Prepare Ye the Way of the Lord! (More Reflections of Advent)

"Then they said to him, 'Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?' He said, 'I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord!'"
                                                                       (John 1: 22-23)

John the Baptist. I love this guy. He's got to be one of my favorite New Testament characters. He's the ultimate radical priest--totally out of the mainstream. I see Jay Bakker and Shane Claiborne following in his footsteps. John's the kind of a guy who doesn't need a church building or an organization. He's out there with the people, talking to the disenfranchised, the confused, the wounded. He's in the bars and the shopping centers and the free clinics. Yes, he dresses a little funky and he enjoys a weird (if totally organic) diet, but he's in touch with what people need to hear, and he's not afraid to tell it like it is.

I love John, who always makes an appearance in the Revised Common Lectionary around the second or third Sundays in Advent, for his wonderful eccentricity. I respect his humility ("The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals." Mark 1:7), and I just really dig his intensity ("You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruit worthy of repentance!" Luke 3:7-8)

I've got to confess that there are times when I feel like getting intense and shouting at the crowds: "Hey! Listen! You sorry, lazy-assed excuses for Christians! WAKE UP!! GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER!!!"

(But I'm usually a little more subdued. I can't help it. I'm Lutheran.)

An esteemed colleague of mine recently compared John the Baptist to a 12-step program. We are a sick, tired, and addicted culture, and the first thing we need to do is admit that we have a problem. John calls us to repentance, a word which, in its original Greek, simply means a change of mind. You see, our culture has turned Christmas, originally the observance of the birth of a child born in poverty, into an orgy of excess--partying and spending like an addict binging on crack. As if lavishness and wrecklessness can somehow feed our spiritual hunger. But John calls us to a change of heart and mind. He calls us to an admission that what we're doing doesn't work, and will ultimately lead us back to emptiness.

We cannot have Christ, John tells us, until we are ready to receive him. We need to prepare for his coming. An alcoholic may win the lottery, but he'll just piss away the fortune without thought or gratitude and wind up as broken as before. We simply can't receive a blessing unless we know it's a blessing--and know how to accept and respect it.

If I could play John the Baptist this Advent, I would call my fellow citizens to repentance like this: I would challenge us to embrace the truth that we are all our brothers' keepers. Our indiviudal liberties are only of value if they can be used to promote peace and security for others. Otherwise, our freedom is only an excuse for our selfishness.

I would want to call the Church to repentance, too. I would challenge our image of God. Can we wash away the idea of God as either distant, punishing judge or cosmic ATM machine, and embrace the God who is Emanuel--God with us? Can we see our God in the faces of others around us? Can we learn to love God in this way? And can we accept and hold on to a conviction that true religion will not be understood by how we think of God, but by how we relate to each other?

If we are not ready to love the crying baby on the bus, or in the grocery store, or in the next pew over, how can we love the baby in the manger?

God bless you, my friend. Thank you for your visit.