John 1:6-8, 19-28
Advent 3
December 17, 2023
William G. Carter
There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a
witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He
himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.
This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, “Who are you?” He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, “I am not the Messiah.” And they asked him, “What then? Are you Elijah?” He said, “I am not.” “Are you the prophet?” He answered, “No.” 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,’” as the prophet Isaiah said. Now they had been sent from the Pharisees. They asked him, “Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?” John answered them, “I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.” This took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was baptizing.
One of my favorite holiday greeting cards features a photograph of a burly character dressed in ragged clothing. His unruly hair is out to here. His countenance is fierce. There is a snarl on his face. Beneath is the caption in bold letters: Happy Advent, You Brood of Vipers.
It is John the Baptist, of course. He is a recurring figure in our December preparations for Christmas. While we plan to burn the yule log, he declares, “The fire is coming for us all.” If we sing “Deck the Halls” as we put of the Christmas tree, John shouts, “Already there is an axe at the root of that tree.” And if we have spent considerable time developing a wish list, we hear John say, “Whoever has two coats must share with the person who has none.”
John bears the mantle of moral advisor and religious truth teller. And he comes back every year. Church folks who want a holly, jolly Christmas have generally learned to avoid him. Those who don’t go to church anymore don’t miss him. If the general public knows anything about John, they dismiss him as a precursor of Ebenezer Scrooge. He shows up one Sunday morning a year, maybe two. For a lot of people, that is just enough.
Yet the Bible is fascinated with John the Baptist. The Gospels tell us he showed up in the wilderness, the symbolic place where Israel had been tested. John spoke of hope and dressed in memory. The dominion of God is coming, contrary to the cruelty of the Roman empire. That was the hope. He wore animal skins and lived on the periphery, just like the ancient seers. That was the memory. And in John, two grand traditions of Jewish faith were united. His father was a priest, and he was a prophet. He was both the insider and the outsider, rolled into one.
And the crowds went to see him. All the accounts agree on that. People left bread in the oven, shops unattended, to go and see the spectacle. They left their villages. They left their cities. As we heard this morning, they even left their temple. We know it had to be a big deal because priests and Levites, who made their living within organized religion, went out to the river to see what was going on. They went to John and said, “Who are you?” Who indeed.
The first century historian Josephus confirms all of this. Writing around 95 AD, he said the memories about John the Baptist were strong. “John was a pious man,” he writes, “bidding the Jews to practice virtue and exercise righteousness toward each other and piety toward God.” He wrote this sixty-years after John’s death.
And if you remember the story of John’s brutal death, how Herod Agrippa had him beheaded after he had been called out for his sins, you will understand the popular tradition that arose after his demise. As Josephus wrote, “The Jews believe that the destruction that overtook (Herod’s) army came as a punishment for Herod, God wishing to do him harm.”[1] Herod assassinated John; God demolished Herod’s army. That was the well-told rationale sixty-five years later.
John was a significant figure. So much so that Jesus once said, “Truly I tell you, among those born of women, no one has arisen greater that John the Baptist.”[2] He was a big deal, a hero, a first-century celebrity. No one like him.
So, the Temple establishment in Jerusalem sent out an investigative team to ask, “Who are you?” Well, he’s John. “Yes, but who are you? What’s your deal?” And he said, “I’m not the Messiah.” If you think he is the Messiah, it’s not him.
They asked again, “Who are you? Are you Elijah?” That was a loaded question, too. Elijah was the greatest of Israel’s prophets. He never died. He was swept up into heaven by a chariot of fire. The last book of the Jewish scriptures, the sermons of the prophet Malachi, suggested Elijah would come again before the great and terrible day of the Lord. “Are you Elijah?” they asked. John replied, “I am not.”
So, they tried again. “Who are you? Are you the prophet?” Which prophet? Know what they were referring to? Well, in the final speeches of Moses, in the 18th chapter of Deuteronomy, Moses predicted the coming of a great prophet. He or she will speak with the power and authority of the Lord. They said, “Are you that prophet?” John said, “No way. Not me. You have the wrong guy.”
Well then, who are you? To which John replied, “I am a Bible verse.” Say what? “Yes, Isaiah, chapter 40, verse 3. I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, make straight the way of the Lord. That’s me. Get rid of the speed bumps. Fill in the potholes. Make the road smooth so that God can get to you. I am not the Word; I am simply a voice. Not the voice, but a voice.” And they still do not understand. He is not Messiah, Elijah, or the great unnamed prophet. He is only a mouth, attached to a guy who splashes a lot of water.
It is worth asking why the Gospel of John tells the story this way. This is one of John the Baptist’s big scenes in the Fourth Gospel and then he is dismissed. And from what we can tell, this was a necessary distinction that the Gospel writer believed that he had to make. John the Baptist is not the One we are waiting for.
Did you know that over twenty years after this episode, long after Jesus went into heaven, the apostle Paul went to the big city of Ephesus. A major city of the Empire. And when he arrived, he found some believers who worshiped the work of John the Baptist. They were imitating his message, declaring “The Messiah is coming; repent and be baptized.”
The apostle Paul said, “Whoa, Nelly! Hang on. Why are you saying the Messiah is coming?” They said, “We follow John, and John said the Messiah is coming.” To which Paul said, “Got news for you. He is already here.”[3] He is? Is the Messiah already here? This is a matter of some dispute.
Did you know there is still a small sect of believers called the Mandeans? There are about a hundred thousand of the Mandeans around the world, many in the fertile crescent living in Iraq and Iran. They believe John the Baptist was the final and ultimate prophet of God, and that all life is divided between light and darkness. John points to the light, they believe, and they undergo repeated baptisms to purge their sin and prepare for the Messiah.
It could be the gospel of John knew about groups like these. So, he makes the distinction and puts the message on John’s lips: “I’m not the one. I’m not the Messiah. I’m merely the voice.” We can be sympathetic, I think, because there is always enough misery in the world to tempt us to believe the Messiah has not come. Read the news, see the horrors and the distortions every day, and faith has real challenges.
Yet listen to what John the Baptist also testifies: “Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.” That is, the One we await is already here. We do not see him, not clearly, not yet. We know him, but we don’t always know him. And this is one of the grand messages of the Gospel of John: Jesus, the life-giving Word of God, has come into the world.
He came to his own, and they did not see him. A few did, but not everybody. And one person at a time began to perceive the truth. He is here, he knows me, he knows what I have done and what I have said. He knows my struggles, because in coming to us, he has taken on the struggles and limits of being human like us. And wherever he goes, whenever he speaks, life happens in surprising ways.
Those with damaged legs begin to dance. Those with confused minds can understand. Those who feel abandoned are accompanied. Those who die enter into life. Those who are hungry are fed. Those who have lost everything are found. Light and life to all he brings. That is the truth that confirms that the One we await is already among us.
So, the message of John the Baptist is simply this: keep looking, keep listening, keep scanning for the Life of the One we cannot completely see. For he is here. Like John, we testify to what we see and hear.
A couple of weeks ago, I had a conversation with two young friends on a Saturday morning. It was the day we had a team here to decorate the sanctuary. Someone discovered a few creche scenes in the attic, and I decided we would put one of them in the entryway, by the door from the street.
It took some doing. Who knows how long that creche had been in the attic? It was covered with dirt and dust, but it is a barn after all. I called over my two young helpers, thinking this was an opportunity to retell the Christmas story as we put the figures in place. One figure at a time, they helped me place Mary and Joseph, the shepherds, and the wise man, then all the friendly beasts. If you take a moment to look at it next time you pass, take note that everybody, even the camel, is looking at the baby Jesus.
Normally hidden from us, blending in for over thirty years, not looking like anything more than a wood cutter’s son. Yet he is in the center of it all. He invites our attention. Even if we cannot see him, we can keep looking for him. And sometimes, a star will blink, a soul will be mended, a hungry stomach will be filled, a hope will be renewed.
That’s when John the Baptist gets it right. For
he says, “It’s not about me. It’s all about him.” And it is.
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