Preaching text: Luke 3:7-18
I’ve been seeing this meme show up on Facebook a lot this week. It plays to one of those little games we pastors like to play with our congregations, taking a moment to poke fun at our people by using John the Baptist’s rather harsh words. Of course, y’all are not a brood of vipers. That’s the joke.
And you wouldn’t have been back then either, if somehow we could all jump into a time machine and travel back to those days. John doesn’t launch into this insult until after he starts seeing the Pharisees and other officials start showing up at the Jordan to receive his baptism. Ordinary everyday folk met a very different John than those “important people.”
Now if we had decided to take along in our time machine someone like Donald Trump or Bill Gates, Nancy Pelosi or Elon Musk, Franklin Graham or Pope Frances, we might see the nastier John after all. If we had as guests the power players in government, industry, and religion, John would probably not be happy with us. And that gives us a good clue as to why John throws the insult in the first place: These are the people that should know better. They’re the ones in charge. They’re the ones who’ve been given power and responsibility. And what have they done with it to help the people?
You and I could probably debate all day over that very question. But the fact that there’s a debate implies that these leaders have often not lived up to the expectations set for them by society. They may or may not have tried to do good. They may or may not be sincere when they say they want to serve the people. All that is open to interpretation, often guided by our own biases and opinions. But in John’s day it was far more clear cut. Leaders back then hoarded wealth and power, taught false teachings to justify their behavior, made exceptions for themselves in the laws, and did far more to help themselves than any of the ordinary everyday folk that needed the help. They were indeed a brood of vipers.
So how does one not become a viper in John’s eyes? Well, he tells us. “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise...Tax collectors...Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you. Soldiers...Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.” These instructions, while quite specific to John’s audience, give us the first glimpse of what Jesus will call the Kingdom of God. If someone is in need, help them. Give of your abundance. Take no more than you need. Be generous, compassionate, and humble.
And that’s precisely what Jesus does when he comes on the scene. When he encounters the sick, he reaches out to heal them. He makes the lame to talk, the blind to see. When people are hungry, he takes bread and fish and multiplies it so that even upwards of 5000 people can be fed to satisfaction. He casts out demons, gives honor to women and children and outcasts and lepers. And he commends those who follow him to do likewise.
And, of course, that now falls to us. What would we do if we had gone back in our time machine back to the Jordan of 30 AD and heard John give these instructions and exhortations? What would we do when we came home to December 2018 in York County?
Luke says that what John is preaching is “good news” at the conclusion of this text. A lot of what John says doesn’t sound like good news to me. It’s harsh and demanding. But those in need, it’s like water in the desert. And while we are not the movers and shakers of society, we are not those who “should know better” as John implies by his insults, we do have much to offer in a world that desperately needs a taste of hope.
The Gospel is just words until we make it real for people. You can tell someone “God loves you” until you are blue in the face and it won’t matter if they’re starving, homeless, brokenhearted, alone, hated, and lost. But give them food, a roof over the head. Give them companionship, acceptance, and a sympathetic ear, and suddenly “God loves you” isn’t so abstract anymore. It becomes real. Why? Because it is easier to believe God loves you when you know one of his followers loves you.
That’s really what John is trying to tell us. Love people. Help people. Give to people who need. Do what the Messiah is going to do or, to us who live 2000 years later, do as the Messiah did. Jesus showed people how much they mattered to God, that their lives were worth something. John the Baptist was just kick starting all that, showing people the way the Messiah would take. When he shows up, this is what you’re going to see. This is how the world will start to work.
Well, John is long gone and Jesus has long since ascended back into heaven. But their vision of a new world is now our inheritance as Christians. What are we going to do with it?
We are now a little more than a week away from Christmas, the one holiday our society dedicates almost universally to these ideals of compassion, generosity, and companionship. And there’s always those sentimentalists who lament “Why can’t we have Christmas all year round?” I’m not particularly keen on the saccharine nostalgia that often fuels such ideas, but I do like the idea of making compassion, generosity, grace, mercy, peace, companionship, and love virtues we practice every day of our lives. Can we do that? Can we show the world the Kingdom of God? John shows us the way. Jesus lived the way. What can we do? Amen.
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