On becoming a star--It's in your job description--Just ask John the Baptist

 

Advent 2023

 

“A man named John was sent from God.
He came for testimony, to testify to the light,
so that all might believe through him. 
He was not the light, but came to testify to the light.”
–John 1: 6-8

 

 

Sitting on my front porch, reading the Gospel of John, I was struck by this familiar verse. I heard something new this morning hat I had not heard before: a job description!  This is John the Baptist’s job description.  His job was to testify to the light.  To tell the world what he knew to be true, so that all might believe. Very simple, very straightforward; no complex language about quotas or expectations, no official title, no qualifications, no list of duties—and no terms of severance.  Just the simple and straightforward, open-ended call to testify to the light, with the goal that “all” might believe.

 

Basically John’s job was to be a Burma-Shave sign (a Buc-ees sign for you youngsters out there). He was called to be a road sign pointing the way to The Light. That’s it.  And it occurred to me that his job description doesn’t just apply to John the Baptist.  Doesn’t it actually apply to all of us? Isn’t that the job description of every Christian? We are all called to be a testimony to the Light—to the love of God, to the saving grace of Christ. How we do it isn’t described, isn’t spelled out. Some people may do it through words, others through fasting and prayers, and still others through lives of sacrifice and service.  But the plain truth is we are all called to testify to the light—to live as a sign for others, that they might believe.

 

For most of us, our testimony may go unseen by the vast majority of the world around us.  Our testimony is one of patience and kindness to a stranger: standing in line at the pharmacy, we smile and speak a gentle word to the young mother struggling with her fussing child, or we speak a word of encouragement and cheer to the UPS delivery guy putting packages at our door. Maybe your testimony is to get up at 3 in the morning and walk with a crying baby so that your spouse can sleep. Maybe your testimony is not just to give a $20 bill to the homeless person asking for money, but to also ask his or her name, and to give them your name. Maybe even shake hands and let them know that you will pray for them.  Let them know they are seen, they matter.  

 

For so many of us, our testimony will never make it into a book or even be remembered much beyond the moment, but it will be a testimony, and it will plant a seed, and it may be that when we are all gathered together into that Light, into the Kingdom we call Heaven—you will be greeted by someone you don’t remember, but they will remember you, and that one little act of kindness that lit a spark in their soul... that testimony of love.

 

There is one more thing this little passage reminds me of, especially at Christmas time. And that is a certain star. We see it on so many Christmas cards, but do we ever ponder what it means? It is shining there, above a stable, above a manger, showing us the way.  For the wise-men, that star was a kind of testimony, a road sign, guiding them on their journey.  But even with all its splendor and glory, it wasn’t the actual goal, it was just a sign—a flashing neon testimony to something far greater: a homeless, cold, and exhausted child sleeping in a manger. As we unwrap presents and prepare our holiday tables, let us remember that; the true gift of Christmas is God come to us in the form of a helpless child. Remembering that, pondering it, living it... it will give your life a radiance that will shine for others. It may not get you mentioned at the next Academy Awards or Music Awards, but it can definitely make you a star.  Just ask John the Baptist.

Making a straight path for Christmas --Some thoughts on Matthew 3:1-9

“Make straight his paths…” Matthew 3:3

 

One of my Advent dreams this year was to be more reflective, spend some time each day in prayer: read the Advent readings from the missal and maybe write a few reflections about them.  But here it is the third Sunday and I have yet to begin.  Instead, I feel like an arctic explorer, forging my way through—just hoping to reach Christmas in one piece.  Along with that, there’ve been leaky pipes, torn out walls, and a couple of big plastic tarps in the kitchen as part of our holiday decoration theme this year.

 

But, it is never too late to make like Fred and Ginger, to pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again.  So, this morning, with a little time on my hand, waiting for the sheet-rock guy to come, I am going to reflect on last Sunday’s Gospel reading: Matthew 3:1-9.

It begins:

 

“John the Baptist appeared, preaching in the desert of Judea
and saying, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!"
It was of him that the prophet Isaiah had spoken when he said:
A voice of one crying out in the desert,
Prepare the way of the Lord,
make straight his paths.
John wore clothing made of camel's hair
and had a leather belt around his waist.
His food was locusts and wild honey.”

 

And like always, my first thought is of those locusts.  How did he eat them?  Did he cook them? Raw? Live…?  And what about all that honey? Didn’t it get in his beard, his hair? Think about it… Sticky fingers, camel hair, and all that desert sand?  Just the hygiene issues overwhelm me. 

 

But then I looked back at the reading and found myself caught by those simple directions. “Make straight his paths…” And immediately I thought, Yes!  That’s what I need to do. I need to make a straight path.  That could be my Advent practice.  I need to put God first, focus my attention and start… Wait, a minute.

Suddenly I noticed how quiet the house was and looked at the clock.  It was barely 5am... You know what? Now would be a great time to throw together a batch of molasses spice walnut muffins. In fact, I could contemplate the Gospel while mixing them up and once they’re in the oven, I’ll be ready to start writing.  Perfect. I have a plan!  But plane are not my strong suit.

 

As soon as the muffins were in the oven (and that is not a euphemism), I realized: if I don’t clean up my dishes, the cats will get into them, maybe break something. So, instead of writing, I picked up my bowl and measuring cups, and figured I could contemplate a little longer while washing dishes. No problem. I’m still on track. But, wait. The sink already has dishes in it.  No problem, I can wash those too. More time to contemplate and then --writing!  But before I can run a sink full of water, I’m going to need to clear out these dishes and scrub the sink! And so, I get out the Barkeeper’s Friend and a sponge and start scrubbing the sink—which could be a euphemism—but isn’t this time.  Anyway, there I was scrubbing the sink, trying to ponder what Isaiah and John meant when they said: Make a straight path.  Was it just to make travel easier? Whose travel. The Lord’s… But the Lord doesn’t need a straight path. Right? He’s God… So, who are we straightening the path for? And again I thought: I could write about that! But just then, a cat started crying in the hallway.  He’s going to wake everyone and then my quiet time will be gone! I hurry down the hallway and find a cat standing in the bathtub. Waiting for me to turn on the water, so he can lap the drips falling from the spout. I do it, and make a straight path right back to my pen and notebook, but by now my coffee is cold. And the oven timer is going off. I get the muffins out and set them on a rack to cool, but then another cat starts fussing. She wants food.  I reach for a can, and another cat wanders up.  If I don’t feed them, they will jump up on the counter and start messing with my muffins (again, not a euphemism).  And suddenly I realized: I am living a kind of parable. And this straight path advice suddenly feels very personal.  And I know—I am terrible at this kind of thing. But I am going to try. I am going to recommit myself (again—not a euphemism) and make the time, make the effort, straighten out the pathway—clear away the obstacles and the distractions—so I can be more fully present to the Love that is always there waiting for me in God’s word.The straight path isn't for God, it is to God.  I need to get my priorities set straight. That is what I need this Advent... I need to make straight the path of my priorities, so I can know what I truly value.  Clearly, when I want some muffins, I make a straight path to the kitchen, and when I want the cats to settle down, I make a straight path to the cat-food bowls... Let me at least treat my relationship with God with the same commitment, the same intentionality, the same desire and desperation as I do a yowling cat!  And maybe that is a euphemism, of  sort.