I had a realization on Tuesday evening that our Bible Study group witnessed me coming to in real time: that John the Baptist was an Episcopalian.

In our daily office prayers, and even in our Sunday Eucharist, if we turn back the pages, we begin our approach to God always with our confession of and repentance for our sins. We hear the assurance of forgiveness, of God’s mercy upon us, and the promise of a clean slate, a new opportunity to live into the promises of love that God has made to and for us.

John came baptizing for the forgiveness of sins, washing away guilt and making ready the people for the coming of Christ, for their recognition of and worship of and following of Jesus. The great forerunner is a model of our liturgy, and a message for our lives: Be ready, for Christ is coming.

This is a promise of great joy: “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” (1 Thessalonians 5:16)

Making ready for the Messiah, confessing our sins and asking forgiveness and assistance not to repeat them is a matter of hope. Though we may grieve what we have wrought, through confession we hope to do better. With forgiveness we have the hope once more to take on the mantle of discipleship, to follow Jesus with the expectation of joy and peace. We repent, we rely on the mercy of God, we are freed to find and follow Jesus.

The people sent to John questioned who he thought he was, to promise such forgiveness, to proclaim such a hope, in a land oppressed by occupation, and riven by war, and stricken. What good could the waters of the Jordan do, they wondered, when they run only into the Dead Sea, and there become stagnant and still.

But the Spirit of God sent the prophet to bring good news to the oppressed, relief to the brokenhearted, liberty to those held captive to the sins of the world; to proclaim the coming of the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.

These past two weeks we’ve had artwork hanging in the Chapel made from guns. It is a strange thing to take apart the pieces of a weapon made for death and turn it into something that brings hope to life. It is a blessing. This past week, someone who pastors the living and the dying came and took away with him the heart that you all forged together out of broken pieces of a broken gun. In it I imagine that he saw the brokenness of our world, our conflict and our violence and our constant appetite for war, and at the heart of it the Cross, the breaking in of God’s compassion to break open our compassion and draw out our understanding of the way of mercy, the way of love. The coming together of those broken pieces, surrounding the Cross, making a new thing out of an old means of dying, the way in which all of us together have found a new pattern modeled on the way of Christ’s Cross; that is hope.

Choosing to repent of old ways and forge a new path; that is hope. It is a reason for rejoicing. 

There is no doubt that we find ourselves in the waning days of Advent in need of hope. We are busy, we are stretched and stressed, we are missing those whom we have lost. We see the perfect gift and remember that there is no one left to unwrap it. The nights grow long and cold, and the days are brief and the sun gets in our eyes. Who are you, we ask the prophet, to promise rejoicing in the midst of winter?

And John replies honestly, “You are right. I am not the light; but Light is coming.” 

You are right, a few strings of Christmas lights and strains of Christmas carols cannot undo nor drown out the news of human suffering and continuing strife. But the Light is coming. And the way that we prepare for him is with rejoicing.

Not rejoicing in the sins that we confess, but rejoicing that God sanctifies us nonetheless, because the mercy of God endures forever.

Not rejoicing despite the wars and ways of the world, but rejoicing that we have seen a better way, have glimpsed the glory that emanates from the humility and vulnerability at the heart of the human condition: the way in which we become not less but more human when our hearts our broken open by compassion, when our tenderness is piqued by the plight of a baby born in a broken manger instead of a hospital or home. The way that we come closer to Christ when we confess, in all honesty, our need for forgiveness and our hope for a more peaceful future, a more peaceable spirit, a more peaceful world. 

It’s even a good way to prepare for the holidays at home, isn’t it? To confess our faults, clear the air, make way for a better relationship.

John came proclaiming baptism for the forgiveness of sins in preparation for the coming of Christ. The people sent to confront him asked who he thought he was to declare with such audacity the faithfulness of God. They wondered what good it could do to submerge themselves in the River Jordan when it runs only into the Dead Sea. But there is another prophet, Ezekiel, who sees a river of life running down from the city of God and renewing everything in its path. “When it enters the sea, the sea of stagnant waters,” he said, “the water will become fresh … It will become fresh, and everything will live where the river goes.” (Ezekiel 47:8-9)

Because God makes all things new, and Christ is coming anew, and we are ready to rejoice in that good news, which is our salvation. 

Advent 3: John 1:6-8,19-28, 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24 , Isaiah 6:1-4,8-11