We’re in the season of Advent which means we are on the way to Bethlehem. We like getting to Bethlehem: the babe in the manger, the shepherds, angel chorus, magi. Lots of wonderful things happen in Bethlehem. But as I say, we’re on the way there and to get there we have to go through the wilderness. The only way to Bethlehem is through the wilderness, the desert where things are not so wonderful. There are some rough ways that need to be made smooth and some crooked ways that need to be straightened out. And in the desert there is that voice crying out, that nagging messenger: “Repent,” he says. Have you heard John the Baptist preach? On the way to Bethlehem, on the way to Christmas, we hear the Baptist preach.
Some people might have listened to the preacher because they are curious. That preacher fellow wears funny clothes and eats weird stuff. The Baptist fussed with them. “Who told you to flee the coming wrath?” But if you really hear what the Baptist preaches then you take notice. He so much as said, “The judge is coming and I’m here to serve subpoenas.” People heeded that message, yes they did. Perhaps because of his personal character, his radical behavior, they felt like they were in the presence of God. He made things clear and true. No place to run, nowhere to hide. When you hear the Baptist preach on your way to Bethlehem you understand you’ve got to get out of the car and fix that broken headlight and make sure the oil pan isn’t leaking. “Repent,” the preacher says. You’ve got to change, to be different, before you get to Bethlehem.
Did you hear the Baptist preach? The axe is laid to the root. We have to chop out of our lives all the anger, all the resentment, all the grudges, all the bitterness, all the fear that keeps us apart, keeps us from recognizing that we are on the journey to Bethlehem together. We need one another to make it. Did you hear the Baptist preach? The winnowing fan is in his hand and it will cause to blow away all the deceptions, all the pretending, all the distorted values, all the irresponsibility that can make us think there is a short cut on the way to Bethlehem, that we can get there without repenting. We might not have chosen the route of repentance if we had our druthers, but when you hear the Baptist preach you know that is the only path that will get us where we want to go.
This Advent as we are driving down the highway to Bethlehem the voice of the preacher comes over the radio telling us to repent. What exactly does that mean, to repent? It means starting over. It means throwing out that burnt roux and beginning your soup again. It means re-entering the address on your GPS because you are going the wrong way. It means erasing all of the equations which fill up the blackboard and getting a fresh piece of chalk. When we repent we realize that we are not stuck, we don’t have to live in a way that fills us with frustration and worry and doubt. Starting all over again is going to be rough, so rough, but we’re going to make it.
Did you hear the preaching of the Baptist? He is telling us that today is the first day of the rest of our lives. On the way to Bethlehem you need to put on a clean shirt, iron you pants and polish your shoes. Repentance means having a new start in our life of faith. John the Baptist told them not to rely on the faith they inherited. So you have Abraham as your father. Big Whoop. So you come to church on a Sunday. You still need to deepen your life of prayer, come to know who Jesus is for you, rely on the presence of the Holy Spirit to show you the right path. Faith is not a rock that we keep locked away to pull out as needed. Faith is a ficus tree that needs regular watering and trimming and sunshine in order to thrive.
Did you hear the Baptist preach a word of repentance? On the way to Bethlehem we must deepen our sense of hope. In the epistle for today St. Paul says that by “the encouragement of the Scriptures” we have hope. When we hope we understand that God isn’t finished with us yet. When we hope we believe that no matter how bad things seem, God can make a way out of no way. When we hope we trust that violence can cease, hatred will end, divisions will heal. For this reason the twin sister of hope is patience – patience with all that is unfinished in myself, my family, the city, the world. As the poet Emily Dickinson put it: “Hope” is the thing with feathers –That perches in the soul –And sings the tune without the words –And never stops – at all.
On the way to Bethlehem we hear the Baptist preach a word of repentance and are reminded we must start over in love. Oh, we do love our family, our friends, our connections, the people close to us. But on journey to Bethlehem there are so many other people on the road – people who don’t look like us, don’t think like us, don’t act like us. They deserve our love too. As Nancy Pelosi reminded us the other day as Catholics we must love everyone – the president that we pray for and the homeless refugee we care for. We repent of our tendency to narrow our circle of care and find our particular way of loving all God’s children wherever they may be.
We like Bethlehem, we like Christmas. However, on the way to Bethlehem, as we go through the wilderness, we hear the Baptist preach. Once you hear him, you will never be the same. Once you hear him, Christmas will never be the same.
