Sermon Archive
The Birth of John the Baptist
Sermon preached by John Armes at Evensong on 23 June 2002
Apparently, as soon as my father was born my grandmother decided that he was to be ordained. She mapped out his education from choir school to university and sure enough ordained he was. And he was a fine priest, so I am told - he died when I was eight so I have little first hand experience.
Nowadays we tend to disapprove of such parental manipulation. Titles, kingdoms even are inherited - the Queen's destiny, for example, was almost inescapable - but for most of us ordinary people we live with the belief that we are free to make out own way and our own decisions.
This was certainly not so in the early middle-ages. Girls and boys would follow the path set by their parents, and were sometimes even given to religious houses where, when they grew up, they took their monastic vows. It was, of course, a time of great piety when all things were truly believed to come from God, and where the greatest calling of the human being was a life devoted to God in prayer and service.
They found confirmation for these values in scripture. They read of Samuel, Hannah?s longed-for child, who was given back to God as a thank-offering to be raised as a servant of the sanctuary. They read of Jeremiah known by God even in his mother's womb - and of Samson whom we heard about in the first reading. He was born to an elderly couple through God?s promise and raised as a Nazirite, that is, one dedicated to the Lord (and who turned our to be prone to acts of genocide and crass stupidity.)
And this evening we celebrate the birth of John the Baptist. Another elderly couple, Zechariah and Elizabeth, live with the reproach and disgrace that they are childless. Their longing for a child is somehow mirrored by Israel's longing for God who seems to have been silent for too long. What has become of the prophets of old, of the assurance that God cares intimately enough to be involved in human experience?
Zechariah, we learn, is a priest. That is, he is a descendent of Aaron and therefore belongs to one of the 24 groups of priests whose task it is to officiate at Temple sacrifices for one week, twice each year. There are more than enough priests so their duties are distributed by lot. The most sought after duty is to enter the sanctuary to burn incense, symbolising the prayers of the people, and to emerge speaking God?s blessing. No priest is permitted to perform this duty more than once in their lives, and many are never chosen. So we can imagine Zechariah's excitement when the lot falls on him.
There he is, honoured by his priestly calling, shamed by his lack of children. At this moment of emotional turbulence an angel comes to call. Apparently their prayer is to be answered and they are to have a son. But amazingly, this son is also to be the answer to prayers of Israel too. For he is to 'turn the hearts of parents to their children'; that is, he is to unify and reawaken the whole nation making it ready for the coming of the Lord. The parallels may be suggestive, but Zechariah's son is to be no Samson. Rather he is to fulfil Malachi's prophecy (4.5f); he is to be the new Elijah.
It is hardly surprising that Zechariah finds the good news rather too good to believe. Is it likely that this old man and woman could produce any child never mind a prophet? Perhaps he even wondered whether all the excitement and intensity has caused him to hallucinate. He is rewarded, for what we might regard as his healthy scepticism, by being struck dumb until he announces that his child is to have the excellent name, John.
The gospels tell us that John grew up to be a famous man, given to a life of self-denial and high ideals. Reading between the lines it seems that he was every bit as famous as Jesus with his own disciples, his own martyrdom for political reasons. He seems to have been influential on Jesus' teaching and ministry. Was Jesus himself perhaps a disciple for a while? Certainly, Jesus only had the highest praise for John. Some of their disciples even thought of the two men as rivals.
The reality is likely to have been far more complex than the gospels report. But it is clear that John and Jesus were two very different characters. John is more world-denying. He lives in the wilderness and shuns normal human society. Jesus, on the other hand, is very much at ease with it. Indeed, you could see within them the two streams of Christian spirituality that have flowed through the centuries. One, from John, that emphasizes judgement and disapproval, and calls people to repentance - that sees the pleasures of the flesh as distractions and snares for the unwary. The other, from Jesus, that promises forgiveness, fulfilment and a delight in the things that delight others. But we should not exaggerate the differences. Both men emphasized the call to a deeper commitment and the opportunity to find true life through self-denial and service.
The messages of both John and Jesus are important. In a world where human wickedness and self-interest oppress the poor, and disregard the weak we need our prophets; in a world where we are damaged by misplaced shame and low self-esteem we need a message of love, hope and salvation. In the gospels one comes before the other, for John the Baptist comes before and prepares the way for Jesus.
What message then are we to take from our reflections on the birth of John the Baptist? Firstly, a spiritual truth: that there is no moment in our lives when God is absent; that God is influential upon us even before we are conceived.
Secondly, a political truth: that this action of God is not confined to the famous or the well-heeled. Manoah and his wife were simple folk. God plays with them leaving them unsure who their visitor is until he disappears into the fire. Zechariah too, although a priest, is a very undistinguished one who has waited for many years for his turn to serve in the sanctuary. But their children were special, they had a particular destiny to fulfil. Does this not tell us something about how we should treat every child from cradle to grave?
Thirdly, a pastoral truth: that as with John the Baptist our lives, though each uniquely important, are not self-contained, they may also point to, lead to, prepare the way for something else. And we do not always know what that might be. When the crunch came even John was not sure that Jesus was the promised one or whether he was to wait for another. But the point is that Jesus was not parachuted into the world to live a life disconnected from others. He was a child of a particular age and culture. He was a Jew whose teachings were alive with allusions to Jewish thought and experience. He inherited the legacy of the prophets; his way was opened for him by John the Baptist, and he in his turn prepares the way for us.
In other words, our lives are given to us and our deepest being is known to God. But our lives are also given to others, to bring them hope and to be part of the intricate pattern of their salvation. We celebrate John the Baptist today because his life was so closely related to that of Jesus. And we can celebrate too, not because he was unlike us but because he confirms for us our own potential.
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