Like Sand Through an Hourglass

On the third Sunday in Advent, it is traditional to preach about John the Baptist, the one who calls us to prepare for the Messiah's coming. In this sermon, the structure of the first 6 verses of chapter 3 in Luke is a clue to the author's strategy as he moves us from our human kingdoms into the Kingdom of God. If you choose to read it, read the passage first (Luke 3:1-17) and see if you agree with my analysis.

 



The walls of my office at home are lined with bookshelves. (That will come as no surprise to those of you who know me well!) Sharing space there along with my books are a few items that have special meaning for me. Some are gifts that family and friends have given to me: a handmade rosary, for example, and a baseball signed by pitcher Jamie Moyer. Others are mementoes that I have picked up from my travels: a stone from Israel, and a hand-painted box from Russia. And some are little gadgets that I tinker with when I want to unlock my right brain and get creative. One of those gadgets is an hourglass. Actually, it’s not really an hourglass – it’s really more of a “few minutes glass.” But, just like an hourglass, it’s filled with sand that sits neatly at the bottom until the glass is turned upside down. Then the sand rushes to get back to the bottom like travelers emptying out of an airplane.

I wonder sometimes what it must be like to be a grain of sand in that hourglass. One minute, your world is wide open and expansive; and the next, you’re plummeting down through a tunnel that becomes narrower and narrower, until at last you’re in the very center of the bottleneck. But after less than a second, you’re through the center and into a world that widens into another expanse. You’ve gone from open space to open space through a bottleneck in less time than it took me to describe the trip.

Reading the first verses from the third chapter of Luke gives me the same feeling. The structure of this little introduction to John the Baptist is something like an hourglass itself. It starts with the vastness of the whole Roman Empire under the jurisdiction of its emperor Tiberius Caesar. Then it moves to the slice of the Middle East that we now call Israel, and we meet the governing powers there: Pontius Pilate, Herod, Philip, and Lysanias. Next, it narrows to Jerusalem with the high priests Annas and Caiaphas. Finally, it focuses on a single person: John, the son of Zechariah. From a view of the whole Roman Empire, Luke has narrowed our vision to one man in the wilderness.

But as just quickly as it narrows, the scene widens again. John goes “into all the region around the Jordan” to preach the message that the Lord is on the way, and we should get ready for his arrival! Our perspective expands to include the roads that God will use, the mountains that will be leveled for its construction, and the crooked ways that will be made straight. Finally, “all flesh” is included. Everyone will see the salvation of the God who is even now someplace on that highway.  Do you see why this text reminds me of an hourglass? In just six verses, Luke has moved us from the entire Roman Empire down to a single man, and then expanded out again until all the people on earth have been included.

The movement in this text from Luke is like an hourglass in another way, too. Just like the falling sand that moves from the top to the bottom of an hourglass, Luke moves us from one way of life to another. When we start our journey, we are thoroughly involved in the political power of the world.  We are rubbing elbows with earthly rulers: Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate, Herod, and Caiaphas. Whatever gets done is done by human hands, with human motives, on a human timetable.  But once we fall into the bottom of that hourglass, there is not a human being in sight. We hear a voice – but it isn’t a human voice. We hear a prediction that valleys will be filled, hills will be leveled, and crookedness will be straightened – but that doesn’t happen through anything that humans do. And our ultimate destination is the salvation that only God can offer! As we travel through the hourglass, we move from an area of human power into the realm of God’s activity. We travel from politics into mystery; from possibility into impossibility; from the grimly predictable into the wildly unexpected. We move from a place of human control into a place where God alone controls events.

And where those two realms meet – at the very narrowest point of the hourglass – stands John the Baptist. John lives at the boundary between our time – a time that ticks along routinely, one predictable minute following the other; and God’s time that breaks through into ours and allows us a glimpse of the eternity that is filled by our creator. John may not be the gatekeeper into God’s time, but he is the one who points toward it. He shows us the way to the Kingdom of God.

 nd isn’t that where we all want to live? You can call it God’s time or the Kingdom of heaven or a transformed life – it’s all the same thing! It’s a place where we don’t merely exist, we live – we live richly and fully. It’s a place where we are free from the chains of pettiness and jealousy and greed. It’s a life that is so full of the love of God – and so full of the God of love – that there isn’t any room for hatred or violence. That’s what John the Baptist is pointing towards. That’s the life that the Messiah offers us. And that’s where we can live if we are willing to risk falling into the Kingdom like sand through an hourglass!

Of course, to do that, we have to give up a few things. The middle of that hourglass is very narrow. We can’t take a lot with us as we go through into God’s kingdom. We can’t take our pride with us. If we try, our heads will be too swelled to get through that bottleneck! We can’t take our prejudices and our notions of how God ought to work. If we do that, we won’t even recognize the kingdom of God, let alone get into it. And we certainly can’t take all of our belongings with us. That big sack of stuff would never fit through the bottleneck! We’d be like Scrooge, dragging all those cashboxes as he plods through life.

But giving up all those things will allow us to get into a place that is more marvelous than we ever imagined! It’s a place where God loves his people so much that he lives not in a temple, but right in the middle of them. It’s a kingdom in which not just a favored few, but everyone will see God’s salvation. It’s a kingdom in which the Messiah isn’t born in a palace, but in a stable; in which God rides into Jerusalem not on a war horse, but on a donkey; and where the most important person in human history is lifted up not on a throne, but on a cross.

Listen to what John has to say to us! Risk falling through the hourglass into the Kingdom of God! And then – then – you will be truly ready to welcome the Messiah.

Expecting

It's the second week of Advent, and we have moved from hope to preparation. Getting ready for the Messiah is a little bit like expecting a baby, as this sermon suggests. If you have children, think about your experience of preparation. Did I hit the nail on the head?

“Have you heard? Elizabeth is expecting!
Yes, Elizabeth! Old Zechariah’s wife! I understand that she got pregnant right after he saw that vision in the Temple.
Oh, I’m sure that you heard about it. Everybody heard about it. He saw an angel while he was burning incense, and he was struck dumb! And right after that… Well, you know!
Yes, I know… nobody’s seen her. She won’t let anybody see her. But she sends Zechariah to the store with lists of things to buy. Oh, she wants their usual groceries – milk and bread and peanut butter – but she wants other things, too… things like pickles and ice cream. Pickles and ice cream! Of course, she’s pregnant.
Well, you don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to. I guess I can’t blame you for that. As old as she is, that baby is something of a miracle. But I saw the delivery truck from the furniture store at their house just last week. They carried in a crib. A crib! Do you think that she’s going to plant flowers in that crib? No, I don’t think so, either.
Old Elizabeth is expecting. Will wonders never cease?!”
(You can read Elizabeth's story in Luke 1:24-25, 57-66.)

“Expecting.” That word is full of possibility! “Expecting” moves us beyond anticipation to preparation. After all, when we hope, we’re not really certain of anything. When we hope, we trust that it something will happen someday; but the details aren’t clear. When will it happen? Where? How? Hope looks forward into the future; but its vision is cloudy.

But expectation – that’s a different kettle of fish! Expectation has a face, a name, sometimes even a timetable! We can actually do some things when we are expecting something. We hope for snow and dream about walking through a winter wonderland; but when we expect snow, we get out the snow shovel.

When parents are expecting a baby, like Elizabeth and Zechariah were, they know what kinds of preparations need to be made. They need to provide a crib for the new baby so that he can sleep safely, clothing to keep him warm, and opportunities for play so that he can grow and learn and mature. The nine months pass quickly with all the preparation that accompanies expecting a child. But new parents also need to prepare to be flexible. They need to prepare for the unexpected. After all, each baby is different. Some are quiet, and some are… not so quiet. Some babies are shy, while others are outgoing. Some babies are easy to care for; while others will push every limit that you try to set for them. Any new parents who believe that they are absolutely ready for that new baby are kidding themselves!

Our preparation for the birth of the Messiah is not really all that different. We know that he’s coming. The sanctuary is decorated; the candles are in the windows; many of us are reading Advent devotionals. But exactly what will happen when he gets here… We don’t know that just yet. Just like new parents, we only know what’s going to happen in very general terms. We know that the Messiah is coming to save us; to bring us good news of God’s love; and to offer us peace beyond our wildest expectations. The prophets told us all those things long ago. But God not only fulfills the old; God surprises us with the new. We can never predict exactly what God will do!

The name of Elizabeth’s new baby is a clue to that. The relatives were going to name him after his father Zechariah. Zechariah was a good family name. It would remind the baby of his father, and maybe his father before him, and maybe even his father before him. The name “Zechariah” was a link to the past. But Zechariah wouldn’t let them do it. “His name is not Zechariah,” the old priest insisted, “His name is John.”

John. That’s a new name, a name suitable for the baby who would prepare the people for a new age… a name for the baby who would proclaim the Kingdom of God in a new way… a name for the baby who would make the way ready for a Messiah who came to conquer not by making war, but by dying on a cross.

As we expect the birth of the Christ child again this year, maybe we should add something to our preparations. There’s nothing wrong with our traditional preparations. Advent would be incomplete without greenery, wreaths, trees, and candles. But maybe we should get ready for something else, something brand new that will change our lives. Maybe we should get ready to be surprised by the newborn Messiah. Maybe we should prepare not only to be comforted, but to be challenged. Maybe we should get ready not only to receive God’s love, but to show it to others. Maybe we should get ready not only to talk about the peace that Jesus offers us as citizens of the Kingdom of God, but to live it.

“Have you heard? We’re expecting – expecting, just like Elizabeth! Oh, I know that it’s unbelievable; but it’s true! We’re expecting – all of us! Will wonders never cease?!”

From the Secret Place of God

This sermon was for the first Sunday of Advent, the Sunday that we traditionally consider how we are called to wait for things to happen in God's time. While I touch on that in this sermon, my goal is to consider how the story of the Messiah begins very small, like many things that begin small but grow to enormous proportions. Have you experienced that in your life?

Everything big begins as something very small. The giant sequoia, for example, a redwood tree that can grow to a towering height, begins life as a seed no larger than a single flake of oatmeal. The story of the Messiah’s birth is something like that. It begins in secret, announced to one man in a private room; but it grows until even the farthest reaches of the world know the story. The story begins in the Jerusalem Temple, a place both expected and surprising. We might expect the story to begin there because the Temple was considered to be the very dwelling of God as he lived among his people. But it doesn’t begin like we think it would. It doesn’t begin as an announcement to a great crowd of worshippers; it begins as a whispered word to an old priest as he goes about his duties. (Luke 1:5-23) That priest’s name was Zechariah; and he had been waiting for God’s Messiah his entire life.

Actually, all his fellow Israelites had been waiting for the Messiah to appear – and they had been waiting for a very long time. After they were conquered by Babylon, the nation of Israel lost its independence. They lost their king, too. In fact, the descendents of King David didn’t even have a throne to sit on, because Israel was always ruled by another country: first Babylon, then Persia, Greece, and finally Rome. Way back when Israel was first conquered by Babylon, the prophet Isaiah started talking about a Messiah, a new king who would be anointed by God. This Messiah wouldn’t just be a king, though; he would be a King! He would not only rule over God’s people; he would restore them, as well. The trouble was, Isaiah had lived over 400 years before Zechariah’s time; and the Messiah hadn’t so much as poked his nose around a corner. Oh, there were plenty of folks who claimed to be the Messiah; but they never turned out to be the real thing. And so, all Israel waited… and waited… and waited. You know what happens when we have to wait for something for a very long time. We give up hope that what we’re waiting for will ever appear at all. And that’s exactly what happened. To many people, the Messiah had become a lovely dream, but not someone who would ever really appear in the flesh.

And so, on that fateful day, Zechariah the priest went to the Temple to fulfill his priestly duties. It just happened to be his turn to burn the incense. A priest offered incense to God daily in the inner court of the Temple, in a room that was called “the Holy Place.” It was right next door to the Holy of Holies, where God himself lived. Only priests were permitted in the Holy Place. Zechariah had burned incense there hundreds of times before, and nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened. But on this day, as Zechariah was sprinkling incense into the fire, he looked up; and there was an angel, standing next to the altar. An angel! And that angel had a message for Zechariah. His wife Elizabeth, who had been barren all her life, was going to become pregnant and have a son – a son who would prepare the way for the Messiah. Oh, the angel didn’t say that in so many words. He described the child as having “the spirit and power of Elijah.” But in Jewish tradition, Elijah had to come back and prepare the way before the Messiah would appear. And that’s just what the angel said would happen. Zechariah’s child was going to prepare the people for God’s arrival. It was all too much for the old man. He was as stunned as if the angel had hit him over the head with a skillet. His barren wife was going to bear a son… and the boy would be the new Elijah? How could that possibly be? Zechariah, not thinking too clearly, blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “Oh, come on now! I’m old and so is my wife. There’s no way she could have a child!” He just couldn’t believe that what the angel’s announcement would really come true.

When we hear good news, we frequently don’t believe it, either. We’re just like Zechariah. We’ve lived with bad news for so long that good news seems like so much wishful thinking. If the phone rings one day and it’s a long-lost relative who wants to meet for lunch, what’s the first thing we think? We usually mutter to ourselves, “I wonder what he wants.” We probably wouldn’t rejoice in the possibility that he might want to restore the broken relationship. We’re too cynical to have that kind of hope. We’ve seen too much, and been around the block once too often. But hope is what God is all about; and God sent that angel to Zechariah to offer him the kind of hope that we can’t get on our own.

But Zechariah’s response didn’t sit too well with the angel – who, by the way turned out to be none other than Gabriel, God’s right-hand messenger. “Fine,” said Gabriel, “you don’t believe me? I brought you wonderful news. If you don’t believe it, then you’re not going to get the chance to tell everyone about it!” And in less time than it takes to tell the story, Zechariah was struck as silent as a stone. Gabriel’s secret would remain a secret for nine more months, until Zechariah’s child was born – the child who would grow up to be John the Baptist.

It’s appropriate, if you think about it. The greatest secret of all time was revealed to an old man in a private room in the Temple. How like God to begin the story in one room with one man. It’s just like the story that began with the one man Abraham, or the story that began with the one man Noah, or the story that began with the one man Adam. God always starts small, just like that giant redwood that begins life as a tiny seed. Most of us don’t take little things too seriously, though. If we are presented with a big plan, complete with goals, budget, and implementation timeline, we say, “Wow! That sounds really good!” But if we hear about something small, just the first glimmerings of an idea, we tend to frown and mutter, “Yeah, good luck with that. It’ll never work.” In the end, though, that big plan usually falls over under its own weight. But the things that begin small… they might just flourish and bear fruit. Remember that Jesus compared the Kingdom of God not to a federal budget proposal, but to a mustard seed.

As we begin this year’s Advent journey towards Bethlehem, it’s worth remembering that the story of the Messiah in our own lives begins small, as well. We don’t meet Jesus with the fanfare of a parade and a brass band. We first meet him in the secret places of our own heart. And when we do, it’s a very small thing. Sometimes we don’t even realize that we’ve met Jesus at all – not until long afterwards. But if we receive him and allow him to take root in our heart, his influence grows and grows and grows until it reaches into every nook and cranny of our life. It grows until it’s as big and sturdy and sheltering as a giant redwood tree!

Do we believe that this Christmas, the Messiah will be born again in each one of us? Are we really expecting him to appear? Or are we more like Zechariah? Do we believe that this Christmas will be just like all the others – glittery, commercial, and just a product of Madison Avenue? Well, I can’t answer that question for you. But I can suggest that as you journey through Advent this year, you open your eyes and stay alert. Who knows? When you least expect it, you might encounter an angel who has very good news to announce to you!