Who John Is, Who I Am, Who We Are

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Marshall, Texas on Sunday December 11, 2011, the 3rd Sunday in Advent.

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Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11

Psalm 126

1Thessalonians 5:16-24

John 1:6-8, 19-28

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer.  Amen

European cathedrals are some of the greatest pieces of architecture the world has ever known. These grand structures served many functions, more than what we think of when we think of the church. They were part worship center, part social place, and even part government center. Grand and majestic, you could see their splendor from a distance. Built upon hilltops their domes and spires met the pilgrim as if to say “welcome home my good and faithful child.”

Their interiors are just as breathtaking. All I have to do is mention the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and we can imagine what most of us have only seen in pictures. We can all imagine the wondrous works of Michelangelo giving their glory to God Almighty. From the iconic image of God giving Adam life to the prophets and the saints, since its creation during the renaissance the Sistine Chapel has been known as one of the greatest achievements in all of art.

Reading a book about preaching,[1] I learned about a painting behind the altar at the convent of the Antonites in Colmar. The Easter section of the painting features Christ stretched out on the cross, and alongside him Mary the mother of Jesus in the arms of the Apostle John and Mary Magdalene kneeling at his feet. There is also a small lamb holding another cross with the cup beneath its breast. Off to the side of this scene is John the Baptist, dressed in camel hair tied with a leather belt, holding scripture and pointing to Jesus. This is an apt image of the Baptist, the one who points to Christ. This, the author writes, is the essence of preaching: Pointing to Christ.

There is a simplicity in this reading from John’s gospel. John’s is often referred to as the most spiritual of the gospels. There are many miracles and signs found reading John’s gospel that we just don’t find in the others, but this reading isn’t miraculous, nor is it spiritual, it’s just plain and simple.

The scribes ask John who he is. While the New International Version isn’t so forward, many other translations are. The priests and Levites came from Jerusalem to ask John “Who are you?”

John begins by telling them who he isn’t. He isn’t the Christ, he isn’t Elijah, and he isn’t the prophet. (By the way, this vaguely named prophet is probably the prophet from Deuteronomy 18; the prophet who will be raised up from among the Israelites who will speak the Lord’s words.) He doesn’t identify with any of these holy references because these references all have messianic expectations and John has no personal messiah complex. Instead he identifies himself with the words of Isaiah. He is the one calling in the desert “Make straight the way for the Lord.”

This is who John is. John isn’t Jesus. John points to Jesus.

Social media has allowed us to share our lives with the rest of the world on unprecedented levels. One of the ways I connect with friends and colleagues is using a platform called Twitter. What separates Twitter from other social media sites is that it limits messages to 140 typed characters. Letters, numbers, spaces, punctuation—if you can say it in 140 characters you can say it on Twitter.

Twitter encourages you to describe yourself to the world, again using only a few characters. I describe myself saying, “Child of God, Husband of Marie, Teller of Tales, Fortunate Son.” I know that this isn’t a fleshed out description, but I also figure it’s not bad for 62 characters including spaces.

I am Marie’s husband, this week with Toni (Marie’s mother) visiting that role has been very important.

My entire family is known for stories and story telling so telling tales is one of the ways I describe myself. My older sister occasionally finds people who know my grandmother’s family from California, Missouri. One woman when discovering the family connection said, “So you’re one of those #$&! Hert’s. Well, it’s true and for better or worse I am one of those #$&! Hert’s. We have tales to tell and are willing to tell them.

The church, the denomination, calls me a Teaching Elder. This title has been recently been reclaimed by the church for what we used to call Ministers of the Word and Sacrament. There are many hats worn by pastors, but the one which I am perhaps best equipped to wear is this one, teaching, sharing the word of God with the people of God. When I look at who I am, when I look at what my role is, I move toward the image of John—I point to Christ.

This is important to me. When I talk too much about the denomination I suffer from navel-gazing. When I talk too much about myself I inflict a cult-of-personality on you, which is neither what you deserve nor what God expects. Some of this is necessary, because ministry is always carried out in the context of the community and its people; but if it is not first about God then it is about what Ecclesiastes calls vanity.

Today I began by talking about the great cathedrals of European because one of the pities of the church is that many of these great churches are little more than just buildings today. There is a history of worship and service that has been lost in the thousands of years since the death and resurrection. Many are simple tourist attractions that have little to do with their intended purpose. Christianity in Europe has been taking a beating over the past 100 years.

Where Christianity has thrived in Europe is in the countries we call the Eastern Bloc, the countries where Christianity and Christians were oppressed by the state. In those places the people needed the church; the people needed the community of Christ. In the more affluent places, places where the church seemed to be more of an add-on to life, it is declining.

This isn’t so surprising when you look at the heritage of the faith. In ancient Rome the Hebrews were troublemakers. The Christians were troublemaker’s troublemakers. One group was oppressed by the empire and the other was oppressed by the oppressed. This helps us look at who we are, who the church is today.

The Rev. Bruce Reyes-Chow was the 218^th Moderator of the Presbyterian Church (USA)’s General Assembly. Bruce had what he considers the enviable position that the conservative arm of the church thought he was too liberal and the liberal arm of the church didn’t think he wasn’t as liberal as he should be given his position. He considered it an honor that nobody thought of him as “their standard bearer.”[2]

He recently wrote an article called “Dear God, I Would Like My Presbyterian Church (USA) Back.”[3] One of the things he does is articulate what the each of the extreme branches of the church thinks is wrong with the other. He notes that one branch of the church misses the “Father Knows Best” era of American Christianity and in particular the PC(USA) while the other misses the wildly progressive era of change that was a highlight in the 1960’s.

Bruce doesn’t poo-poo the anger that either group feels. He doesn’t brush away their feelings with platitudes. He acknowledges that the church is changing. The body we call the church, the denomination in particular, is changing.

What Bruce points out is that “The Good Ol’ Days” is a trap. The church we identify as “ours” has never been “ours.” The Church of Christ is just that, the Church of Christ. It’s God’s church, it’s not ours. And as long as the church complains and debates the quality of witness it doesn’t have a witness to Christ, but only to itself.

As the church we need to remember in the changing seas of life, some things remain steady. For us, for the church these things include the community bathed in the waters of our baptism. These things include the feeding of the community by the body and blood of Christ, symbolized by good gifts of the bread and cup of the Lord’s Supper celebrated together in what we call Holy Communion.

We are called to remember Christ came to save and serve the world and we serve Christ by helping with this mission. We don’t save, but we point to salvation. We point individually as the people of God and we point together as the church of Christ; just the way John did 2,000 years ago.

So this is who John is. This is who I am. This is who we are. We are the people who point to Christ. We point to Christ who is coming. Advent means coming. We don’t do this with messianic expectations of our own. We do this because Jesus is the Messiah, Jesus is the Christ. Today in a sermon preview, the children and youth pointed to Christ in drama and song. Let us take their words and point to Christ in our word and action too.

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[1] Willimon, William, “Conversations with Barth on Preaching.” Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2006

[2] Paraphrase from his introduction at a “Moderator Meets the Presbytery” event in Springfield, Missouri.

[3][3] Reyes-Chow, Bruce, “Dear God, I Would Like My Presbyterian Church (USA) Back” http://reyes-chow.com/2011/12/my-presbyterian-church/, retrieved December 9, 2011.