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One who is more powerful than I is coming.
One is coming.
There it is. This one thought is the fire behind the season that is Advent. This season of the church year is one caught up in a feeling of expectation as we wait, with bated breath, for this coming again and again. I have many favorite holidays: Christmas, Easter, and I’ll even admit that I have a strong soft spot for Cinco de Mayo, but there is no season that grabs my attention in the way that Advent does. For me, it’s the two distinct themes of Advent that fit so perfectly together. First, there is a theme of preparation, of getting ready for a big day, for a change not only in our own lives, but in the world at large. We go about this in a practical way, buying gifts, trimming the tree, hanging stockings on the mantle, but we also go about it in a spiritual way, lighting candles on a wreath, reading the stories of Christ’s birth, and gathering together to pray. The second theme of Advent is darkness, a sense that we are in that darkest part of the night, right before the dawn arrives. This fits neatly into our calendar year as the days grow shorter one after the other, as we march towards the winter solstice. In a very real we sense we are progressing into darkness, and will soon be returning to the light. These two themes are closely tied as both are focused around a change that will happen at the end of this season, both center around our expectations grounded in the one who is coming. For us, it is easy to see the importance of the birth of Jesus Christ, to recognize the change his arrival signals in our world’s history. However, what must it have been like to hear the words of today’s gospel from the lips of John the Baptist? What did they mean to those gathered around the banks of the Jordan?
One is coming.
The coming of the Messiah was a prophesied and hoped for event in the minds of Jews in the first century. In the roughly thousand years since the founding of Israel their nation had been ruled by others more than it had been ruled by themselves. The idea of a land and milk and honey had not exactly ended up the way they had imagined, but there was still the hope of the Messiah to come. This Messiah was to be a leader sent by God to shepherd his people. He would lead the Jews to once again become the mighty nation of Israel. While the exact role of this Messiah was not entirely understood many Jews hoped that he might be a military leader, to battle the Romans and finally kick them out of Israel. Let’s keep in mind that John wasn’t the only prophet talking about a coming Messiah in the first century so his message wouldn’t have seemed that out there. So we can imagine that many sitting around the edge of the river heard his call to preparation with ears full of hope and expectation. They believed that all the waiting was about to pay off. But I can’t imagine that everyone did. I often think about what is going on outside the written down story and in this case I have to imagine someone on the river bank thinking, or maybe even saying, “You’re asking me to trust God to help us out in all this. Sure, he did right by us getting us out of Egypt and helping us win fights for this country, but what help has He been recently? We’re conquered, living under Roman rules, our customs and beliefs openly mocked. And now you’re asking me to bet it all on God finally coming through on this promise of a Messiah?” And, to be honest, if it was a military victory they were expecting from their Messiah then they were undoubtedly disappointed by the life and death of Jesus of Nazareth, who ended up as just one more Jew crucified by the Romans. For them, this crucifixion might just have confirmed that He was not the Messiah at all, but for those who looked for something other than military victory, those who saw the Christ when they looked at the man named Jesus, for those people and for us the preparation and waiting was not it vain.
Because when the man known as Jesus is believed to be the Christ His coming is significant for many different reasons. We can believe that He died on the cross to cleanse of us sins, wiping the slate of human history clean and opening up for each of us the path to salvation. In his death and resurrection he opened up the doors of heaven, allowing each of us a chance of paradise. Or we can focus on the ministry he did here on Earth, on his call to create a kingdom he always claimed was near at hand, a world turned on its head, a place of peace and love and respect for other human beings. But for me, the greatest theological implication of accepting Jesus of Nazareth as the Christ is the powerful message it speaks about our relationship with God. Because, the one who is coming is not only the messiah predicted by the Hebrew texts, he is not just a leader, rather he is God incarnate, clothed in human flesh. How powerful this is, precisely because it is an act of relationship, a purposeful move by God to become closer to us. And to be honest, this action is perfectly in line with God’s character throughout the Judeo-Christian story. This, after all, is the God of our ancestors, perhaps the first ever concept of a personal God, one concerned with people individually rather than given charge over the elements or emotions. Later in the story God continues to further the relationship by entering into covenants with His people, tying us to Him and making promises based on our actions. And then, in the ultimate act of relationship, God becomes us, I believe, at least in part, to be able to better understand us, to truly know that which must be “other” to Him. God lives and dies a mortal life.
One is coming.
When viewed in this context, through the lens of the incarnation and what is says about our relationship with God, and God’s willingness to always go further, to always reach out, then Advent can become a time to remember God’s consuming love for us. This isn’t an easy task. We can all look around our world and see the brokenness of it. We see a world consumed by greed and anger, petty revenge and jealousy, driven mad with our love for war and our hatred for one another. In light of all this it is easy to fall into the same place as that cynic I imagine standing on the banks of the Jordan. I myself am tempted to say, not again, I can’t buy into all of this preparation and waiting and hope and wake up and find myself again alone in this shattered world, abandoned by the God I love. But, in this Gospel passage I find reason to hope in John’s promise of a new baptism. John baptized people with water and those who came with penitent hearts were announced washed clean of their sins and indemnities. But he promised that the one who is coming would deliver a greater baptism, one of fire and the Holy Spirit, and it is that baptism that I believe I have received. And for me, this makes the great difference, because in that Baptism I am told that I am accompanied every day by the Holy Spirit. I am no longer alone, because God is in my life, in relationship with me. Through the gift of the incarnation God offered us a new way of relationship and proclaimed that we no longer need be alone for he will always be beside us. Advent is a season of darkness, a season of preparation, but it is also a time to consider the amazing reality of what God chose to do by becoming flesh, and the new way in which that God is offering to be with us. Advent can serve as a time to once again open ourselves up to God’s presence in our lives. So, in the gathering darkness, in the cold world waiting outside these doors, let us prepare out hearts for the one who is coming.
