Good morning! It’s SO nice to see everyone again! I really missed this congregation.
I see new faces out there--that’s exciting. I can’t wait to get to know you.
I also see Rev. Michelle and her family worshiping with us this morning. (I’ve missed this perch!) My thanks to her and to Mo. Eliza. Without their steady leadership this sabbatical would not have been possible. Not to mention our wardens, vestry, and so many of you who kept things running smoothly in my absence. We’re an impressive congregation.
I wasn't sure how Sunday mornings would go during my three months away--and I don’t mean Sundays here; I wasn’t worried about that. I mean my own. When the first Sunday rolled around, I didn’t want to go anywhere, and I thought, Uh oh. But the following Sunday, I was right back at it. After that, we didn’t miss a week of church.
We attended (my family and I) the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in Manhattan for the Blessing of the Animals. Someone from here got there early and saved us front row seats (in the packed cathedral). Our large and boisterous Airedale was nearly trampled by a camel, we were that close. After that we went to Trinity in Ossining, St. James in Fordham, St. Michaels Manhattan, and the rest of the time to Quaker Meeting, Andrew’s former practice and our spiritual home away from home.
(And in case you were wondering: my family argues on the way to church, too! I think that’s just part of it )
I love what we do here--and not just here at St. James, but all over the diocese, in neighborhoods and churches as different as Fordham in the Bronx to Trinity Wall Street. I heard a lot of great sermons but the one I remember best was by the dean at the Cathedral on St. Francis Day. She said what we’re about here is “the upside-downing” of the world. Questioning conventions, challenging hierarchies, who’s first, who’s last, what counts and what doesn’t: the answer in here is never what you expect. That’s what keeps us coming and why the world needs this.
So again, it’s good to be back, and to be doing our part at St. James in this larger, grander project of the Church.
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John the Baptist. Fiery, grumpy, preachy, John.
His presence right here, every year, reminds us again that the church does things its own way, and it has the history and the clout to do so. Without the church we wouldn't even have Christmas. So today let’s listen to what it’s telling us by putting this firebrand prophet here while all around we’re being told to get in a cheerful mood.
I think of John as a nod to all those--and there always are those--who come to this season with mixed emotions. A lost loved one, a first Christmas without a parent, worries about money, or health, difficulties at work, loss of faith, anger at something or someone you can’t seem to shake--a family member, co-worker, the government, maybe the church. Every Single Person in this room will (at some point) find yourself in the grip of such feelings this time of year. If you’ve ever felt out of sync with everything and everyone around, you are not alone. John is here to assure us of that.
We know a lot about John the Baptist. There’s a historical record of his life outside the Bible. You can’t say that for many of the figures we meet in our scriptures. John was mentioned at length by Josephus, Jewish historian of the first century in his multi-volume Antiquities of the Jews. We also learn about him from Celcus, a Roman intellectual who wrote (not very favorably) about the early Christian movement, including John.
What we know from these sources is a lot of what the Bible also tells us: that John lived a strict life. That he baptized many people, including Jesus, in the Jordan River. That he called people out for their sins, urging repentance and amendment of life. That he didn’t come to a good end: he was eventually beheaded for speaking out against the marriage of Herod Antipas.
We also learn from these sources something the Bible makes pains not to tell us: that John had followers in his own right, and that they continued to be his followers even after the Jesus movement took hold. There were disciples of John right through the second century; many became Christians in time, but not all. The one small hint we have of this in the Bible came at the end of his life, where from prison John sends a delegation of people to Jesus to question whether he is the person John thought he was. John’s doubts in his final days must have left a lasting impression on some of his disciples.
From other literature from and about that period we’re fairly sure that John had once been part of a sect called the Essenes, a group of ascetic Jews who lived in the wilderness and abided by strict standards of diet, dress, and hygiene. That also matches what the Bible tells us. What does every Sunday school child know about John? That he wore: camel's hair. He ate: locusts, and honey. I read so much about John this week that I even researched the method for smoking out a honeycomb in the wild that he’d likely used.
John doesn’t fit in with the image we're trying to project as Christmas draws near, both in the church and each of us out there: that things are good. That life is in order. That everything looks perfect. That we’re happy. As someone in our Bible Study last Wednesday pointed out, John is the guy you pass by in the street, or avoid sitting next to on the train. The person you don’t want to be or even be near. But that guy has an important message for you. And this morning, we can’t walk by; we're a captive audience.
We don't have to be what culture is telling us to be, or have to have a holiday that looks a certain way and where everyone walks away satisfied. We don't have to have all this stuff, and in fact would probably live much better lives without it, not to mention giving our planet a break and all those affected by our over consumption. (Locusts--did you know?--are one of the highest protein/low-carbon foods out there? So, John was ahead of his time!)
John is the guy who gives us permission to be whatever we have the strength to be and if that’s not much or isn’t going to look very good this year, or meet others’ expectations for us, that’s OK. Maybe better.
And for who are so blessed as to be happy this season; to quote from our Book of Common Prayer: shield the joyous. As you move through the season, remember the guy on the train or street, or even just your neighbor or family member who looks unkempt and bedraggled. Have compassion, never be smug, remember the wisdom they bear, and don’t forget that one day you'll need them to cheer you up and remind you that you’re okay.
But today is for those who need him, now.
Amen.