by Reid Matthias
In the Book of Mark, he is described this way: ‘And so John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness, preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. The whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem went out to him. Confessing their sins, they were baptised by him in the River Jordan. John wore clothing made of camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist and he ate locusts and wild honey. And this was his message: “After me comes the one more powerful than I, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. I baptise you with water, but he will baptise with the Holy Spirit.”’
For some reason, my brain connects so much more with the visual of this Grizzly Adams-type mountain man wearing a tunic of camel’s hair and eating grasshoppers dipped in a bowlful of honey. Imagine one of John’s after-hours parties – all the countryside and all the people of Jerusalem are out to hang out with him, the celebrity, and he says, ‘Hey, can someone pass the crickets? I’ve got the munchies’.
But he is a celebrity, it seems. He wanders in the wilderness, preparing an opportunity for one who is greater than he is, one more powerful, one who can do much more than baptise with what little water can be found in the wilderness.
He is coming. And we believe, because they (celebrities) inhabit our minds through a screen. Celebrity is as celebrity does, as Forrest Gump should have said.
John the Baptist can’t escape the celebrity status that he has gathered, but with it comes great responsibility. And, unlike present-day stardom, he is not drawing the light to himself. There is no self-aggrandisement, no braggadocio, no false sense that he thinks to himself, ‘Maybe I should think a little closer about my own sense of power’.
He recognises that there is someone greater than he is and his job, as foretold by his own father, Zechariah, in Luke 1:76–79: ‘And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the most high; for you will go on before the Lord to prepare a way for him, to give his people the knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of sins, because of the tender mercy of our God, by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven, to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the path of peace.’
What incredible poetry (this is entitled ‘Zechariah’s Song’)! He is singing about his child’s future right after he is born and with the vivid understanding that his son has a role in showing God’s mercy, whose light shines down from heaven …
And guides our feet into the path of peace.
Isn’t that what we all want this Christmas? It seems like every Christmas I profess peace with my mouth, but it is still far from my heart. I wander around in a trance-like state, thinking about ‘Christmassy’ things, and yet the gift that I truly want is one that John brings to us first and foremost.
Peace on earth, goodwill to all people.
We’re not told much about John’s early life – only what Luke recalls after Zechariah’s Song: ‘And the child grew and became strong in the Spirit; and he lived in the wilderness until he appeared publicly to Israel.’
Can you imagine the frustration of both Elizabeth and Zechariah at mealtime every night?
Elizabeth: Zechy, have you seen John? He’s supposed to be washing up for supper.
Zechariah: (shaking his head) Last time I saw him, he was by himself, heading out into the hills.
Elizabeth: What does he do out there anyway?
Zechariah: Who knows? I tried to find him once, follow his tracks, but they always lead to beehives.
Elizabeth: What?
Zechariah: I have no idea. My guess is he likes honey. Good thing his metabolism is still working. Wait until
he gets our age. He’ll have to hit the YMJA (Young Men’s Judean Association) and work off some of that desert fat.
Elizabeth: Well, I suppose it’s true. He never seems to
be hungry when he gets home. I just hope he is getting enough protein.
I would have loved to have heard what Elizabeth and Zechariah would have said when he showed up with grasshopper wings stuck in his teeth!
But the Scripture says that John lived in the wilderness. He wandered and waited for something. Perhaps he really didn’t know what that would be or what that would look like. Maybe John just assumed that he was destined for nomadism and that after his parents passed on, it was only natural to think – just like the rest of the Jews living under Roman thumb – that God had forgotten them.
In St Luke’s Gospel we read: ‘During the priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John, son of Zechariah, in the wilderness. He went into all the country around the Jordan, preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins’ (Luke 3:2,3).
John went from place to place and talked about that which would set the people’s feet on the path of peace: forgiveness of sins. Here is the place where, in our spiritual lives, we find crooked paths of jealousy, rough roads of hatred and soaring mountains of pride. When baptism occurs, those potholes are filled in, and sin ceases to have power over our salvation (or damnation, as it were), because the power of Christ allows us to be ‘baptised into a death like his’, which gives us life with him.
It was in this wandering that John encountered the word of God at long last. Perhaps on a quiet morning when he least expected it, and at the perfect time, God beckoned in his own way to this rugged man of the wilderness, and said, ‘Dearest John, I’ve got a plan, and I need you near the front and centre for a while’.
For this man who wandered, life would never be the same – and for one who wandered by himself, great crowds would probably have caused him great stress.
But it is in the wandering that perhaps all of us can encounter God and the call to something bigger than ourselves – to allow the light of Christ to reflect off of us to show others One who is greater than us. In this way, even in the midst of the struggle of making the path straight for God this Christmas, we might encounter the path to peace.
Reid Matthias is the school pastor at St Andrews Lutheran College in Tallebudgera, Queensland. This article was originally published as ‘Advent II – The Wandering’ on his online blog https://ireid.blogspot.com
