Malachi 3:1-4; Benedictus (Lk 1:68-79); Philippians 1:3-11; Luke 3:1-6
“The Word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness…”
I suppose important epiphanies or moments of inspiration come in different ways. For me, it’s usually while I’m brushing my teeth or taking a shower. For John the Baptist, his moment came while he was out in the wilderness, the desert, which I guess is the more biblical setting.
Long before John (1300 years earlier), Moses encountered God out in the wilderness, in a burning bush while tending his father-in-law’s flock. We can safely assume that Moses wasn’t out there simply trying to find the best grazing pastures, but instead he seemed to be searching for answers to nagging questions he had about his purpose in life.
Similarly, Elijah – the other major Old Testament prophet – facing death threats and an uncertain future, journeyed for a day into the wilderness before he encountered God (1Kings 19). He too was in a sort of existential crisis, and ultimately God spoke to him in a cave.
Like his predecessors, something important happened to John out in the wilderness, and his experience of God became a turning point in his life and ministry/mission.
However, Luke’s account of John in the Judean wilderness isn’t simply to establish his pedigree alongside the two great Old Testament prophets. He emphasizes two other important connections.
First, Luke begins the pericope with a list of rulers:
In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas… (3:1-2)
One might assume Luke included these details to establish the precise dating and geo-political context, but if that was his intent, identifying the fifteenth year of Emperor Tiberius’ reign would have sufficed. Additionally, only one high priest served at a time, so Annas and his son-in-law, Joseph Caiaphas, could not both have been the high priest that year. Instead, Luke seems to be drawing attention to the abiding influence of Annas, whose five sons, son-in-law, and perhaps even grandson all served in the office of high priest.
In other words, these are the people with political and religious power. Today it would read something like Elon Musk, President Trump, President Putin, President Biden, PM Starmer, PM Trudeau, PM Orbán, Pope Francis, Archbishop Welby. While I’m not sure how much actual power some of these people have, they at least represent it.
In contrast, Luke does not locate John the Baptist in the echelons of power, but out in the Judean desert, wearing eco-fabric clothes made from camel hair, and eating locusts and honey (see Mt 3:4; Mk 1:6). The people who lived out there were the fundamentalist Essenes, now famous for the preservation of the so-called “Dead Sea Scrolls” that were found in their caves in Qumran.
Whether John was an Essene himself is a matter a speculation – but his prophetic message shares a striking resemblance to theirs, calling people to repentance and a different way of life – a life that more fully conforms to the covenantal relationship God had called them into.
I’ve always had an affinity for John the Baptist. In fact, not only did I eat frog-legs for the first time last week – which is probably not far off from spicy locust wings – but in my early childhood our family attended a Baptist church. So there might be a bit more of John the Baptist in me than I often admit…
In any event, to adapt Richard Niebuhr’s famous matrix for the relationship between Christ and Culture, John the Baptist was clearly against the culture of the time, particularly those who held positions of power within it.
This leads to the second parallel Luke draws, by casting John not simply as an important prophet, but as, himself, a fulfilment of various prophecies. Especially:
The prophecy of Malachi that served as our first reading today – describing the messenger (or angel) that God would send to prepare the way for the coming Messiah. Someone who would be like a refiner’s fire and fullers’ soap – btw, not a brand of soap, but a special chemical used in the purification of gold/silver
His own father, Zechariah’s prophetic song – the Benedictus – that draws from numerous prophets (especially Isaiah) and Psalms, where John is the one whose voice calls out in the wilderness, going before the Lord to prepare his way and give his people knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of all their sins
In this short passage, Luke sets the stage for everything that is about to follow.
When Isaiah describes mountains and hills being made low, and valleys being filled up, it is not because God is a great lover of plains and prairies. Instead, the same idea sits behinds the other great (prophetic) song in the first chapter of Luke, the Magnificat or “The Song of Mary”. Through his promised Messiah, God will scatter the proud in their conceit, cast down the mighty from their thrones, and lift up the lowly. It is a picture of justice being established, not the demise of downhill skiing.
Centuries had passed and Israel was under oppressive Roman occupation, so the question loomed in the air: was God’s promise to send his Messiah – a deliverer who would restore justice and establish a lasting shalom – simply the stuff of storybooks and wishful thinking? I suppose a similar question hangs over our heads today. Jesus promised to return “soon” to set the world to rights, but it’s been a minute…
Then, like now, it was easy to get caught up with work and family and friends; trying to make ends meet, stay healthy, and enjoy the simple pleasures of life – things, that in and of themself, can even be good, but can also be distracting from doing those other things God has perhaps called us to do.
Additionally, there were unending temptations to do things that their faith and conscience would otherwise disallow. And repeated compromises or failures undoubtedly led to the same guilt and frustration that we experience from time to time.
John the Baptist was sent to remind the people that the Day of the Lord was indeed coming. As we engage this season of Advent – looking forward to Christ’s second coming – John’s invitation to repent, to turn from those things which we know hinder our relationship with God as well as our ability to more fully love our neighbour, is a voice which continues to call out to us from the wilderness.
It is the call from a loving Father to return home. “In the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace” (Lk 1:78-79).
This Advent, as we turn our hearts and feet towards Christ, is there anything he is inviting you to turn away from and leave behind? Perhaps you’ve been hurt by someone and are holding onto the grudge instead of choosing to forgive them. Or maybe you’ve invested too much time on social media. Or maybe you simply need to go out into the wilderness. Whatever it is, the amazing thing about repentance is that in God’s tender compassion, unlike us, he is quick to forgive.
Amen.
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