Walking with Jesus: Third Sunday of Advent

For Sunday, December 17, 2023

Isaiah 61:1-2, 10-11; 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24; John 1:6-8, 19-28

At the midpoint of Advent today, we celebrate Gaudete — Rejoice Sunday. We might be saying, “There’s no way I can be  ready for Christmas — so much shopping to do — decorating — just getting myself in the right mode — a joyful mood, and I’m far from it.” Rejoice Sunday ... Paul urges us, “Rejoice always.” Isaiah blurts out, “I rejoice heartily in the Lord.” The vestments are rose-colored: a cheerful color, because the Lord is near. If we take a moment to look at John the Baptist, understanding what kind of person he is — and what kind of person he isn’t — we can see who he truly is. His life is for one purpose: announcing God’s plan, hidden for all ages: the Messiah … the Christ … Jesus … God Himself has arrived.

The people know John is different: “I am not the Christ … or Elijah returned from God … or the Prophet … so who are you? “I am the voice of one crying out in the desert, make straight the way of the Lord.” (John 1:23) Many listen to John … and many do not, especially the leaders of the people. He is put into prison and finally beheaded humiliatingly. Jesus pays him the greatest tribute: “Amen, I say to you, among those born of women there has been none greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.” (Matthew 1:11) Strange compliment — what is Jesus telling us? To be in the kingdom … to be in heaven ... is so great a privilege that the least who has attained it is greater than the Baptist. That’s a promise; that’s heaven. Am I working for this goal? Now? Personal success does not influence John the Baptist. What actually happens was what he cares about: accepting the reality of his life’s purpose is enough for him. Such is his faith. Today I ask: Where is my faith?

Scripture scholars believe that Isaiah’s words are addressed to the people after King Cyrus of Persia’s defeat of the Babylonians. This would be good news for them; news of “glad tidings … to proclaim liberty … and release …to announce a time of favor.” These words are directed to the outcasts of a defeated Israel. Isaiah uses the image of the desert made fertile by rain to illustrate the confident hope that God will restore His people who have been crushed by misfortune. He concludes that the most crippling disabilities —blindness, deafness and crippling lameness — will be relieved when God sends salvation to His people. These promises and prophecies so often are shown in Jesus’ compassion for the hurting, the diseased, and those rejected by society yet so precious and loved by God. Another Advent message is for me to remember those forgotten by society and yearning for love and acceptance.

Paul is cramming into the concluding verses of his first letter to the Thessalonians a bunch of ideas with differing verbs in an imperative voice: He commands to rejoice, pray, and give thanks always. He switches into citing the difficulty of adult faith and yet how critical it is. Then he urges what can be labeled a formation of one’s conscience that takes continued effort: Test everything, retain what is good, refrain from every evil. Then he looks at the now: his hopes for his listeners to grow in spirit, soul and body. All of these can be fulfilled not by relying on our own efforts but on God's grace, love and mercy.

In a nutshell, John is telling us that there stands among us, unknown to us, the one who is coming after him. In his prologue, the apostle John gives this description: “He was in the world, and the world came to be through Him, but the world did not know Him. He came to what was His own, but His own people did not accept Him. … And the Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us.” (John 1:10-11, 14) And in the wake of this overview, even when Jesus comes, for most of His life He goes unrecognized. Even when He enters the public sphere, not everyone believes Him.

And here we are today: Advent and Christmas come to help us. At Christmas we are filled with wonder at the nearness of God. In the incarnation, Jesus is perfectly hidden and perfectly revealed. God comes to us clothed in our humanity. “Have I been with you for so long a time and you still do not know me, Philip? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.” (John 14:9) Before the time of Jesus, God is seen as distant and remote, not really concerned about us and our sufferings. He is regarded as a righteous judge, more set on punishment. Jesus shows us God is with us. God is passionately concerned with each of us. He comes not to condemn but to save us. He is especially close to the weak, the forgotten, the poor, the hurting and the overburdened. This is why we rejoice: God loves us just the way we are. Praise the Lord.

For thought:

• I can’t be a witness to Christ’s light if I’m living in darkness; I have to be living in the light.

Sacred Space 2024 states:

“John the Baptist was a witness and pointed the way to Jesus, the true light. He was clear on his identity and his role, saying he was not the Messiah, or the prophet, but one whose baptism was preparatory. Let us be voices in the wilderness that announce  the presence of Jesus the eternal Word, even if we feel no one is listening.

“John was an object of curiosity, with priests being sent from Jerusalem into the wilderness to investigate. He humbly acknowledged his own role but directed them towards Jesus. In recognizing that ‘among you stands one whom you do not know,’ we may announce Jesus’ presence and message in word and in deed.”