And there’s nothing to fear
by Jeremiah Bartram on 07/12/09 at 8:38 am
And the crowds asked him, “What then should we do?” In reply he said to them, “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.” Even tax collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him, “Teacher, what should we do?” He said to them, “Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.” Soldiers also asked him, “And we, what should we do?” He said to them, “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.” As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, John answered all of them by saying, “I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thongs of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” Luke 3, 10-18; reading for Sunday, December 13, the Third Sunday of Advent.
Commentators
NRSV provides textual interpretations as follows: “two coats”, literally “two tunics”, usually worn as undergarments; “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire”, a promise or prophecy fulfilled at Pentecost (Acts 2, 1-4); “winnowing fork”, a tool used in threshing grain.
Hardy notes that the accounts of John in the other gospels might give the impression that he confined himself to announcing the One who was coming, but Luke provides a sample of his teaching in this passage. Further, Hardy notes that “it is clear from the fact that his movement lasted long after the appearance of Jesus, and also from the independent account of John which occurs in the historian Josephus, that he must also have given moral teaching.”
With respect to that teaching, Hardy says that “in part, it was not original or surprising. Sharing food and clothing with the needy was recognized as a social obligation and a meritorious act throughout the culture.” However, he considers John’s attitude to tax collectors and soldiers (servants of the occupying power) “unusually liberal”, since those professions were generally considered “incompatible with strict observance of the law and as excluded from the true community of Israel.” John’s attitude, he notes, “was closer to that of Jesus.”
A prophetic figure preaching a radical message was bound to arouse expectations of a deliverer, and there were several pretenders to that role over the next century. However, John diverts attention from himself to the one who comes after him.
Gospel for gays
Again, John the Baptist.
Last week, he was a voice crying in the wilderness, preparing a way for the Lord, making his paths straight. This week crowds of ordinary people are seeking him out – to be baptized in repentance for their sins, and to hear his teaching.
Today’s reading falls into two parts: first it describes his ministry of baptizing and teaching, and then his very humble self-effacement. He tells people that he is not the Messiah, that in fact, someone more powerful is coming after him, the thongs of whose sandals he feels unworthy to undo. That person, whom we know as Jesus, will baptize, not with water, but with Spirit and fire.
As in the first two readings of Advent, we also have the threat of judgment: this powerful One who is to come already has his winnowing fork in his hand; he will gather the wheat into his barn, and the chaff he will burn in an everlasting fire.
Therefore, repent, and fear the wrath that is to come!
**
There seems to be a disconnect in these warnings, at least in the context of Advent.
In fact, we’re preparing for the birth of Jesus; for the coming of a God who dwells with us (and, through the Spirit, in us). And he’s coming in the most vulnerable, most tender, most helpless guise. A little baby.
It’s a joyous event that we’re being asked to prepare for. It’s life-affirming and full of hope, not fear.
The first reading for this same Sunday captures that joy. It’s from a minor prophet with the resounding name of Zephaniah, who in his brief book talks mostly about the anger of God over the transgressions of his people – and then, at the end, offers a vision of healing and happiness:
Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem! The LORD has taken away the judgments against you, he has turned away your enemies. The king of Israel, the LORD is in your midst; you shall fear disaster no more. (Zephaniah 3, 14-15)
So I question the relevance of the threats that are so much a part of the Baptist’s message, both for his own epoch and for ours – just as I question the value of a faith that is based on fear.
I think that many gay people abandon Christian faith because of such messaging. It’s counterproductive and inconsistent with the God that we know through our experience: a God of tenderness, of compassion, of inclusion.
**
There’s also a disconnect between the rhetoric ascribed to John and his actual teaching, as reported by Luke.
Just before the passage chosen for Sunday’s gospel, the Baptist calls the crowds that came out of the cities to seek him “you brood of vipers!”
“Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?” he demands. Already, he says, the ax is being laid to the tree.
Extreme language, prophetic language.
But when his hearers ask what they should do to avoid that imminent wrath, his teaching is both practical and reassuring. Basically, he tells us that we should share our surplus with those who are without.
And when those instruments of oppressive power, normally excluded from the ranks of the righteous – the tax collectors and the soldiers – ask what they should do, John doesn’t abuse them, or tell them to quit their jobs. He only tells them to discharge their duties with justice and respect: collect only what is due; don’t extort, don’t make threats, don’t abuse your power.
Jesus will be more radical than this, in the demands he makes on his followers.
But for now, the message is clear and practical: repent (go to confession; now is the time); share (have I given enough this year? Now is the time); and justice (have I wronged anyone? Taken advantage? Offended against charity? Now is the time).
**
Is there a gay reading to this gospel?
I don’t think so. I think we’re all on the same level, all equal, that no one (even tax collectors) is excluded here. That in itself is a powerful message for gay people. We’re right there, in the expectant crowd, like anybody else.
Each of us who dares to await the coming of the Lord is one in hope, although each of us also has her own path.
And what matters is renewing our conversion – yet again.
Because that’s another difference between our situation and that of the people who flocked to meet the Baptist.
This is Advent. Advent begins again, every year. Once again, we open our hearts, our pockets, our surplus to our brothers and sisters. Once again, we turn to God in humility, seeking a deeper renewal.
And there’s no need to be afraid.
