Chapter Six
Monologues
Telling It Like It Was
Preaching In The First Person
During the season of Advent the Lectionary provides numerous opportunities for a sermon about John the Baptist and his message. The heightened pageantry of the season makes a first person sermon especially appropriate. John is certainly a colorful character in his own right, and there are sufficient references to him in Scripture to provide us with a story line. But what might he have to say, beyond the telling of his own story, that would help members of a Christian congregation today to express their discipleship?
The differences in attitude, style, and message between Jesus and John provide a convenient outline for John to use as he gives his witness to who Jesus is. The fact that he did not fully understand the role of Jesus makes John a more authentic human being. John gives witness to as much of Jesus' ministry as he can understand. This leads him to make the point that we, too, are called to witness in the best way we can, even when we haven't got everything worked out to our satisfaction.
My objective in this sermon was to encourage people to share what they know of Christ. A one-sentence summary would be: "Contrasting the lives of John the Baptist and Jesus helps us to understand Jesus." Since much of the Scripture material about John comes from the later part of his ministry, I wanted to place this monologue as close to his death as possible without having him comment on his own death. I therefore imagined him in his prison cell, awaiting his end. To make the congregation aware of the fact that witness is sometimes given at great cost, I placed the following sentence in the worship folder under the sermon title: "John the Baptist was beheaded by King Herod prior to the crucifixion of Jesus for his outspoken criticism of the king's conduct."
John The Baptist
John 1:19-34
Sitting here in this cold, dark prison cell I have had a lot of time to think. When you're locked up, it makes you wonder if the direction your life has taken is the right one. I always thought that Jesus and I were on the same track, but as I sit here alone, I have come to see more clearly how we have differed. That has given me pause as I evaluate my life and ministry. I'd like to share some of those differences with you so that you can get a clearer picture of Jesus of Nazareth and the importance of his life for you.
The first thing that now occurs to me is how different our attitudes toward life have been. Some of that, I suppose, is a product of the things we were exposed to while growing up. My name is John Ben Zechariah. Some people call me John the Baptizer, or John the Baptist. John Ben Zechariah means John, son of Zechariah. My father was a priest who lived in the hill country of Judea, in southern Palestine. One day, when it was his turn to offer the sacrifice in the Temple at Jerusalem, he had a vision in which he was told that he was going to have a son, and that that son would have a special place in God's plan: that son would be a prophet. He was told to call the son John, and raise him as a Nazirite, which means someone who is dedicated to God, someone whose life is to be marked by purity. My mother's name was Elizabeth; she was a cousin of Mary, who later became the mother of Jesus. I was born about three months before Jesus was born.
Growing up as I did in the hill country of Judea, I often made my way to the desert area around the Dead Sea. There were situated there a number of small communities dedicated to purity of life. My contacts with these people became more and more frequent. As a result, these people had a significant impact on my view of the world. They taught me that life in the towns and cities was corrupt, so I learned to prefer the wilderness. They taught that good Jews must be scrupulous about keeping dietary laws, so I learned to eat the food of the desert -- locust and wild honey -- and to avoid any compromise in diet. They taught that the soft life would make us ill-prepared to serve as God's soldiers, so I gave up soft clothing and took to wearing a camel skin. I became convinced that God wanted us Jews to avoid contact with Gentiles, to follow an austere lifestyle, to avoid anything that would corrupt us, and to focus on keeping the letter of God's law. Because of my zeal, I'm sure that a number of people who knew me thought of me as a crazy man.
Jesus, on the other hand, had a different set of experiences. He grew up in a town, and he accepted the fact that most people couldn't just pull up stakes and move out to the desert. He lived as ordinary people lived, he dressed as they did, ate what they ate, drank what they drank. In fact, his casual observance of the dietary laws made some people call him a glutton and a drunkard.
The town in which he grew up, Nazareth, is in the area called Galilee, a kind of commercial crossroads, subject to the customs of all kinds of people. In fact, we call the area "Galilee of the Gentiles." Because of these outside influences, it is a place where our kosher laws are often compromised. Jesus was known to eat without going through the ritual washing of hands we are supposed to observe. He was often at dinner parties and social gatherings. He associated with people that our more devout citizens called sinners. I felt that if a person took our religion very seriously, that person should avoid all those things. Jesus enjoyed life too much for a person who was supposed to be religious.
We also had different ways of dealing with people. When I was about 28 years old, I felt that God was calling me to preach to my people. I left the desert and began preaching along the Jordan River. I felt that people needed to be confronted with their sinfulness so that they would repent, but first I had to get their attention. Would you like to hear how I did that? I'd see a group of people and I would come up and challenge them: "You snakes! Who told you that you could escape from God's wrath that is about to come? Do the things that will show you have turned from your sins. And don't start saying among yourselves, 'Abraham is our ancestor,' as though that were all that is necessary to be on good terms with God. I tell you that God can take these rocks and make descendants for Abraham!" That usually got their attention. I would point out ways in which they were breaking God's laws and I would tell them to repent because God's kingdom was at hand. People came out to the river by the hundreds to hear my message, to repent, and to ask what they could do to please God. I told them to be baptized -- that is, to wash themselves in the Jordan River as a sign that they really wanted to be cleansed from their unrighteousness. Large numbers of people followed my advice.
Then, one day, Jesus showed up in the crowd and asked me to baptize him. This was before he embarked on his public ministry. I knew him, of course. He is my second cousin. His mother, Mary, and my mother, Elizabeth, were pregnant about the same time, and my family had told me that they expected something special from Jesus. But I hadn't seen him in quite a while. As soon as I saw him, something inside me said, "This is the one you have been proclaiming; this is the one who is going to deliver Israel." I was confused by this new thought. If he were the deliverer, I should be baptized by him. I suggested that, but he responded, "Let it be done this way for now." I consented, and as soon as he came up out of the water, there was some kind of mystical change about him, as though he had just resolved a great problem. The next thing he did was to go out and live in the desert for a while. I guess he was getting his thoughts together and planning his strategy.
About forty days later he returned to where I was preaching and I caught a glimpse of him in the crowd. I was anxious to see what he would do next. Israel needed a good house-cleaning, and if I had called people snakes to get their attention, he would no doubt be even more confrontational.
But that isn't the way he went about it. Instead of judging people, he affirmed them. Instead of convicting them of their sins, he seemed to accept people with all their weaknesses. Instead of emphasizing the law that was being broken, he stressed the love of God. Instead of keeping himself free from sinners, he included a hated tax collector and a terrorist among his close associates. He allowed a woman of doubtful reputation to have a place in his entourage. He said that Zacchaeus, a known collaborator with the Romans, had a place in God's love. I did not understand his methods.
Our messages differed too. My message emphasized judgment. I told people that the ax was about to fall, that even the tree of Israel would be pruned to the very roots. "Every tree that does not bear good fruit," I said, "will be cut down and thrown into the fire." "Keeping God's law means everything," I would say, "and those who do not keep it will suffer God's wrath." I was out to reform sinners. How else could you do that if you didn't scare people into action?
Jesus, on the other hand, stressed the gracious acceptance of sinners by God. Instead of reforming sinners, he was out to redeem them. Instead of pouring judgment on people's failures, he spoke about the availability of an abundant life. He seemed to be wooing people into the Kingdom rather than scaring them into it. He preferred the carrot to the stick, but I didn't have much confidence that his message would change people. If he were the Messiah, he ought to be taking some significant action.
Not long after Jesus began his public ministry, I was arrested because I criticized Herod, the ruler of our province, for taking his brother's wife. I have been sitting here in this prison cell, day after day, waiting for word that Jesus was getting on with the business of being the Messiah. If he is God's special person, you would think he would begin to take action against everything that is contrary to God's will. You'd expect some evidence of God's power.
Some of my closest followers are allowed to come and visit me in this prison cell. They tell me what is going on out in the world. One day recently I became so discouraged at Jesus' inaction that I sent some of my followers to Jesus with a question: "Are you who we think you are or not? Are you going to show yourself or should we look for somebody else?"
Jesus was not about to be pressured to do what we wanted him to do. Instead, he spoke unapologetically to my friends and said, "Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised up and the poor have good news preached to them."
It has become apparent to me that Jesus is not going to do things my way. Our style, our methods, our message differ from each other. Is he right? Was I wrong? These are thoughts that have been running through my mind since my friends returned with Jesus' response.
Fortunately, God has helped me to resolve my doubts about Jesus and about my own calling. Sitting here, my mind took me back to an incident that happened shortly after I baptized Jesus. Some authorities from the Temple in Jerusalem came out to question me at the Jordan River. They wanted to check out the correctness of my beliefs, and also to find out what kind of aspirations I might have, if any. All kinds of strange stories had built up about who I was and what I was doing. By then I had a number of loyal followers, and I suppose the authorities were afraid I might lead some sort of revolt.
So they came right out and asked me, "Are you the Messiah?" I answered, "I am not the Messiah."
"Are you Elijah, then?" they asked, for our Scriptures state that Elijah will return ahead of the Messiah. I answered that I was not Elijah either, though I know that Jesus did later refer to me as one who came in the spirit and power of Elijah.
"Are you that other prophet?" they asked, referring to a statement made by Moses that one day a prophet would arise who would be like Moses. "No," I said, "I am not that prophet either."
"Well, then, who are you?" they insisted. For the first time my role suddenly became clear to me. I was not destined to be the leader of some great movement; I was to serve as a proclaimer of someone else. So I answered them with words from the prophet Isaiah. I said, "I am the voice of one who shouts in the desert: 'Make straight a path for the Lord to travel.' " I was to be a herald, one who goes out ahead of a king to make the province ready for his coming.
It's strange. I hadn't thought about that incident until my friends returned with Jesus' response. Now the recollection of it gives me much comfort. My own words remind me of my role. I am not the savior of the world. I am simply a voice called to give testimony to what God is doing in the world. I had to do what I did my way because of who I am. If my methods were imperfect, I am sorry for that. All I have wanted to do is to catch people's attention.
I do not know if I will ever get out of this cell. If I do not, that will be all right. I have done what I was called to do. I have been a voice calling people to prepare, to make a place for God in their lives. I may not always have fully understood what God was intending to do, but I have been faithful to the best of my understanding.
I have also been a pointer, not pointing to myself, but to the one whose way I was preparing. One day, when I was preaching by the Jordan River, I saw Jesus in the crowd. I pointed to him and said, "There is the lamb of God." Immediately, two of my followers left me and followed Jesus. That was a hard thing for me to accept, but it has become clear to me that that is as it should be. He must increase, and I must decrease.
There is a lesson here for all who have come to appreciate Jesus. We are to be voices, witnesses to those around us. We are to be pointers to the one who is making a difference in our lives. I did it in my way; you do it in yours. But however it occurs to you to do it, do it.
The differences in attitude, style, and message between Jesus and John provide a convenient outline for John to use as he gives his witness to who Jesus is. The fact that he did not fully understand the role of Jesus makes John a more authentic human being. John gives witness to as much of Jesus' ministry as he can understand. This leads him to make the point that we, too, are called to witness in the best way we can, even when we haven't got everything worked out to our satisfaction.
My objective in this sermon was to encourage people to share what they know of Christ. A one-sentence summary would be: "Contrasting the lives of John the Baptist and Jesus helps us to understand Jesus." Since much of the Scripture material about John comes from the later part of his ministry, I wanted to place this monologue as close to his death as possible without having him comment on his own death. I therefore imagined him in his prison cell, awaiting his end. To make the congregation aware of the fact that witness is sometimes given at great cost, I placed the following sentence in the worship folder under the sermon title: "John the Baptist was beheaded by King Herod prior to the crucifixion of Jesus for his outspoken criticism of the king's conduct."
John The Baptist
John 1:19-34
Sitting here in this cold, dark prison cell I have had a lot of time to think. When you're locked up, it makes you wonder if the direction your life has taken is the right one. I always thought that Jesus and I were on the same track, but as I sit here alone, I have come to see more clearly how we have differed. That has given me pause as I evaluate my life and ministry. I'd like to share some of those differences with you so that you can get a clearer picture of Jesus of Nazareth and the importance of his life for you.
The first thing that now occurs to me is how different our attitudes toward life have been. Some of that, I suppose, is a product of the things we were exposed to while growing up. My name is John Ben Zechariah. Some people call me John the Baptizer, or John the Baptist. John Ben Zechariah means John, son of Zechariah. My father was a priest who lived in the hill country of Judea, in southern Palestine. One day, when it was his turn to offer the sacrifice in the Temple at Jerusalem, he had a vision in which he was told that he was going to have a son, and that that son would have a special place in God's plan: that son would be a prophet. He was told to call the son John, and raise him as a Nazirite, which means someone who is dedicated to God, someone whose life is to be marked by purity. My mother's name was Elizabeth; she was a cousin of Mary, who later became the mother of Jesus. I was born about three months before Jesus was born.
Growing up as I did in the hill country of Judea, I often made my way to the desert area around the Dead Sea. There were situated there a number of small communities dedicated to purity of life. My contacts with these people became more and more frequent. As a result, these people had a significant impact on my view of the world. They taught me that life in the towns and cities was corrupt, so I learned to prefer the wilderness. They taught that good Jews must be scrupulous about keeping dietary laws, so I learned to eat the food of the desert -- locust and wild honey -- and to avoid any compromise in diet. They taught that the soft life would make us ill-prepared to serve as God's soldiers, so I gave up soft clothing and took to wearing a camel skin. I became convinced that God wanted us Jews to avoid contact with Gentiles, to follow an austere lifestyle, to avoid anything that would corrupt us, and to focus on keeping the letter of God's law. Because of my zeal, I'm sure that a number of people who knew me thought of me as a crazy man.
Jesus, on the other hand, had a different set of experiences. He grew up in a town, and he accepted the fact that most people couldn't just pull up stakes and move out to the desert. He lived as ordinary people lived, he dressed as they did, ate what they ate, drank what they drank. In fact, his casual observance of the dietary laws made some people call him a glutton and a drunkard.
The town in which he grew up, Nazareth, is in the area called Galilee, a kind of commercial crossroads, subject to the customs of all kinds of people. In fact, we call the area "Galilee of the Gentiles." Because of these outside influences, it is a place where our kosher laws are often compromised. Jesus was known to eat without going through the ritual washing of hands we are supposed to observe. He was often at dinner parties and social gatherings. He associated with people that our more devout citizens called sinners. I felt that if a person took our religion very seriously, that person should avoid all those things. Jesus enjoyed life too much for a person who was supposed to be religious.
We also had different ways of dealing with people. When I was about 28 years old, I felt that God was calling me to preach to my people. I left the desert and began preaching along the Jordan River. I felt that people needed to be confronted with their sinfulness so that they would repent, but first I had to get their attention. Would you like to hear how I did that? I'd see a group of people and I would come up and challenge them: "You snakes! Who told you that you could escape from God's wrath that is about to come? Do the things that will show you have turned from your sins. And don't start saying among yourselves, 'Abraham is our ancestor,' as though that were all that is necessary to be on good terms with God. I tell you that God can take these rocks and make descendants for Abraham!" That usually got their attention. I would point out ways in which they were breaking God's laws and I would tell them to repent because God's kingdom was at hand. People came out to the river by the hundreds to hear my message, to repent, and to ask what they could do to please God. I told them to be baptized -- that is, to wash themselves in the Jordan River as a sign that they really wanted to be cleansed from their unrighteousness. Large numbers of people followed my advice.
Then, one day, Jesus showed up in the crowd and asked me to baptize him. This was before he embarked on his public ministry. I knew him, of course. He is my second cousin. His mother, Mary, and my mother, Elizabeth, were pregnant about the same time, and my family had told me that they expected something special from Jesus. But I hadn't seen him in quite a while. As soon as I saw him, something inside me said, "This is the one you have been proclaiming; this is the one who is going to deliver Israel." I was confused by this new thought. If he were the deliverer, I should be baptized by him. I suggested that, but he responded, "Let it be done this way for now." I consented, and as soon as he came up out of the water, there was some kind of mystical change about him, as though he had just resolved a great problem. The next thing he did was to go out and live in the desert for a while. I guess he was getting his thoughts together and planning his strategy.
About forty days later he returned to where I was preaching and I caught a glimpse of him in the crowd. I was anxious to see what he would do next. Israel needed a good house-cleaning, and if I had called people snakes to get their attention, he would no doubt be even more confrontational.
But that isn't the way he went about it. Instead of judging people, he affirmed them. Instead of convicting them of their sins, he seemed to accept people with all their weaknesses. Instead of emphasizing the law that was being broken, he stressed the love of God. Instead of keeping himself free from sinners, he included a hated tax collector and a terrorist among his close associates. He allowed a woman of doubtful reputation to have a place in his entourage. He said that Zacchaeus, a known collaborator with the Romans, had a place in God's love. I did not understand his methods.
Our messages differed too. My message emphasized judgment. I told people that the ax was about to fall, that even the tree of Israel would be pruned to the very roots. "Every tree that does not bear good fruit," I said, "will be cut down and thrown into the fire." "Keeping God's law means everything," I would say, "and those who do not keep it will suffer God's wrath." I was out to reform sinners. How else could you do that if you didn't scare people into action?
Jesus, on the other hand, stressed the gracious acceptance of sinners by God. Instead of reforming sinners, he was out to redeem them. Instead of pouring judgment on people's failures, he spoke about the availability of an abundant life. He seemed to be wooing people into the Kingdom rather than scaring them into it. He preferred the carrot to the stick, but I didn't have much confidence that his message would change people. If he were the Messiah, he ought to be taking some significant action.
Not long after Jesus began his public ministry, I was arrested because I criticized Herod, the ruler of our province, for taking his brother's wife. I have been sitting here in this prison cell, day after day, waiting for word that Jesus was getting on with the business of being the Messiah. If he is God's special person, you would think he would begin to take action against everything that is contrary to God's will. You'd expect some evidence of God's power.
Some of my closest followers are allowed to come and visit me in this prison cell. They tell me what is going on out in the world. One day recently I became so discouraged at Jesus' inaction that I sent some of my followers to Jesus with a question: "Are you who we think you are or not? Are you going to show yourself or should we look for somebody else?"
Jesus was not about to be pressured to do what we wanted him to do. Instead, he spoke unapologetically to my friends and said, "Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised up and the poor have good news preached to them."
It has become apparent to me that Jesus is not going to do things my way. Our style, our methods, our message differ from each other. Is he right? Was I wrong? These are thoughts that have been running through my mind since my friends returned with Jesus' response.
Fortunately, God has helped me to resolve my doubts about Jesus and about my own calling. Sitting here, my mind took me back to an incident that happened shortly after I baptized Jesus. Some authorities from the Temple in Jerusalem came out to question me at the Jordan River. They wanted to check out the correctness of my beliefs, and also to find out what kind of aspirations I might have, if any. All kinds of strange stories had built up about who I was and what I was doing. By then I had a number of loyal followers, and I suppose the authorities were afraid I might lead some sort of revolt.
So they came right out and asked me, "Are you the Messiah?" I answered, "I am not the Messiah."
"Are you Elijah, then?" they asked, for our Scriptures state that Elijah will return ahead of the Messiah. I answered that I was not Elijah either, though I know that Jesus did later refer to me as one who came in the spirit and power of Elijah.
"Are you that other prophet?" they asked, referring to a statement made by Moses that one day a prophet would arise who would be like Moses. "No," I said, "I am not that prophet either."
"Well, then, who are you?" they insisted. For the first time my role suddenly became clear to me. I was not destined to be the leader of some great movement; I was to serve as a proclaimer of someone else. So I answered them with words from the prophet Isaiah. I said, "I am the voice of one who shouts in the desert: 'Make straight a path for the Lord to travel.' " I was to be a herald, one who goes out ahead of a king to make the province ready for his coming.
It's strange. I hadn't thought about that incident until my friends returned with Jesus' response. Now the recollection of it gives me much comfort. My own words remind me of my role. I am not the savior of the world. I am simply a voice called to give testimony to what God is doing in the world. I had to do what I did my way because of who I am. If my methods were imperfect, I am sorry for that. All I have wanted to do is to catch people's attention.
I do not know if I will ever get out of this cell. If I do not, that will be all right. I have done what I was called to do. I have been a voice calling people to prepare, to make a place for God in their lives. I may not always have fully understood what God was intending to do, but I have been faithful to the best of my understanding.
I have also been a pointer, not pointing to myself, but to the one whose way I was preparing. One day, when I was preaching by the Jordan River, I saw Jesus in the crowd. I pointed to him and said, "There is the lamb of God." Immediately, two of my followers left me and followed Jesus. That was a hard thing for me to accept, but it has become clear to me that that is as it should be. He must increase, and I must decrease.
There is a lesson here for all who have come to appreciate Jesus. We are to be voices, witnesses to those around us. We are to be pointers to the one who is making a difference in our lives. I did it in my way; you do it in yours. But however it occurs to you to do it, do it.
