Isaiah 11:1-10
Matthew 3:1-11The Fruits and the Fire
by Adam Blons
December 9, 2001
You may remember a few Christmases ago, a simple toy called Tickle Me Elmo appeared on the shelves of toy stores and caused great chaos. This was a shaggy red stuffed Sesame Street monster who simply let out his signature high pitched giggle when you squeezed his belly. Everyone was talking about him. Children were singing their typical refrains, "I just have to have Elmo." "This is the toy I've been waiting my whole life for." "Everyone is going to have one." So, thousands of parents and grandparents, wanting their children to have THE Christmas present of 1996, made their way to find a Tickle Me Elmo.
No one was prepared for the scene that developed at toy stores across the nation. As the supply of Elmos dwindled, parents began to get frustrated, making one unsuccessful trip after another. That's when things started to get ugly. Initially motivated by their child's desire for Elmo, these normally civilized adults were now possessed by the single-minded urgency of trying to be one of the few to get the toy. Some drove hundreds of miles just to be there when the toy store opened, hoping to get this most prized Christmas gift. There were many stories of mob scenes and even toy store employees being injured by groups of anxious shoppers. All for little Elmo, who just laughed. You can imagine the sound of his giggle mixed with angry demands for Elmo and arguments over the last one on the shelf. It was as if he was enjoying all the attention. Or maybe he was laughing at us. Apparently, offers up to $7500 were made for the $25 Elmo up until Christmas Day. Maybe he was laughing at the craze because he knew the irony of the situation--that he wasn't really worth the hype. He knew that after Christmas, he would just be another toy on the shelf, forgotten by Valentine's Day and sold in a garage sale by August. Or maybe, he knew that next year's Christmas would bring an even better toy–a toy promising something more than a giggle. Perhaps he knew that we would race around again to get THE Christmas gift of 1997–the Furby! Maybe he laughed at our foolishness--at how easily we can be tempted by fads and hype. For me, his laugh was like a voice in the wilderness of Christmas consumption, calling our attention to our heightened sense of urgency about everything during this season.
Maybe you were not caught up in the Tickle Me Elmo craze, but I am sure each of us knows the pressures of this season and faces our own challenges. Whether stressed by end of the year responsibilities at work or by family dynamics, there are always high expectations at this time of year. This year there is even more urgency around Christmas as we cannot escape the long shadows of terrorism and war. Painfully aware of our broken world, we are in need of a reason to hope. The joy of the season is tempered not only by our attempts to survive our deadlines, shopping lists and parties, but also by the confusion and fear we feel about our losses this year.
I sense this same kind of urgency from the people running out to find John. I imagine they are looking for relief from their chaotic lives living under Roman rule. Like the longing words of Isaiah, they hope for safety and justice and peace. There was generation after generation of waiting, with many false hopes along the way. You can imagine the buzz over John, whose rugged appearance and anxious message reminded everyone of the great prophets. We often look for seers during anxious times to help us out of our confusion.
When our anxiety is high, our common response is to try and simplify. You know the holiday strategies that have worked for you. Have you heard yourself say, "You know, maybe I'll just get the same gift for everyone this year." Or, "I'll just have one party and invite all my friends, rather than go to everyone else's parties." During this anxious and confusing time, we are looking to have at least one simple decision. John appealed to this desire, presenting a clear and foreboding choice to the people who came to him, "Repent for the Kingdom of Heaven has come near." He tells them to either produce fruits worthy of repentance or face the fire. Such strong words must have fed the frenzy of the people, fueling the anxiety of some while providing a great release for others. It is certain that John baptized many in the river. With so much at stake in his words, how are we to take his call for repentance and his proclamation of God drawing near?
It is no coincidence that the first words that Jesus speaks at the beginning of his ministry in Matthew 4:17 are, "Repent for the Kingdom of heaven has come near!" This message is central to understanding Jesus' ministry, according to Matthew - the redemption of a lost and conflict-ridden group of God's people. More than just helping Matthew make his point, however there is wisdom in this phrase as it suggests the dynamics of our relationship with God.
"Repent for the Kingdom of Heaven has come near." There are two actions in this message. First, there is our act of repentance. Now if you are like me, you bristle a little when you hear the word repent. This is one of those loaded words to which it is difficult for some of us to relate. I imagine that some people who encountered John at the river were uncomfortable with repentance as well. Perhaps this is because its meaning is linked with our ideas about sin or feeling forced to admit that we are bad people. Are we uncomfortable because it no longer has any meaning for us, or because we think it means too much? It certainly isn't because we have become so certain of ourselves that there is no room for mistakes or apologies. When I look at the state of national and global political affairs, I see many "broods of vipers," whose self-righteousness has cost thousands of lives. There are a few leaders that I would like to see repent for their costly shortsightedness. And what about us? Certainly we are aware of our own shortsightedness.
No, I think our discomfort comes from the ultimate urgency we sense in these either/or images of the fruit and the fire. We all want to experience God's love more deeply for ourselves and see it transform the world just like Isaiah did, but we also resist change. We feel threatened by the spiritual consequences John suggests. We know we don't want the fire, but we know that we must let go of something when we repent. We wonder, will it just be our bad habits, will it be our freedom, or does it mean letting go of something more--our identity or the center of our very lives. It is easy to understand the fear that letting go can produce.
John's warning carries a second action suggesting that it is not all up to us. Our act of repentance has a context. Whatever we give up is not lost to God, who meets us even before our confession, even before our baptism, even before our invitations or acts of faith. John asks for our repentance, not as a condition for our participation in the Reign of God, but as a response to the fact that God has already come near. "Repent for the Kingdom of God has come near!" Motivated by a love not satisfied with waiting for a personal invitation, God is always charging toward us–reaching out to our lives. The birth of Jesus signifies not a passive love, but rather an active love, a persuasive and alluring love. The birth of Jesus assures us that God is trying to reach out to us with at least the same kind of single-minded urgency as a parent, searching for THE Christmas gift for their beloved child. It is God's urgency to be born in us that makes us uncomfortable with repentance. For we know that welcoming God into the world means welcoming change–letting the very centers of our lives transform. When we trust that our God is good, then we can trust that the Reign of God will be full of goodness allowing us to let God come again to us.
During the urgency of this Advent season, as you navigate long lines, shopping lists and the quest for wonderful gifts, remember that God is urgently coming into our lives. God's love for each of you goes so deep that God will continue to search you out and look for ways to break through to you, even when there is no time, no space, no room at the inn. This is the fulfillment of the prophecies regarding the Emmanuel–God with us. Amen.
Copyright © 2001, First Congregational Church of Berkeley