Sermon preached by The Reverend Dr. Harold T. Lewis

SERMON PREACHED BY THE REVEREND DR. HAROLD T. LEWIS, RECTOR CALVARY EPISCOPAL CHURCH, PITTSBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA ON THE SECOND SUNDAY OF ADVENT 10 DECEMBER 2006



"The word of God came to John, son of Zechariah, in the wilderness." Lk: 3:3


Who are all these people and what are they doing in today's Gospel lesson? To answer the first question, let me give you a brief biographical sketch of the cast of characters. Luke starts with the large picture and telescopes his way to the smaller. Tiberius, the second man to rule over the vast Roman Empire, was the stepson of Emperor Augustus, (who, as you will remember, imposed a tax on the whole Empire which prompted Mary and Joseph to go to Bethlehem). Tiberius, by the way, would later marry his half-sister, Augustus' daughter of another marriage, thereby keeping it all in the family! Although a great general, he was known as the "gloomiest of men," (tristissimus hominum). Pontius Pilate, our old friend, familiar to us because he has been immortalized in the Creeds, was a power-hungry governor hell-bent on pleasing Tiberius and willing to sacrifice his principles to save his own hide. The Herod mentioned here by Luke is not the bad guy, Herod the Great, who sought to kill the baby Jesus, and ended up slaying the Holy Innocents, but his son, a petty ruler who was every bit as despotic as his daddy. He and his brother Philip and Lysanias had carved up the vast territory ruled over by the elder Herod, and each had jurisdiction over a fourth of the territory --- that is what a tetrarch (from the Greek word for the number "four") is ---you were dying to know! Finally we have the religious guys with lots of political clout --- Annas and Caiaphas, the high priests, with whom we become familiar later on, in the story of Jesus' Passion. Caiaphas, as you remember, ruled over the counsel that condemned Jesus to death. Annas, Caiaphas' father-in-law, (nepotism is nothing new, as we can see) was really the high priest emeritus, but was still beloved of the people. Against this impressive backdrop, Luke tells us "The word of God came to John, son of Zechariah, in the wilderness."

Now, what are all these guys doing in the story? We could say that Luke was going to great pains to pinpoint the dates of the ministry of John the Baptist. It was not uncommon in those days to put events in historical context --- the call of Isaiah ----"in the year that King Uzziah died" being a notable example. But I don't think this was Luke's primary purpose. What he wanted to demonstrate to us is a contrast --- a contrast between power and powerlessness. Emperors and governors and tetrarchs and high priests versus a lowly prophet. People who live in palaces versus a man with no known address, a man who came out of the wilderness. If there is one thing that becomes clearer and clearer to me after years of reading the Bible, it is the difference between us and God. We would probably have given John the Baptist better clothes, better food, and a decent place to live, thinking that he would thereby have more credibility. But God, who "puts down the mighty from their seat, and exalts the humble and meek," insists on raising up prophets and saviors from the dregs of society.

So far, so good. But this morning, I would like us to think for a minute on the message that that prophet brought. Luke tells us that John the Baptist preached a baptism of repentance. Now repentance is not a word that falls easily from our lips. In fact, if we are honest, we would have to admit that the first thing that comes to our mind when we hear the word is some fanatic on the corner, probably ill-kempt like John the Baptist, with a placard that proclaims, "Repent, the Kingdom of God is at hand." We associate repentance somehow with fundamentalism, a concept, perhaps, beneath our theological dignity.

Repentance is not simply saying you're sorry or admitting that you were wrong. The Greek word metanoia means turning around, making a 180-degree turn, having a change of heart. Repentance presupposes amendment of life. This is why we ask the Baptismal candidate, "Do you TURN to Jesus Christ and accept him as your Savior?" It is a decision, as is rightly expressed in that old evangelical hymn, "I've decided to make Jesus my choice."

Why is repentance so unpopular? I think there is a resistance to the idea of repentance ingrained in our culture. When last did you hear a politician say "I messed up" or "I blew it."? And when people do say they are sorry, listen to the way they phrase the apology. They don't say, "I am sorry that I hurt you". No, they say, "I am sorry that you found my remarks offensive." By saying that, they're blaming the victim. People, for instance, do not feel that they have made a racist or sexist remark. They say instead that the black or Hispanic or Asian person or the woman in question is "too sensitive" or worse, "has no sense of humor." Consider the so-called apology that fell from the lips of the Holy Father. The Pope's remarks made in Germany that were highly offensive to Muslims round the world. At first there was no apology at all. Then finally, under pressure, the Vatican issued a statement saying that His Holiness regretted that some Muslims found his remarks offensive. In other words, "There was nothing wrong with what I said; the real problem is that people just misunderstood or misinterpreted what I said."

There is another tactic that is all too prevalent in our society. I call it the Flip Wilson approach. The late comedian, it will be remembered, was famous for his comment, "The devil made me do it." When scandal finally caught up with a congressman recently, his subsequent actions were designed to make us believe that first, alcoholism made him do it, and that secondly a childhood predator made him do it.

Then there is the taking-liberties-with-the-truth approach: The bipartisan Iraq Study Group came out with some pretty unambiguous findings about the war that has cost America untold billions of dollars and the lives of thousands of its youngest and most promising citizens who have been killed or maimed. The panel's use of the words "grave and deteriorating" leaves little to the imagination. The Commander-in-Chief, however, would admit no culpability whatsoever, but came up with two remarkable statements which bring spin to an all-time new level. "I thought we would succeed quicker than we did" and "I am disappointed by the pace of success." ---- which being interpreted means "We have done nothing wrong. We will be ultimately victorious, but it's just taking a little longer than we had anticipated."

If you want a description of repentance, we need look no further than the incomparable phrases of the Prayer Book confession penned by Archbishop Cranmer: . It places the blame where it belongs, and admits to no other remedy than the forgiveness of God. We have erred, and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep. We have followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts. We have offended against thy holy laws. We have left undone those things which we ought to have done. And we have done those things which we ought not to have done.

And then those self-accusing, humbling words which the revisers of the Prayer Book have seen fit to leave out. (Not surprising, since it is said that the difference between a terrorist and a liturgist is that you can negotiate with a terrorist!) And there is no health in us. But thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us, miserable offenders (another phrase conveniently excised) Spare thou those who are penitent.

John the Baptist preached repentance from the wilderness. The word in Greek is eremos, which gives us the word hermit. It doesn't just mean a desert, or a deserted place. It is a place of absolutely desolation and loneliness. We have all been there. We come from our wildernesses of unpredictability and uncertainty that make us more vulnerable. We come from our wildernesses of hurt and pain which push us further away from God. We come from our wildernesses of crisis that affect our capacity to reason, and cast us into confusion. And like Jesus himself, we come from our wildernesses of temptation, where we are torn, where we must decide, as the hymn (unfortunately, no longer in the Hymnal, reminds us, "In the strife of truth with falsehood, for the good or evil side." ["Once to every man and nation," The Hymnal 1940, 519.]

Maybe we are not penitent because we believe we have no wilderness experiences, or don't recognize them when they come. Maybe we're into denial. Repentance happens when we come to believe that things can change, so that we can change. As a great preacher once said, "John's message is 'God is coming, so change,' not 'Change, so God will come.'" Or maybe we don't repent because although all too familiar with our shortcomings --- our destructive behavior, harmful habits, even enslaving addictions, we may just lack the courage and the strength to make necessary changes.

Maybe we are not penitent because when we read Luke's Gospel, we, privileged and well-fed, identify with the power-brokers ---- the emperors and governors and tetrarchs, and not with the prophet, the voice of one crying in the wilderness.

If the very word "repentance" scares us away, try "change of heart" or "behavioral modification" or "attitudinal adjustment" or "paradigm shift." And maybe the word of God that came to John son of Zechariah will come to you as well.

Let us pray: Hark, the voice of one that crieth In the desert far and near Calling us to new repentance Since the kingdom now is hear Oh, that warning cry obey! Now prepare for God a way Let the valleys rise to meet him And the hills bow down to greet him. ["Comfort, comfort ye my people," The Hymnal 1982, 67.]