly that you can’t help but listen to it? John’s message is that, if we don’t pause quietly, turn ourselves around, and start again clean, or if we can only listen for God, when and where it is easy or convenient for us, we just might miss what all God is saying.

I think, each one of us, has some idea where our own wilderness lies, as well as a long list of all the good reasons why we should not go there. We are pretty comfortable where we are. Unlike the prophet, we bathe pretty regularly, we know just how to dress, our speech is generally politically correct, and we don’t miss many meals. Why would we want to look for God anywhere else?

Look for the "good news" in your wilderness. You may have to step away from what makes you most comfortable, and reach out to the neighbor or stranger who really needs you. You may have to step toward that relationship which gives you the greatest challenge, and reach out to the parent or child whom you really need. Show others that THE "good news" of great joy, born in the city of David; the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger is Christ, the Lord—and that He is the "good news" that lives in your heart.

Oh... and, if you are worried that you may not be an acceptable messenger, remember that "acceptable" is not the kind of prophet God usually calls. Amen.

8 December 2002