The Speed Bump On The Road To Bethlehem
Stories
Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit
Series VI, Cycle C
Object:
In the movie Life Or Something Like It,1 every day at the corner of Fourth and Sanders in downtown Seattle, homeless Prophet Jack (played perfectly by Tony Shaloub) would scramble onto his crate, thrust his arms into the air, arch his back, throw back his head, gaze into the sky, and then prophesy: "I see and I say."
One day television reporter Lanie Kerrigan (played by Angelina Jolie) happened by Jack's pulpit. She tossed a few coins into his coffer and in return received a disturbing message. Prophet Jack prophesied that the Seahawks would beat the Broncos 1613, that it would hail the next day, and that on Thursday Lanie would die. She dismissed Jack as outrageously loony, until he looked her straight in the eye and with utmost seriousness said, "Prophets don't joke." Lanie was a bottle blond, but she was not a dumb blond, so when Jack's first two prophecies came true, she repented of her ways and reformed her life.
Jack is not a bad imitation of the hero of our text. We meet him every year at this time in our preparations for the arrival of the Christ Child. To be honest, if it were not for the fact that the lectionary deposits us annually at his desert camp, we would probably barrel right on toward the manger without ever noticing him at all. But here he is again, a speed bump on the road to Bethlehem.
The gospel writers apparently think John is a pretty important character in this Jesus narrative. All four talk about him, while just two mention the Lord's birth. Luke is particularly insistent that we take him seriously because he goes to some lengths in noting the historical context of his ministry. But "the word of God" came neither from imperial Rome nor from Israel's religious establishment. It did not come from someone dressed in fashionable clothes who lived in an expensive palace. Nor did it come from a corporate board room, a cloistered convent, or a university laboratory. It came from this unusual character, strange, really, whether by the standards of our day or even his own. His base of operations is out in the boonies, Bethany beyond the Jordan. His attire looks like something cobbled together by a survivalist, camel's hair tunic with a leather belt around his waist. The lunch buffet consists of locusts and wild honey. His message is not particularly attractive, not "God's in his heaven and all's right with the world"; far from it. It is an apocalyptic vision and a call to change: "Repent ... now ... for the kingdom of heaven is near" (Matthew 3:2). That is it. No heartwarming stories, no three points and a poem, no pious platitudes. He just stands there, roaring his simple sermon like a lion. No microphones necessary -- you could probably hear him before you could see him. "Repent!" echoes off the desert landscape. And prophets don't joke, remember. The word, not simply of John, but the word of God.
Recall the dear old Scottish lady who referred to a young man as obviously fitted for the ministry because he was a "right harmless laddie." Say what? Don't tell John. The Bible never thinks of religion as a discussion of nice, cozy, and harmless table talks. The word, rather, is described as "living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart" (Hebrews 4:12). For John, this was a time for slicing and dicing.
Is that what you need on the way to Bethlehem? I do. And not just on the way to Bethlehem -- I need to hear it regularly. You see, regularly I find myself caught up in the busyness of the world. There is hustle and bustle out there, not just as we approach Christmas, but all year through. I major in minors and make mountains out of molehills, even though I know better. The news of the world is routinely horrible, and that is so frustrating. No, "peace on earth, goodwill to men" seems like some far-off dream. I want to lash out.
But then comes this call to repent. Before you get to the manger, repent. John is the speed bump on the road to Bethlehem. Jack, the street prophet in Seattle, says, "I see and I say ... make ready for what is coming," and he echoes those soaring words of Isaiah that Luke quotes: "Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths for him. Every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill made low. The crooked roads shall become straight, the rough ways smooth" (Luke 3:4-5). The picture is drawn from those massive engineering efforts of ancient Babylon that Israel would have seen during their exile. Straight new roads -- superhighways -- not those old roads that are content to follow the terrain. For the ancients, this was a theological statement: nothing must be allowed to impede or delay the coming of God.
What a message for us at Advent! "Let every heart prepare him room" we sing. Perhaps we would do well to say let every heart get out the bulldozers and backhoes, the rock crushers, and road graders. There are mountains that need to come down -- mountains of racism, sexism, ageism, and any other "-isms" that would block our way to healthy relationships with one another and with our Lord. There are valleys to be filled -- valleys of depression, despair, loneliness, grief, pain, any of which can keep us from the rich relationship the Savior offers and that keep us from enjoying the fellowship of the faith. There are crooked places to be made straight -- yes, there is perversity, even among those we might never imagine; fine exteriors mask rotten interiors of abuse, neglect, immorality, even violence. There are rough places to be made smooth -- rough places that have come because of oppression and injustice. There is work to do! Bring on the heavy equipment!
There is a wonderful conclusion to all the effort. As the text has it, "all mankind will see God's salvation" (Luke 3:6). Picture it. This mass of humanity is stretched out along the hillsides overlooking this wonderful wide highway. As far as the eye can see they are spread out. Men and women, boys and girls, rich and poor, young and old, slave and free. Every nation, tongue, and tribe, red, and yellow, black and white. All are anxiously gathered to watch for the arrival of the King of all kings who is the embodiment of God's salvation, God's healing, God's wholeness, God's shalom.
Can you see it? Yes, vision is hampered. The mountains are so high and the valleys so low, the crooked places are still horribly bent and the rough places resist every attempt to smooth them. Look beyond all that. Look to God's salvation ... Jeshua ... Iesus ... Jesus. See Jesus in the lives of your fellow worshipers ... see Jesus present in the sacraments ... see Jesus in the faces of those whose needs we seek to meet ... see Jesus in the pages of scripture. Clearer and clearer the picture comes. Can you see it yet? Look ... look ... and keep on looking. It will come into focus. "I see and I say." And prophets don't joke. "All humankind (even you and I) will see God's salvation." Jesus.
____________
1. Life Or Something Like It, Regency Enterprises, 2002, directed by Stephen Herek, screenplay by John Scott Shepherd and Dana Stevens.
One day television reporter Lanie Kerrigan (played by Angelina Jolie) happened by Jack's pulpit. She tossed a few coins into his coffer and in return received a disturbing message. Prophet Jack prophesied that the Seahawks would beat the Broncos 1613, that it would hail the next day, and that on Thursday Lanie would die. She dismissed Jack as outrageously loony, until he looked her straight in the eye and with utmost seriousness said, "Prophets don't joke." Lanie was a bottle blond, but she was not a dumb blond, so when Jack's first two prophecies came true, she repented of her ways and reformed her life.
Jack is not a bad imitation of the hero of our text. We meet him every year at this time in our preparations for the arrival of the Christ Child. To be honest, if it were not for the fact that the lectionary deposits us annually at his desert camp, we would probably barrel right on toward the manger without ever noticing him at all. But here he is again, a speed bump on the road to Bethlehem.
The gospel writers apparently think John is a pretty important character in this Jesus narrative. All four talk about him, while just two mention the Lord's birth. Luke is particularly insistent that we take him seriously because he goes to some lengths in noting the historical context of his ministry. But "the word of God" came neither from imperial Rome nor from Israel's religious establishment. It did not come from someone dressed in fashionable clothes who lived in an expensive palace. Nor did it come from a corporate board room, a cloistered convent, or a university laboratory. It came from this unusual character, strange, really, whether by the standards of our day or even his own. His base of operations is out in the boonies, Bethany beyond the Jordan. His attire looks like something cobbled together by a survivalist, camel's hair tunic with a leather belt around his waist. The lunch buffet consists of locusts and wild honey. His message is not particularly attractive, not "God's in his heaven and all's right with the world"; far from it. It is an apocalyptic vision and a call to change: "Repent ... now ... for the kingdom of heaven is near" (Matthew 3:2). That is it. No heartwarming stories, no three points and a poem, no pious platitudes. He just stands there, roaring his simple sermon like a lion. No microphones necessary -- you could probably hear him before you could see him. "Repent!" echoes off the desert landscape. And prophets don't joke, remember. The word, not simply of John, but the word of God.
Recall the dear old Scottish lady who referred to a young man as obviously fitted for the ministry because he was a "right harmless laddie." Say what? Don't tell John. The Bible never thinks of religion as a discussion of nice, cozy, and harmless table talks. The word, rather, is described as "living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart" (Hebrews 4:12). For John, this was a time for slicing and dicing.
Is that what you need on the way to Bethlehem? I do. And not just on the way to Bethlehem -- I need to hear it regularly. You see, regularly I find myself caught up in the busyness of the world. There is hustle and bustle out there, not just as we approach Christmas, but all year through. I major in minors and make mountains out of molehills, even though I know better. The news of the world is routinely horrible, and that is so frustrating. No, "peace on earth, goodwill to men" seems like some far-off dream. I want to lash out.
But then comes this call to repent. Before you get to the manger, repent. John is the speed bump on the road to Bethlehem. Jack, the street prophet in Seattle, says, "I see and I say ... make ready for what is coming," and he echoes those soaring words of Isaiah that Luke quotes: "Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths for him. Every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill made low. The crooked roads shall become straight, the rough ways smooth" (Luke 3:4-5). The picture is drawn from those massive engineering efforts of ancient Babylon that Israel would have seen during their exile. Straight new roads -- superhighways -- not those old roads that are content to follow the terrain. For the ancients, this was a theological statement: nothing must be allowed to impede or delay the coming of God.
What a message for us at Advent! "Let every heart prepare him room" we sing. Perhaps we would do well to say let every heart get out the bulldozers and backhoes, the rock crushers, and road graders. There are mountains that need to come down -- mountains of racism, sexism, ageism, and any other "-isms" that would block our way to healthy relationships with one another and with our Lord. There are valleys to be filled -- valleys of depression, despair, loneliness, grief, pain, any of which can keep us from the rich relationship the Savior offers and that keep us from enjoying the fellowship of the faith. There are crooked places to be made straight -- yes, there is perversity, even among those we might never imagine; fine exteriors mask rotten interiors of abuse, neglect, immorality, even violence. There are rough places to be made smooth -- rough places that have come because of oppression and injustice. There is work to do! Bring on the heavy equipment!
There is a wonderful conclusion to all the effort. As the text has it, "all mankind will see God's salvation" (Luke 3:6). Picture it. This mass of humanity is stretched out along the hillsides overlooking this wonderful wide highway. As far as the eye can see they are spread out. Men and women, boys and girls, rich and poor, young and old, slave and free. Every nation, tongue, and tribe, red, and yellow, black and white. All are anxiously gathered to watch for the arrival of the King of all kings who is the embodiment of God's salvation, God's healing, God's wholeness, God's shalom.
Can you see it? Yes, vision is hampered. The mountains are so high and the valleys so low, the crooked places are still horribly bent and the rough places resist every attempt to smooth them. Look beyond all that. Look to God's salvation ... Jeshua ... Iesus ... Jesus. See Jesus in the lives of your fellow worshipers ... see Jesus present in the sacraments ... see Jesus in the faces of those whose needs we seek to meet ... see Jesus in the pages of scripture. Clearer and clearer the picture comes. Can you see it yet? Look ... look ... and keep on looking. It will come into focus. "I see and I say." And prophets don't joke. "All humankind (even you and I) will see God's salvation." Jesus.
____________
1. Life Or Something Like It, Regency Enterprises, 2002, directed by Stephen Herek, screenplay by John Scott Shepherd and Dana Stevens.
