The other day I was looking at Christmas ornaments and one caught my eye. It was a cute little hand-crafted garbage dumpster painted to look like it was fire, with 2024 written on the side. What a strange ornament to hang on a tree during this season celebrating hope and joy!
If you’re not familiar with it, the phrase “dumpster fire” is a relatively new having been officially added to the oxford dictionary in 2018 – it means “a complete disaster” or “an utterly calamitous or mismanaged situation.” Often used to describe the state of the world, the state of the internet, or the state of politics and leadership, “dumpster fire” is shorthand for “I don’t even have words to describe how bad this is.” We all choose our Christmas ornaments for different reasons, but my sense is that putting a miniature flaming dumpster with the year on it is a bit of a cheeky nod to say “this year was ROUGH. And yet here we are are…we made it through.”
I don’t need to get into a long list of details about WHY the state of the world can feel like a dumpster fire, or an utterly calamitous situation… we are all fairly well versed in the wars, the poverty, the racism, the tragic and unexpected deaths, the endless COVID rounds, the hunger, the homophobia…. Both on the other side of the world, and right here in our own community. With our access to information these days it takes a concerted effort to NOT hear about terrible things going on … and sometimes it can feel so completely overwhelming. It is completely overwhelming. Although it can feel like things have never in the history of humanity been THIS uniquely bad, our holy texts and other stories that have been passed down through the generations remind us that indeed they have been bad before. The phrase dumpster fire may be new, but unfortunately chaos and pain and injustice and fear have echoed through the ages.
Wow. What a GRIM start to an advent sermon! That was less than hopeful and joyful. Stick with me friends, I promise I will get to hope and joy in a minute.
Today’s scripture is an Advent classic – John the Baptist out in the wilderness, telling the people that there is hope coming. That Jesus is coming. That God’s kingdom, a kingdom of justice and love and equity, would enter this world and offer a different life than the violence and oppression of Rome and Caesar. The crowds that flocked to him from the city gathered to hear his good news had lives that were incredibly difficult, touched by violence, hunger and fear. They yearned for something better, and that was John’s promise – a promise that the Holy One was indeed coming into their lives.
Now if you’re scratching your head and thinking “wait a minute, I thought John the Baptist was the son of Elizabeth and wasn’t she pregnant at the same time as Mary, who has yet to give birth”, you’re not wrong. Sometimes when the church year and the Biblical timeline meet they collapse in on themselves. John was, in fact, born just before Jesus – they would have been roughly the same age – separated by months not years – and both grew to be prophets and leaders in their own right at about the same time. John had a huge group of followers, and within that group there were some who wondered (sometimes out loud) if John was the Messiah. When he heard the mumbling, John was quick to tell them that he wasn’t, that his job was simply to point to Jesus. When John’s ministry lead to his arrest and eventual execution, his followers joined Jesus’ throng.
So why read this text about grown up John out preaching in the wilderness, mere weeks before we celebrate the birth of Christ – when we know that John would have just been a baby himself at this point in the narrative? Well, the thing about the readings and their place in the church year is that they often prioritizes the mystery or the drama of the story over the chronological story line. In advent when we receive the gifts of hope, peace, joy and love, we are reminded that there’s a reason we so desperately need these readings out of sequence. It’s because the world can sometimes feel, well, out of sorts, and here were’ back to the dumpster fire, and like I said earlier, this isn’t a new feeling. Surprisingly, we are not experiencing the worse the world has ever been (although it certainly can feel like it some days.) When we crack open the text and look to the stories of our faith ancestors have passed on, every one of them has been about struggle and fear and grief. And in each of those stories are reminders of how God walked with the people (with us) and companioned them through those times.
So that’s why in December, when the stores are sparkly and cheery Christmas music floats out of speakers, we Christians, decide to take a decidedly counter cultural moment to remember that Jesus came into this world not because it was perfect, shiny, loving, or kind already – but that Jesus came because 2000 years ago… you guessed it…the world was kind of a dumpster fire. The best thing we can do when we see and feel the world is sliding sideways is to remember that collectively this isn’t our first rodeo. Humanity has been through this before and made it through … with God’s never failing help.
John’s out there in his locust and honey era, excitedly telling the crowds the good news he knows – God’s child is on his way. And the best way to get ready for the Messiah? Well this is when he teaches about “metanoia” – the Greek word for “repentance” or as we might say today “shaping up”. The crowd, a bunch of eager learners, want to know how to do that. This leads to the fun little back and forth where John addresses three different groups.
First he responds to the crowds – the general population of farmers, shepherds, fisher folk, everyday people doing their best to get by. To these folk he says “give to those in need and don’t live in excess”
The group is the tax collectors – men (mostly) who worked on behalf of Rome and often known for taking a little cut of what they collected for themselves. When John responds to them, he’s very pointedly speaking to those who deceive and take advantage of others for their own gain. To them he commands fairness and justice.
The third and final group that seeks John’s advice on how to transform their lives is the soldiers. It’s actually surprising that they are even in the crowd as they were strictly employed to protect all things Empire. The presence of soldiers in the crowd acts as a reminder that there were Romans who were also seeking the kind of peace that only God could give. When John responds to them, he knows he is speaking directly to the representatives of Roman power. John turns to them, rebuking the misuse of power and control, calling out all the specific practices of extortion and false accusation. When John the Baptist calls for repentance among all the various segments of the population, he is primarily concerned about economic disparities and abuses of power. When he talks about “sin” he’s not talking about the little grudges we carry and the mistakes that we make or our moral failings of individuals – he’s not worried about that.
So, what is he worried about? If we shift our thinking around what he is calling us to do, we see that he is actually calling us to address those very same economic disparities and abuses of power in order to bring the world closer to God’s dreams of the kingdom of heaven… that’s a relief right? A source of hope, right? If John is telling us that Jesus doesn’t care so much about my moral failings, isn’t concerned about the little temptations I give into and the lies I’ve told myself and others, the Messiah doesn’t really care about the promises I’ve broken, or the days I was a jerk or when I yelled at my kids….well, that kinda lets me off the hook. Now that feels good….
Not really… for in some ways it is much harder, isn’t it? How on earth do WE address economic disparities and abuses of power in the world? How I am supposed to do that? How are WE going to do that? There is so much going on in every corner of this planet, even if I worked every waking moment of my life and I lived to 120 years old my actions would be miniscule drop in the proverbial ocean and likely change very little, right? And when I think about that, I sink into despair and wish it was as easy as just trying to love others better and not yell at my kids….
Rev. Nadia Bolz Weber pinpointed the reason for this feeling of overwhelm and despair when she wrote: “I don’t think the human psyche was developed to be able to hold all the information that’s available to us right now – in terms of every form of injustice and violence and human suffering that happens all across the planet. Our psyches were developed to be able to hold whatever suffering happened in our village. We can handle that, we can extend ourselves emotionally to that. But how do we extend ourselves emotionally towards every sing form of it across the planet? We can’t. And so we need to trust that not everything is ours to care about. It doesn’t mean it’s not worthy to be cared about by someone, but I constantly ask myself, ‘what is mine to do? And what’s somebody else’s?’ It feels callous, but we can’t hold it all.”
In this church season of expectant hope, we remember that the good we do in the world has ripple effects beyond what we can see. We alone as individuals, or as this church or this community, cannot save the world – but as the star rises above the stable, we turn toward the One who invites us into this work and who is with us as we do it, and we ask ourselves “what is mine to do?” knowing that we cannot do it all – but we can do something, and it will matter.
When approached by various community members – each grappling with their role in a society marked by so many injustices – John the Baptist gives practical advice that speaks across centuries. To the crowds, he said, “Share what you have.” To the tax collectors: “Take no more than your due.” To the soldiers: “Do no harm in pursuit of personal gain.” To each of them and each of us: “Do what is YOURS to do.”
And, perhaps more importantly, after John answers all their questions, he shares a second piece of wisdom – he points the people toward Jesus. We labour in vain if try to rely solely on our own strength to get the job done. We need to lean into God’s presence to do the work that is ours to do.
This Advent, in the quiet spaces of our hearts, where God’s still, small voice speaks, we are called to discern what it is that is ours to do. Frederick Buechner calls this “the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet,” and we can discover this by considering what specific opportunities we have to contribute to our community. What makes you come alive? How does that meet a need? We are all called to participate in God’s restorative story – a plan set in motion from the creation of the stars, a plan that we celebrate this time each year, knowing that we are God’s beloved, and we are all a blessing to this world as we show up and participate in the story that moves us ever closer to God’s dream for us and the world. Amen.
