Sermon by Kayla August, doctoral student at the School of Theology and Ministry at Boston CollegeThe Memorial Church in a snow-covered Harvard Yard. Photo by Jeffrey Blackwell/Memorial Church Communications.
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By Kayla August
Doctoral student at the School of Theology and Ministry at Boston College
(The following is a transcript of the service audio, Dec. 11, 2022)
"Are you the one to come or should we look for another?"
A simple and direct question. A question free of misinterpretations, of vagueness. A question said by someone who has been waiting a long time, and is no longer worried about pretense. A question that gets to the point. "Are you the one to come or should we look for another?"
This question from John is also one we find in our world today. Sometimes asked aloud and sometimes asked internally. It could be the question that comes after the second maintenance man comes to check on your broken washer, after the first one left realizing they can't fix it because they don't have the parts. And now you're just thinking, "Listen, are you the one to come or should I look for another?"
It's the one who is already running late, while waiting for their Uber driver to arrive, and the arrival time keeps getting extended. And you see cars arrive and depart of all your friends, and you finally walk up to the next car and you say, "Are you the one to come or should I look for another?"
As I get older, I find this to be the words on the minds and the lips of some of my single friends as they go on to yet another first date, in hopes of finding their future spouse and they say, "Listen, are you the one to come or should I look for another?"
The questions in our lives can be big or small. And the big questions that come our way often accompany bigger moments. These questions come on the first day of a new job or at the beginning of a new relationship, as you wonder what's to come. Also, big questions come to immigrants who have traveled and struggled and are asking, "Will this be the place where I can finally be at rest?"
We know this questions from friends or relatives in the long battle with cancer, as they ask the questions of the right treatment or surgery to finally put the long road of recovery to bed.
We live in big questions, as yet another natural disaster upturns lives of innocent people and we wonder, "Why God? Why them?" Or maybe even why us?
All of these questions linger and stir, and rarely if ever do adequate answers come. Though in the waiting, we sit, sometimes in pain, sometimes in confusion, and cling to the hope of something more.
The people of Israel knew this wait. In their time in exile they too were pained and broken and looking for reasons for the devastation and the destruction of their lives by the Babylonians. In their questioning, they hoped for home. The prophet Isaiah offers a poetic anticipation of that coming time, when all would be restored by God, imagining when people would be healed and brought home to safety, the sadness of the past converted to joy and hope. The prophet Isaiah speaks of what is to come saying, "The desert and the parched land will exalt, it will bloom with abundant flowers and people will rejoice with joyful song and we will once again see the glory and splendor of the Lord."
And not just the land and the bodies would be healed. He goes on to say that God will, "strengthen the hands that are feeble and make firm the knees that are weak." This loving God will make a way where there was once none, and bring vengeance to those who had hurt them. They would know the mighty signs of God and Isaiah points them to the good times to come, knowing that exile would be a long time of waiting.
John knew this long wait in hopes of the mighty acts of God. Not only had his people been awaiting a savior, but he himself had been waiting. Before he was even born from inside his mother's womb, he leaps with joy as the sense presence of the one to come, at the beautiful moment of the visitation.
John didn't wait idly by. John was a doer. And if John was alive today, we'd call him John the Load Finisher. He was not waiting until the maintenance man arrived to finish his laundry, no. John was washing his clothes in the Jordan, by hand, with particular pair to the delicates. You got to walk at those, right? John was the Uber driver. He was not waiting for the car to arrive. He was driving his own. And he didn't just pick you up on time. He's got mints and water bottles in the backseat, because he knows his five star rating. John the online dater would've checked the full internet history before he even showed up to the coffee shop, because he wanted to know if the time had truly come and been at hand.
John the Baptist, a man of word and action, didn't just sit by and wait for the one to come. He took action. He spent years living in the wilderness to separate himself in preparation, clothed in camel hair and surviving on locusts and wild honey. He heralded the in-breaking of the kingdom as he preached repentance for all. And he preached bold truths, calling out the hypocrisy of the religious establishment and the immorality of political leaders. He was not trying to make any friends. He preached and he prayed and he preached some more about the kingdom of God at hand and those who responded to the message is how he got his name, John the Baptist, by baptizing them in the river.
But the one to come, the one he was hoping for, was not quite like Jesus. John's fiery call to, "prepare ye the way of the Lord," showed that he was not yet himself prepared for what actually came. He, like so many others, wanted of the embodiment of the power of God, someone who would lead with strength and military might, not who would lead with love and compassion. Someone who would save them from being ruled by the Roman Empire, not someone who advocated to give to Caesar what is Caesars and give to God what is God's. Someone who would reign with fire and truth and authority, not someone who sat with sinners and tax collectors and those on the outskirts of society. Someone who would be the obvious fulfillment of the Jewish law, not someone who constantly was called out for contradicting it.
The powerful image of God was someone who would reign God's presence with a closed fist, not an open heart. And yet here Jesus stood, a humble man of Galilee, doing the mighty acts of God. Have you ever been at that point, when something or someone you've hoped for, you have anticipated, you've wanted more than anything. it comes in this unexpected way?
At this point in the gospel, John has been so outspoken that he has now found himself in prison. And he sends one of his disciples out to go and ask the question that has been on not only his heart but that of so many others. It's the question that comes from someone who has given their all and is ready to finally have all they awaited arrive. "Are you the one to come or should we look for another?"
In true Jesus fashion, He doesn't give a direct answer. He gives him the pieces to figure out His answer. I find that our God is more often a God of questions than of answers. It is said that Jesus was asked 183 questions in the gospel, 183, and of all of those he only directly answers three. Three. No one would gamble with those odds. I wouldn't gamble with those odds.
Often His answers are in story or deeper thoughts that bring you to deeper questions about the nature of who God is. Questions like, "Who do you say that I am? What do you want me to do for you? Why are you so afraid?" Faith is not a place of simplistic answers. It's one of deep questions. And when we want it most to be simple, a simple yes or a simple no, we often are led down unexpected paths where if we get an answer at all, it is far from the one we anticipated.
This engagement between Jesus and John is no different. Instead of answering the question, Jesus names His deeds, evident of the proof of who He is. He points John to the fruits of what he sees instead of giving him a compact answer. Jesus said, "Go and tell John what you hear and see. The blind regain their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them."
And then he added, "And blessed is the one who takes no offense in me." Blessed is the one who takes no offense in me. I think that last part was a bit cheeky on Jesus' part and let me tell you why. He's saying, "Don't be offended that I was not what you expected. Perhaps God has plans that you can never imagine. Perhaps the plan could be what you want and more if you don't dismiss it." For Jesus knew that those who are not offended would be open, not to the dream that they thought would be the answer to their desire, but they would find what they were looking for in a new way. And if you too can let go of your offense, then you might see a blessing that's unexpected or at least an answer that leads to a new and unexpected question.
John was doing the work. He was. He was taking the time to pray and think and prepare. John was evangelizing every day for the future at hand, welcoming those who felt ready for the in-breaking of God, those who felt ready no matter what hardships would come. But in the end it's not about looking for the easy answer, it's about pointing yourself toward God and being ready for the new questions that emerge as you follow.
It's advent and as we prepare for Christmas, I think about the star. The star is the same one named in Matthew's gospel that pointed the Magi toward the baby born to be king of the Jews. Though we like them may have traveled for a long time, sitting with some question or many questions on our hearts, and a dream of what this long awaited question would answer, you may find the answer wrapped up in an unexpected way. For the Magi, it was wrapped up in swaddling clothes and laying in a feeding trough, surrounded by animals. Certainly not what they thought would be for their long awaited king. But there Jesus was, and if they had lost sight of the star and started following their own assumptions, they might have passed up the manger for more regal sleeping arrangements. But our God is a God of surprises.
I can only imagine the questions that arose for them on their way back home. Because we all have questions. And they had questions then. Mary and Jesus had, Mary and Joseph, excuse me, had questions. They were wondering where would they even lay their head for the night on this very important and momentous occasion? The wise men had a question that brought them very far from home. "Where is the one to be the king of the Jews? We want to see him." The shepherd boy I'm sure had questions even though we don't mark those. "Is there someone around that I can leave my sheep with? I really got to go check this out."
And there are questions still today that sit upon our hearts unanswered. I know it. Questions like, "Will my family finally see me for who I really am? What is my purpose God? And when will I truly know it? When will our world reflect the kingdom of God at hand? And what part do I play in this broken world, even what small part to making it so?" As we search for those answers, we keep our eyes on the star, the guiding post that we are in the direction of God and we need to keep going. Because the God of questions is there, waiting to sit with you as God reveals the signs as God's presence that will never leave us.
Jesus may be saying to you, "Go and tell John. Go and tell John that those ones blinded regain their sight, as God gives to those who are open to better ways to see the prejudices they hold and the obstacles that stand in front of them from reaching out to the other in front of them, because they are now clouded with unconscious bias and words they might regret." "I can help you see again," Jesus says. We may not see the lame walk today, but Jesus makes sure that the ones who may feel too tired to continue the walk down the long road to end injustice, find just enough strength to go another mile, to pass the baton for another to keep the journey.
We may not see lepers cleansed, but Jesus says that there are those now cleansed of addiction and other sorrows in their life. And though they may find themselves once again covered in dirt, at least now they know where the stream of waters are, so they can begin to cleanse again when they're ready.
We may not see the deaf here in the ways they once spoke about in scriptures, but those who failed to listen to those in need are now unable to shut out the voices of those crying out for aid. And their ears will burn with the voices until change comes.
And we haven't seen the dead rise yet, but we can see the dead parts inside of us, the parts that are broken from heartache, from loss, from troubles in our lives, come to life again, because there is someone or something around you hoping to help that resurrection begin if you let it.
The poor have the good news proclaimed to them, and I know it. Whether they are poor in spirit or in economic status, we have the good news today. The good news that God came and is still with us, that God can sit in our hearts and is at work, shining in the presence of our lives. And we proclaim it at this celebration and in all the moments.
So I ask you today, what are the questions that you carry? What are they? Can you bring those honest and authentic questions to God? Do you believe? Do you really believe it in a God that will answer them perhaps with a new question?
For me, Isaiah's words hold the promise of God. That God will in fact strengthen the hands that are feeble and make firm the knees that are weak. That in the midst of hardship, God is saying to those whose hearts are frightened, "Be strong. Fear not. Here is your God." This doesn't mean there won't be more questions, but we must know the signs of God are evident, if we look. God is there shining in our midst and if we continue to sit in those questions, we can be open to unexpected and beautiful answers. The God of questions is at our door asking us to prepare ye the way. And if we are truly ready, really ready, like John wants us to be, we must first answer the question, "Will you let God show you the way?"