Like a crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing...
In the name...
Many years ago, when I was an engineering student at Georgia Tech, I worked for a year at Dow Chemical in Michigan. During that time, I had to spend the winter in the Upper Peninsula at Sault Ste. Marie. Surrounded by Lake Superior, Lake Michigan, and Lake Huron, I got a pretty good idea of what lake effect snow was all about.
I can remember how it would snow nonstop for days on end, piling up, making me feel like I was being buried alive. And how there was nothing but snow all around for four solid months. Then one March day it happened. The roads were finally completely clear of slush. They were dry. I never thought I'd see that again.
Sure there was still snow on the ground, but dry roads! This called for a celebration, so I was going to go for a drive. I went out to get going, cranked up the car...and nothing. My battery, which had served me so well all winter, was dead.
I couldn't believe it. I was so angry. I got out of the car, threw opened the hood, and stood there looking at the battery like my anger would charge it up. Then I started marching back to my apartment to call the tow truck. Man, I was steamed. And as I was stomping back, I looked over in the snow, and there was this little crocus just popping up, a beautiful purple crocus.
So I went over to it, looked at its beauty, lifted up my boot, and smashed it into the ground!!! And went to call that tow truck.
Finally, the truck came, and I stood out there as he did his thing to take me and my car to the garage. As he worked, I started looking around, and I noticed them, everywhere...crocuses, popping up. I hadn't seen them before; I was too mad. But there they were. Beautiful purples and blues and whites. Tiny little bloosoms, reaching up out of the snow, letting us know that a better time is on the way. It may still seem cold now, but before you know it – new life! And nothing can stop it. Not another snowfall...and not the boot of a hot headed young man.
I've been thinking a lot about John the Baptist this Advent. Usually, I don't think of him at all. John the Baptist has always been a disappointment to me. He's kind of an underdeveloped secondary character in a novel. He begins by kicking his mother in the womb; he yells at a bunch of people in the river; then he gets his head cut off. He could have had such a large role, being Jesus' second in command, but he fades. But for some reason, I've been thinking more about him this Advent.
Today, John is sitting in prison, having doubts. What was it all for, he wonders. Was it worth it? Was I on the right track?
He sure got people's attention. Last week he was standing in the middle of the Jordan River, yelling at everyone, “Repent! Repent!” And people were streaming to him to repent. I wonder if he thought about those people. I wonder if he wondered what they were repenting of. I'm willing to lay money on the line that those people who were coming down to the river weren't repenting of the big things. I'd bet that it wasn't a crowd of murderers and thieves streaming down. They don't do that sort of thing usually. And frankly, if I were John the Baptist, and hundreds of murders and thieves started gathering around me, I'd probably get another line of work. So, it probably wasn't them.
But I bet there were a few commandment breakers, here and there, in the crowd. Maybe A murder. Maybe a few thieves. A few adulterers. A bunch of coveters. Some idolaters. Some other sinners. And maybe they repented. But the more I thought about John, and the more I thought about the crowd, it began to dawn on me. I'm misunderstanding repentance completely. Or I'm missing something that I've always missed. But now, maybe I'm getting it. Maybe I'm getting John.
You see, I think that repentance IS about turning away from those bad things we do. But repentance is ALSO turning away from refusing to DO those things we ought to do. I'll bet most of those people coming to John were repenting of lives of apathy, of selfcentered-ness...not lives of evil and wickedness, but lives of unfulfilled joy and untapped love. Of lives that just sit on idle and never move. Of lives of potential that never become lives of action.
I think I would find myself right at home in this kind of crowd. I think all of us would from time to time. I mean, I've never murdered anyone, but I don't always stand up for others.
I don't always covet, but I don't always fight for justice and equality either.
I don't steal, but I don't always give.
I don't blaspheme, but I don't always praise.
And now I can understand that what John shouts to all those at the Jordan, he shouts to me, too. “Bear fruit!” he says. “Do something,” he means. “Do something worthy of the humanity you've been blessed with. Repent!”
And now John is sitting there in prison, wondering whether it was all worth it. And Jesus hears him and says, “Yes, John...yes, it was worth it all along. And it's worth it now. You have shown them. You have shown them true repentance. Because they are turning...they are turning to follow me.”
Because, friends, that's what repentance is with Jesus. That's what repentance is. Jesus brings the Gospel to the poor...so that I can turn and honor their humanity.
Jesus raises the dead... so I can turn and see the spark of divinity in others.
Jesus heals the deaf ...so that I can turn and hear the cries of those in need.
Jesus cleanses the lepers ...so that I can turn and reach out and touch others in kindness.
Jesus cures the lame... so that I can turn and walk this journey with others in love.
And Jesus gives sight to the blind... so that I can turn and see those I don't see, those I've overlooked.
Those beautiful crocuses that we all ignore or walk past or stomp on or think are just too small to matter. Those beautiful people that matter because they belong to God, just like everything belongs to God. Those little glories of God popping up in the cold winter of our lives here and there, fighting for our attention in a world of distractions. Sitting there, in silent beauty, right at our feet. Blessing us by pointing the way. Pointing the way of Advent, pointing the way to that new miracle of Jesus that happens all the time, pointing to a brighter season, just around the corner. A season of God's love. A season of love.
Amen.