You won’t be disappointed

Reader, please note: This sermon was originally delivered at St. John’s Episcopal Church in North Haven, Connecticut on December 12, 2021.

You’ve heard about this guy for a while now.

Your friends and neighbors have come back after listening to him preach and they all say the same thing, you’ve got to hear what this guy is saying!

And you think about it, but he’s way out there preaching in the wilderness and you’re stuck in Jerusalem most weekends.

The kids keep you busy, one of them has soccer on Saturdays and you then have to get the other one to cheer practice seemingly on the other side of town and then it’s time for dinner and at the end of the day all you want to do is just sit down, watch a movie or maybe read a bit.

But over and over you hear the same, you’ve got to see this guy and that encouragement plants itself in the back of your mind and sits there.

Maybe sitting at a stop light you think, I’ve got to see that guy someday.

It sounds like he’s saying some pretty interesting stuff, it sounds like he’s preaching something different and when was the last time you heard anybody preach anything?

But then the light turns green and you head to the grocery store as planned and the thoughts of going to hear that guy talk near the river reenter the recesses of your mind as you gently squeeze avocados to test for their ripeness and wonder if they have those whole grain waffles your daughter likes and it’s good she is getting something at least a little bit healthier than those glazed donut holes into her system.

On your way to work one Monday, while caught in traffic where you are usually caught in traffic because the sun hits just right on the highway shining in people’s eyes causing them to slow to a crawl, you think about that guy again.

Everyone is saying you gotta go hear that guy preach.

And you know your child doesn’t have soccer next weekend and your other child will be at a sleepover for the entire weekend and you think, why not?

You’ll go.

You’ll do the drive

You’ll take route 1 to 90, get off on 437 and that should take you to where this guy is preaching, in the land of the Jordan, away from the stop lights and traffic that always slows at that one particular spot.

You go through your work week, you do the tasks at hand, never too distracted but somewhere in the back of your mind is the reminder that you’ll be road tripping it this weekend and maybe it will be fun, something out of the ordinary, something a bit more than Netflix on the couch on a Saturday night.

You know the soccer player will be well taken care of left to their own devices, they like alone time, they like a lazy weekend as much as you do.

And your cheerleader will be just as happy hanging out with their friends all weekend socializing and laughing and saying serious things about serious topics in serious conversations kids their age have.

And now it is time for you to go.

You tell your neighbors and friends you are going to hear this guy preach and they remark about how you won’t be disappointed.

You joke that you better not be considering how many times they told you how great he is and they laugh but finish their laughter in a serious tone similar to your cheerleaders tone with her friends and say, “you won’t be,” they say, “you won’t be.”

So you get in the car.

There’s not much traffic, it’s the weekend and the cars are mostly at home in their driveways except for some that are out running errands, carrying their drivers to and fro.

You head west then north then west again; it’s a 55 minute drive but today it takes you 50.

You approach the Jordan, turn off on to a flood plain and park the car on the flattened land amidst trampled reeds and loose top soil.

After you park you head down closer to the river.

Although just 50 minutes away, you can already tell you are far from home.

There is much there here.

Not many buildings since the last village you passed through, the last gas station was miles away before that.

You are rural now, where once you were urban, but still, your car is parked with other cars, one car amongst hundreds.

And you continue heading toward the river.

You begin to see the crowds, hearing them first a murmur sounding like the bending Jordan nearby gives away their location and you begin to see the crowds.

This is wilderness to you but it is not the deepest jungle type of wilderness, it is wild and sparse and dusty and in the wilderness are the crowds, the crowds who were told by their friends to go see this guy preach, they won’t be disappointed.

You gather with them, your expectation is wonder, your wonder informed by what you have heard from friends and neighbors but not from the man himself.

In fact you see no great man before you, you see only the crowd.

And you are struck by the crowd.

These are not the elites; the landed gentry dressed in their country finery, but they are everyday people just like you, typically caught up in traffic and thoughts about what needs to get done and not found in crowds on a riverbank waiting to listen to this guy preach who everyone needs to hear.

You see the workaday hands hold on lunch sacks and water bottles, some sit making a picnic while others stand looking toward the middle of the crowd until they notice one among them, dressed wildly begin to stir, begin to move, begin to make the motions that something was about to start.

The murmuring babble begins to subside amongst the rabble.

You see this man move deliberately and with purpose, he starts: “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?”

Whoa.

That was quite the introduction.

Brood of vipers?

Are you part of a nest of snakes?

Who should say such things?

You do all the right things.

You are faithful to your spouse.

You are trying to raise your kids right.

You follow the commandments.

Who is to say you are a viper?

You are trying to bear good fruit.

And yet what this man is saying, this wild man of the wilderness seems to be saying that is not enough, that you are a sinner and broken and you need to repent.

And the crowd begins to murmur once more, murmuring wonderings asking what are they to do?

For this man is talking about repentance.

Repent from what, they ask.

What are we to do?

And the man answers back that each and every one person in that crowd must love their neighbor, not by declaring their love and being kind, but by actively loving each other.

If they have two coats, they must give one to the person who has none.

If they have food, they must share their meal with those who have hunger.

And you look to this crowd of which you are a part.

You recognize just how much they seem similar to you.

You feel like these are your people and this is your place.

A man next to you gives you a cup of water, noticing you carry not bottle.

You see a woman nearby without any food in hand and so you share half of the sandwich you brought to snack on.

These people are actively loving each other for it is the right thing to do, you are actively loving them by sharing of yourself what you can.

And this is new.

But there is more for there is more to come.

Repent, the man says, repent.

Repent of what?

Repent of your judgment.

Repent of your jealousy.

Repent of your sinful ways and the crowd, some kneeling, some standing with their arms at ninety degree angles by their sides, palms facing upwards, some with hands pointed to the sky, begin to ask for forgiveness.

Forgiveness for their judgment.

Forgiveness for their jealousy.

Forgiveness for their sinful ways.

And you hear this message and see so many people who look just like you and carry the same burdens you do, and hold on to the same biases and indifference that you do, you see them asking for forgiveness and hear their exhortations, their pleas, and you begin to do the same.

God, forgive me for my judging others.

God, forgive me for my jealousy.

God, forgive me for my sinful ways.

And a peacefulness washes over you like you’ve not felt for a long time for you are cleansed in God’s absolution; you are clean.

You are free.

You are renewed.

And you are filled with anticipation for under this sun lives another, another who shall cleanse the world of evil, free the world of death, bring to this world a kingdom of righteousness and grace.

And you breathe in this freedom, this desire for the good news, you breathe in through your nose a long breath and you slowly exhale.

You breathe in judgmentalism and exhale tolerance.

You breathe in jealousy and exhale understanding.

You breathe in your own sinfulness and exhale your prayer for forgiveness.

And you look at the crowd around you, you see the tax collectors, the soldiers, the cops, the nurses, the business people, your neighbors and you see them as they are, your siblings in all things, your partners who can help you build a better world a world that can escape the winnowing fork, the fires to come, for you will all be building a community of peace and transformation.

For yours is a love of action and feeding and clothing and actively loving those who might be hard to love and realizing you are a part of that love to.

You are a part of everything.

And you are loved.

By God.

The man begins to wrap up.

You begin to tire.

It has been an exhausting day.

You head to your car with the others heading from their own cars.

They are leaving, the Jordan is now at their back.

Cars fill and begin to move.

A line forms to head on to the road back home.

It will take a little longer to head home, longer than it took to get here, that’s for sure.

And as you wait to get on to the road that will lead you to the highway that will lead you home,  you have time to think.

To think all about what that man said and how he said it, and then, what came after…

Wow.

You are transformed.

You are transformed and tired and utterly changed.

You leave the river ready to give of yourself.

You leave the river ready to forgive others.

God has called you to this place and now God is calling you to serve and to love and to build the dream God has for all of us.

And the day shifts to the evening.

You are close to home now, your thoughts of the day providing the soundtrack of time passing in a silent car.

As you pull into your driveway, you see a neighbor you haven’t seen in a while.

After exchanging hellos, you pause half a pause and say, “Hey, have you heard what that guy is saying down by the Jordan?”

“No,” says the neighbor.

“Well,” you reply, “you gotta go! You won’t be disappointed!”

Amen.