FIRST READING MALACHI 3:1-4
1See, I am sending my messenger to
prepare the way before me, and the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his
temple. The messenger of the covenant in whom you delight — indeed, he is
coming, says the LORD of hosts. 2But who can endure the day of his coming, and who
can stand when he appears?
For he is like a refiner's fire
and like fullers' soap; 3he will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he will
purify the descendants of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, until they
present offerings to the LORD in righteousness. 4Then the offering of Judah and
Jerusalem will be pleasing to the LORD as in the days of old and as in former
years.
LUKE 3:1-6
1In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor
Tiberius,
when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea,
and Herod was ruler of Galilee,
and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and
Trachonitis,
and Lysanias ruler of Abilene,
2during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas,
the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.
3He went into all the region around the Jordan,
proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins,
4as it is written in the book of the words of the
prophet Isaiah,
"The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
'Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.
5Every valley shall be filled,
and every mountain and hill shall be made low,
and the crooked shall be made straight,
and the rough ways made smooth;
6and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.'"
***
Some have hills, some have valleys, in our town we have both. We
have neither the highest hills, nor the lowest valleys. Some have smooth
straight paths, and others rugged and rough winding passes. We have both, but
for the most part, we can cross from one side to the other, depending on the
weather. Here in the place half way between the equator and the North Pole, we
sit, rather comfortably. It is not a bad place to be. Not bad at all. Yet, I
wonder, what paths need to be bridged.
In the time Isaiah and the time of Luke, in the time of Cephias,
and Herod, Tiberius and Pontius Pilate, in the time of John, and Zechariah, it
wasn’t that easy to get from one side the other. There was wilderness in
between, a place with no bridge across it, a place with no straight paths
through it, a place divided by rugged mountains and desert valleys, perhaps it
was like the Oregon Trail. Perhaps it was that kind of wilderness, that kind of
divide. Yet, I think it was more than physical. Will used to say that the only
way to get across playing the Oregon Trail computer game was to be a banker. I
wonder if this was true in those days, the days of John, and the governor of
Judea, in the days before Christ. I wonder if this inequality of wealth is what
brought John from the wilderness to the edge of civilization by the river
Jordan. I wonder if, when the Word of God came to John in the wilderness, it
said something was wrong if the only way to survive was to be rich, to be the
banker, or the tax collector, the debt keeper.
You see when John talks about repentance for the forgiveness of
sins, he is also talking about the forgiveness of debts. Its why in these days,
there are at least three English translations of that part of the Lord’s
Prayer, ‘debts and debtors, sins and sinners, trespasses and those who trespass
against us.’ In John’s day the religion, and the government, and the wealth was
all controlled by the same people. There was no separation of church and state,
of religion and power. There were those that had, and those that had not, and
there was an impassable mountain between them.
Today, what mountains stand between us? What mountains stand
between us and those who are indebted to us? From the valley, what might we
hold against those who hold our debt. Can the mountain and valley between us,
debts and debtors be made low? In our church, are we on a mountain overlooking
a valley between us and those we serve? In what ways is our endowment a bridge,
and in what ways is it is a mountain? Is it bridge when we are downstairs in
the basement serving breakfast and packing bags? Does it remain a mountain if
the wealthy and powerful are still ones deciding how our endowment should be
spent and kept? Do we allow ourselves to be served, to be guided by the poor?
Or are we the Emperors and the bankers? How do we make the mountains low and
fill in the valleys?
In our own lives, is their desert valley separating us and those
who have sinned against us? In our own lives, is their desert valley separating
us and those we have sinned against? Are there people whom we don’t talk to
because something was left unsaid, or perhaps too much was said? As the
holidays approach, is their family who will not be sitting at our table because
of our own doing, or because of their choosing? What wilderness lies between
us? Are there people in our church, who have left because the valley seemed to
big to cross? Are there people in our church who would rather not come to the
table together because a wilderness lies between them? Are there people who are
not invited to our communion table, to our dining room table, because of the
color of their skin, or their sexual orientation, or religion, or politics?
What are the wildernesses in our lives? Where are the desert valleys, which
remain impassable? From what mountain do we watch? From what valley do we look
upon those on the mountain with distain? Where are the wildernesses in our
lives? What are the places that are impassable?
I tell you, these impassable places are the places between us
and the coming of our Lord. We must prepare, we must make the mountains low and
the valleys filled. We must make the crooked straight, and the rough ways
smooth. It is this building and navigating that we will see the coming of our
Lord. What wilderness lies between you and the coming of our Lord? What keeps
you from seeing the salvation of God. As you prepare this Advent season, as you
wrap gifts, and trim the tree, think about how you might begin to make a
bridge, how you might continue to make a mountain low, and a valley filled in.
I say continue because this is not the first Advent season.
Bridges have begun, below in our church basement they have begun. In our
welcome, to those of all different walks of life in this church they have
begun. In our personal lives, reaching out to lost loved ones, they have begun.
In our work as teachers, and lawyers, moms and dads, business people and
keepers of creation in ranch and forest, builders and retired workers, best
friends, and new friends. You are a congregation at work building bridges. The
women’s support group sent out bags and bags of cookies, to those who could not
be here with us, to those who just might need a sweet caring gesture. A bunch
of youth, and a their parents, a bunch of congregation members have helped me
at the manse in recent weeks. I feel indebted. I do, but I also can see paths
made through a wilderness of paint cans, and fallen leaves, and an empty home.
A group of Presbyterians, and Baptists, and school filled jars of peanut butter
for hungry kids. These are the paths which prepare us for the coming of our
Lord. These are the mountains and hills and desert valleys which navigate us
closer to the Christ. These are ways the crooked become straight. The voice of
one has cried out in the wilderness and we have responded, we are responding,
and we will continue to respond until all flesh shall see the salvation of God.
