advent 3.
the gospel of luke 3:7-18.
for St. Paul’s House, a Lutheran Life Community, December 16, 2018.
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Grace and peace to you, beloveds, from God who is justice, Jesus Christ who is redeemer, and the Holy Spirit who is with us all. Amen.
John the Baptist is a prophet living in imperial Rome, under the reign of King Herod. John lives in the wilderness, on the fringes of society, outside of Temple walls. In this passage from Luke, he is probably in his late twenties, but no more than thirty. John’s mother, Elizabeth, is Mary’s cousin, and so I imagine that John and Jesus grew up together, the son of a priest and the son of a carpenter. Right after this passage, John baptizes Jesus. At some point, John left home to be a prophetic witness of God, drawing crowds in anticipation and longing for the coming of the Messiah.
John baptizes with water, and calls for the crowd to “produce fruit that shows you have changed your hearts and lives”. The ritual action of baptism, in John’s witness, isn’t enough on its own to bring God’s Kin-dom into being. It is an action, a sign, which marks out an active promise.
For John, what actions demonstrate that we have changed our hearts and lives, committing ourselves to God? He answers this question for the crowd three times.
The first answer is for anyone with abundance of food, or clothing, that they share freely with those in need.
The second answer is for government agents, that they shouldn’t abuse by exhortation and over-taxation.
The third answer is for law enforcement, that they shouldn’t harass or harm anyone.
Those responses feel pretty relevant for our current imperial power structure.
Wealth is hoarded by a few, and individual tax returns are withheld, because if they were released, the vast gulf in wealth between the few and the many would be brutally apparent. Clothing companies destroy their surplus goods, instead of sharing with those who can’t afford to buy them, so that they don’t ‘tarnish’ their brand.
Corporations that are making billions while their employees are on food stamps to survive, are not being taxed equitably, or sometimes at all. Collections agencies and ticketing systems target those already in the margins, who are usually unable to pay.
Police brutality and violence are real threats to disabled bodies, to Black and brown bodies, to trans and queer bodies. Just this week, a seven-year-old Guatemalan girl named Jakelin Ameí Rosmery Caal Maquin died while she was in custody of the US border patrol.
Our world today cries out in longing for us to embody the answers John the Baptist is giving to the crowd. In what ways can we nurture and grow the fruits of the Spirit of abundance? And if we committed ourselves to those fruits, what would happen? All would be fed, all would be clothed, government agencies would support the needs of the people, and we wouldn’t need to fear the people charged to protect us.
That imagining of the world-as-it-could be is so filled with tender joy. And the steps to get there are a harsh cry and challenge for change. John isn’t telling the crowd to think about repenting, or repenting in word but not in deed, he is telling the crowd “these are the things you must do to follow God’s will in the world”. These are the actions that will affirm your baptism.
John names structural sins and oppressions that are hurting people. He lays out a new type of social order, laying the path for Jesus’ future work. He gives concrete and challenging answers of ways to embody God’s Kin-dom.
And the crowd responds with expectation and delight. Even though John is asking them, and us, to do a hard thing – to change our relationships to power and each other, to give freely, reduce harm, increase equity and real, sustainable safety.
These changes ask that we act even after the holiday season of generosity is over. They might make us uncomfortable, because power and privilege thrive in superficial comfort. But they will bring us closer to our neighbors, and to God, in a deep, authentic, way.
The final step in this sequence is for us, the crowd, to go and live out these actions of justice, now and always anticipating the coming of Christ.
Reed Fowler 