This week’s Gospel challenges us to think about who this John might be. Is it possible to confuse him with Elijah or with the prophet who was Moses? Is it possible to think that he might be the messiah? To all of these questions, John says, “No”. He is not Elijah; he is not the prophet; and he is certainly not Christ. In what I think is one of the most wonderful identifiers in Scripture, John says, “I am the voice.”
As a blind person, I often think that the world gets too involved in the visual trappings of presentation. It’s about the clothes we wear, the makeup, the lipstick. We live in a world that is obsessed with physical appearance and beauty. Somehow life acceptability is about the right fabric in the right season, the right shoes, the right haircut, and the right color of skin.
As a blind person, it seems really unimportant, so I am somewhat amused to hear people talk about having a “blind faith” while we use symbols important to us. We know that Christmas will come even if we don’t light the Advent Candles, but lighting the candles helps us measure the time. Most weeks I put on the alb, the symbol of baptism and the shroud of death, which helps us remember that, whether we live or we die, we are in Christ. I put on the stole signifying that I am an ordained pastor of the Church, that I have put on the yoke of Christ. I wear my cross that reminds me that I am a public minister of the Church who is marked with the cross and sealed by the Holy Spirit forever. They are important symbols for me personally, but they are important for you to see as well.
In this technological world we live in, we now bring still more symbols into our worship space; some that might not be as clear. We project the worship service on giant screens and provide pleasant pictures of children playing, mountain rivers flowing through rapids, of artifacts from Bible times, in part, because, by themselves, the banners and the paraments, the altar and the cross are not enough to keep our attention any more.
Here, in the Gospel of John, we encounter a witness. There is no mention of clothing, no mention of diet, no mention of haranguing condemnation and a call to repentance. Here we discover a faceless witness whose job it is to bear witness to the one we do not and cannot see in our midst. We are engaged by, “The Voice.” This voice of witness directs our attention to the one we do not see, to the one we do not know—to the one who comes into the world, but the world does not know him—but this is the one whose light cannot be swallowed up in darkness.
As Jesus is described as the Word, John is now identified as the voice that speaks to and of the Word. John is the one who makes it possible for us to know the Word. In the midst of darkness, John points to the Word, to the Light, to Life itself, and to the hope of Life to come. John points to the Light and puts our feet on the path that leads to knowing the One in our midst is the salvation of the world.
John’s voice is so confident and persuasive that, when his disciples meet Christ, they immediately abandon John and follow the One who is greater. Certainly, Jesus will have much to say about himself, but it is this witness of John, not John himself, but his testimony, that gives initial legitimacy to who Jesus is.
In the midst of the priests and the Levites questioning John this week, asking him, “Who are you?”, I have been led to ponder the question, “Who am I?” When I was in catechism one of the most important things I learned was, “I am a person, born and living, uniquely created in the image of God, saved by God’s gracious love.” This is an important identifier for myself, but I am not sure what that means to other people. So, how should I respond to others when they want to know my authority when speaking of Christ?
While I led an adult study at a congregation where I was a member as I was awaiting a new call, a woman once asked, “When you say these things, what authority do you have when you challenge the way I have been brought up?”
Somewhat stunned, I searched for something to say, and, after a longer pause than I was comfortable with, I finally said, “Well, I am ordained; I have served congregations as pastor; and I have spent a fair amount of time with both Greek and Hebrew.”
The woman replied, “Oh, I didn’t know that you were ordained.” I wasn’t wearing a collar, but somehow, I thought that the subject I was teaching made it self-evident.
Yes, when we say things that challenge the world around us, people want to know, “Just who the heck do we think we are?” Are we Elijah, challenging the powers of Ahab and Jezebel, then fleeing for our lives in the wilderness? Are we the prophet leading the people of God out of slavery, pointing the way to the promised land but not able to enter therein? Do we think that we are the ones who are sent to save the people of the world?
When we speak out about our faith, and people look at us, asking, “Who the heck are you to speak to me?”, this text calls us to think about what our response might be. When people ask us who we are as we proclaim our faith in daily life, what is our response? Do we attempt to claim our place as judge, or are we able to respond with God’s loving presence among us? Do we try to justify ourselves, or are we able to point to Christ? If we are going to strive to point to Christ, then how are we going to say and do that?
Unlike John, when I answered this woman in class, I was not able to point away from myself to Christ. I immediately tried to justify myself and my privilege as leader. I was not able to point to Christ in our midst because the answer is not something to be done on the fly. It is something that we need to think about and prepare beforehand in anticipation of the occasion when we are called to bear witness.
Let us prepare for Christ’s coming, bearing witness to Christ’s first coming in history and anticipating Christ’s coming again. Do we need all kinds of trappings in order to bear witness to Christ or are we able to be “The Voice”? The voice of compassion and hope? The voice of reason in a world of tumultuous uncertainty? The voice of crying in the wilderness to show the way of God’s activity in the world? The voice that rejoices in the Lord always for all God has done and continues to do in our midst? With John, can we be “The Voice” bearing witness to the one who is greater than us—to the way, the truth and the life of all people—praying without ceasing, “Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth as in heaven.”?
Whatever our circumstances, let it be known that the One whom we do not see in our midst is the one who comes and is coming for the sake of the world: In the name of the Father and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Come. Let us worship the Lord.
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