Advent Lutheran Church

"God Out of the Box (Advent 3)"

            Grace and peace to you from God the Creator and the Lord Jesus.  Amen.

            In the middle of the morning rush hour on a chilly Friday in mid-winter, a middle-aged man walked into the entrance of the busiest subway station in Washington, D.C.   He made his way over to a corner of the entryway, took off his overcoat, opened the small instrument case he was carrying, and took out a violin.  He dropped a couple of dollars into the empty case to give people the idea, then straightened up and began to play.

            Street performers and street musicians are common in most any major American city these days, and in many respects this man looked like just one more.  He wore a long-sleeve T-shirt, a Washington Nationals ball cap, and blue jeans.  However, he was anything but another run-of-the-mill street musician: He was Joshua Bell, widely regarded as one of the most, if not the most, gifted classical violinists in the world.  For the next 43 minutes Bell played six of the world’s most beloved and moving pieces of classical music.  Just three days before, Bell had filled Boston’s Symphony Hall with people who had paid a minimum of $100 a seat to hear him perform those same works.

            Bell had been curious to know about people’s perception, if people would recognize beautiful music if they heard it in a place they didn’t expect to encounter it.  He enlisted the Washington Post in the project, and they recorded the reactions of the people as they entered that subway station.  Here’s what they found: In the 43 minutes that Bell played, 1,097 people flowed through that entryway.  Only a handful even slowed down long enough to listen briefly to Bell before moving on.  A few tossed in some spare change or a dollar bill or two.  For the vast majority of people that morning, it was just another busy commute on the metro.

How much do your expectations and assumptions determine in advance what you will experience?  That’s the underlying question that John the Baptist was dealing with; only his question had to do not with music but with God.

“Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”  In one sense, John’s question was perfectly understandable.  John was a prophet, and the job of a prophet is to speak God’s truth in the world.  Often, in the case of a power structure that is abusive and irresponsible, that word comes across as a word of judgment.  John had recently spoken that word of judgment against King Herod.  John told the king that he was guilty of adultery – the king had married his brother’s wife, only he’d done it while his brother was still alive – and God’s word clearly condemned the action.  As often happens when a prophet speaks an unpopular word to the powerful, the king threw John in prison.  So while John and Jesus knew each other and had talked when John baptized Jesus in the river Jordan, now they were separated, couldn’t see each other.  So with that in mind, the question makes sense: “Are you the one?”

But there might be a deeper reason for the question.  When John first came on the scene, he emerged from the desert wilderness looking for all the world like an ancient prophet right out of the Old Testament.  His clothing was downright weird – a bunch of animal skins; his diet was meager – he existed on honey and bugs; his message was as stark as his appearance – “Repent!  Change your life!  The wrath of God is coming, and it’s coming for you!  Bear fruit that’s proof of a changed life, or face the fire of condemnation!  When the Messiah comes and gets to work, that’s how we’ll know he’s for real.”  That’s the image of the Messiah that John believed, and that’s the image of the Messiah that John proclaimed.

All of that is background for the question, “Are you the one?”  Because what John had been hearing about Jesus didn’t square with his belief about how the Messiah would act.  Jesus acknowledges that disconnect when he says, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.”  That’s a far cry from hellfire and brimstone, which is why Jesus follows it up with, “And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me,” who is not offended by who I really am instead of who they think I should be.

Jesus doesn’t condemn John the Baptist, doesn’t say that he’s a false prophet or that he’s been misleading people.  John had it partly right.  There is an awesomeness to God, a fearfulness about God that we must acknowledge and respect; as we heard in our Second Lesson this morning, God is indeed our judge.  But that is only a partial picture of God’s nature; for John the Baptist the full reality of the Messiah far exceeded the box that John expected that he belonged in.  But God will be active wherever, whenever and however God chooses, which means that God’s activity often comes as a surprise.

This past year a number of high school and college students in our country took their own lives because they had been relentlessly bullied and brutalized because they were gay or lesbian.  That rash of suicides led to something called the “It Gets Better” project, in which Broadway and Hollywood celebrities, political leaders and business leaders recorded videos and posted them on You Tube.  These noted figures wanted to encourage young people who are gay or lesbian or bisexual or transgender, to reassure them that the harassment and intimidation and bullying that they had experienced would not last forever, that they could indeed experience a future that was fulfilling and loving and hopeful if they could just make it through the teenage years.  “It gets better,” they promised.

As of last week, 5,000 videos had been posted in the “It Gets Better” project, video contributions of encouragement from people from all walks of life.  Only one was by the leader of a religious denomination.  Our own presiding bishop, Mark Hanson, of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America posted a video in which he spoke directly to young people who are closed in, often pushed away from family and friends, brutalized physically and psychologically because of a core truth about themselves.  This is what he told them: “You are a beloved child of God.  Your life carries the dignity and beauty of God’s creation.  God has called you by name and claimed you forever.  There is a place for you in this world and in this Church.”

Life-giving words by a prophet, and especially so when heard in a context in which they’re unexpected but desperately needed.  The response to Hanson’s video has been overwhelmingly positive, and what’s remarkable about that feedback is the fact that many of the respondents indicated surprise that a religious leader would speak out publicly on an issue like this.  But God has a habit of surprising us.  God steps out of whatever box that our assumptions and expectations try to put him in; he simply won’t stay put.

We expect to have some sort of experience of God here in church, whether in Holy Communion as we take the body and blood of Christ into ourselves, in a hymn or a sermon or in the fellowship of other Christians.  God is here, and we are here; God is active here, and we are active here.  But if we can believe that God will be active wherever he chooses, including out there in the world, and that God will probably be active in some ways that are surprising to us, that radically expands the possibilities of our own Christian activism.

Last Sunday I had the honor of participating in an ordination in South Carolina.  Some of you might remember David Ludwick, our pastoral intern from a couple of years ago.  David finished his internship here at Advent, went on to complete his senior year at Gettysburg seminary, and was approved for call to a parish.  He recently was, in fact, called to a small church just north of Columbia, South Carolina, and his ordination was scheduled for last Sunday.  He called and asked if I would preach at his ordination, and I was very pleased to do so.

It was a wonderful day.  The bishop was there, many clergy from the South Carolina Synod attended to encourage and support David, most of the congregation turned out for the occasion – it’s a small church, only about 45 members – so David felt well cared for and all fired up to start his ministry.  After the ordination there was a reception in their multipurpose room, and I got a chance to meet just about all of the congregation.  As with any congregation of any size, there were a good number of people who were excited to get started with a new pastor, inspired by new possibilities for ministry inside the church and out in the community. 

And, as is true in any congregation, there were other folks who were content to simply sit on the sidelines and observe, just watch.  I met a couple of those people too.  I walked over to introduce myself to a couple sitting along the back wall, alone.  The gentleman stood up and said, “Well, we’re expecting great things from David.  Maybe he can turn this place around, put us on the map.”

I said, “Well, I’m glad to know that you’re excited about David, because I think he’s going to put you to work!”  He didn’t say anything, but the expression on his face told me that this was a new concept for him.  It was like, “You mean, we’re going to have to actually do something?  Out there?”  He clearly didn’t agree.  But that was all right; I was leaving in two hours, didn’t matter to me if he agreed or not.  But he obviously had some expectations about his own non-role as a Christian in the world.

The season of Advent is a season to let go of our expectations, to let God be God and for us to discover, at God’s leading, just what that means.  We all have our expectations and assumptions about God.  Some people expect a fire and brimstone savior who will scare people into heaven.  Some people expect a political savior who, surprisingly enough, always seems to agree with that person’s political position.  Some people go to the other extreme and expect a Good Shepherd savior who will ask nothing of them, expect nothing of them, demand nothing from them but will only reassure them of God’s love for them.  None of those images of God is completely wrong, but all are incomplete.  Sooner or later, our expectations and assumptions run into Biblical reality, and we’re invited to see what God is actually doing in Scripture and in the world.

Listen again to what Jesus tells the messengers of John the Baptist, and this time hear these words for yourself.  Because Christ is coming, and he’s coming to change things.  He’s coming to change people.  He’s coming for you.  If you are broken, whether in body or mind or spirit, Jesus is coming to mend you.  If you are in despair, Jesus is coming to give you hope.  If you have simply given up, Jesus is coming to revive you.

Is this the one?  Is he for real?  Oh, yes!  He comes as the ultimate surprise, for you and for me.  Amen.