
Are We a Voice Crying in the Wilderness?
Advent is about waiting. We are learning to be patient. We are learning the difference between being nice and being in God’s love.
Advent is about waiting. We are learning to be patient. We are learning the difference between being nice and being in God’s love.
As Christians we are often tempted to minimize our own and one another’s violence. Everything from derogatory comments made about women to outright physical abuse are made light of and excused because we want to think the best of one another, confusing denial with love.
It is the ‘Blessed is…takes no offense’ structure of the verse that perplexes me. I am blessed if I take no offense in what Jesus says and does?
Although John clearly gave them an earful, he doesn’t say “I’m not going to baptize you.”
The thing it reminds me of in our time is there always seems to be someone looking for somebody’s head on a platter, figuratively if not literally.
Here is the Lamb of God. In this Holy Lent, let’s set all else aside and hang out on the banks of the Jordan with him.
When John the Baptist shouts, “Repent!”, he is admonishing us to turn away from the ways of the world, and to turn instead to the practice of love – love of God and love of our neighbor.
…towards the end of his life he began to have doubts about who Jesus was and whether or not there was a coming kingdom. He was in prison, after all. The old authorities were still cruelly in place. In the darkness of prison, John was suddenly not so sure about Jesus.
Like a slithering viper tucked away in a crevice, this sort of mental credentialing is dangerous precisely because we can’t see it. The crowd gathered around John in today’s reading was different in many ways, but John addressed them all equally in their need to reform their lives.
God wants the chaff too. Everything you do, all that you experience, every tear, and crushed dream, each droll moment is important in one way or another. Let’s not be limited by the merely comprehensible. There are forces at play which we don’t understand, but of which we are somehow — blessedly — a part.