Rev. George Miller
Dec 17, 2017
John 1:19-28
Years ago I became a fan of “The No.1 Ladies’ Detective Agency” book series by Alexander McCall Smith.
Set in Botswana, it features a woman named Precious Ramotswe who runs her own detective agency.
The books are gentle forms of testimony to what it’s like to live in a place in which you feel privileged to be a part of.
A place in which the tinkling of cow bells can be heard, one always has time for friends and family, and true happiness comes from knowing who you are and honoring where you came from.
Every November I look forward to the newest installment, and this year’s 18th book, titled “The House of Unexpected Sisters” was no disappointment.
Each day of reading was like being with a dear, dear friend I’ve grown to know and love. How Precious adores the mini white van she drives, how pumpkin is her favorite food, and red bush tea is her beverage of choice.
How proud she is to know that her husband is the most honest mechanic in the city, and her late father was the best cattleman in the country.
So it was a bit of a shock when towards the end of the book, an important chunk of information comes out that changes everything Precious, and we the reader, ever knew about her.
It is a moment that the author handles so well and you don’t see coming.
Precious Ramotswe, who usually speaks so eloquently and clear, is not able to finish her sentences. She can’t finish her tea. She refuses her husband’s company, saying over and over again “My heart is broken.”
The author creates a deeply moving scene in which we, the reader, journey with Precious to the grave of her parents.
We feel her sorrow. We feel her loss. We see the sun, the sky, and the headstones before her.
She speaks to her parents the words she needs to say to confront her new reality. The author does not tell us what she says, because he knows that we know what is being said.
Instead of English, she speaks in Setswana, the language of her people, because that is the language her ancestors would understand.
This scene has haunted me all week because of its simple eloquence, and how well it deals with the issues of reality, and identity.
Who we are.
Who are we?
These same issues emerge beside the Jordan River in today’s story.
Here we have another account of the beginning of the Good News of Jesus Christ.
John the Baptist is out in the wilderness, baptizing folk in the waters when he is confronted by religious leaders wanting to know “Who are you?”
Like the Caterpillar from “Alice in Wonderland” they ask this rather existential question again and again.
“Who are you?”
-“I am not the Messiah.”
“What then? Are you Elijah?”
-“No, I am not.”
“Who are you? Answer us; what do you have to say?”
It’s a rather interesting interaction.
“Who are you?”
Like an earworm, this question seemed to penetrate my mind.
Then a thought occurred- what if this question, being posed to John the Baptist beside the river’s waters nearly 2,000 years ago, is being posed to us, near Lake Jackson, today?
What if this is the author’s attempt to reach out to us, across time and space, to ask us the very same question-
“Who are you?”
One of the oldest questions of the ages-
Who are we? What are we about? What is our purpose? Why are we here? Why are any of us here?
Books have been written about this. Philosophies created over it. People have lost hours of sleep pondering these questions late into the night.
“Who are you?”
John is asked these questions while he stands by the water’s edge, and he is clear in his identity.
He is not the Messiah. He is not Elijah. He is not ‘the prophet.’
Who is he?
He says that he is a voice, a testimony, a witness crying out in the bleak, bad wilderness that something greater, something good is about to happen.
There is power in John’s ability to articulate who he is, and who he is not.
And in a metaphysical timey-wimey way, John can also be speaking for us.
After all- who wants to be the Messiah? Who wants to be the Savior of the World?
Who wants to carry the weight and worry of always having to save and rescue and heal the woes of everybody?
How many folk here have ever played the role of Savior or are currently playing it?
Done that. Tried it. No thanks. Being a Messiah is too much work and gets you no reward.
Who wants to be Elijah? Talk about work!
Always having a king to stand before, always having priests to contend with, droughts and starving widows to deal with, and having words of judgment to speak.
Not to mention Elijah was supposed to return when the end of the world was near.
Who’d want that job? “Guess what folks? The clock is set to stop ticking!”
“Who are you?” John is asked while standing besides the river, and essentially he states “I am a voice. I am a witness to the Lord Jesus Christ.”
One theologian stated that John gets to give testimony that a new reality is about to begin.
Another scholar stated that John has the privilege of introducing Jesus to the nation.
I like this. This notion of privilege.
That John is not the Messiah, he is not Elijah, but he has an important purpose, and he has the privilege to introduce Jesus to the people.
Have we ever stopped to think of our faith that way?
That as Christians, as members of Emmanuel UCC, we have the privilege to introduce Jesus to the people.
We don’t have to be Jesus. We don’t have to take on all the stress of being the Son of God.
But we get the privilege to introduce Jesus to others.
Privilege.
It is a privilege to be able to worship together, in this holy space and this holy time. Not because we must, but because we may.
Privilege.
It is a privilege to serve the community side by side. To gather in the Fellowship Hall to bag groceries; to meet tomorrow to hand out 180 Christmas baskets, not because we must, but because we may.
Privilege.
It is a privilege to share our resources, to share our time, our talents, and our tithes, not because we must, but because we may.
Privilege.
Because we know who we are; and we know who we are not.
Oh, it feels so good, it feels so freeing when we can stand beside the waters of our baptism and accept the fact that we are not the Messiah, we are not the Son of God, we are not the Saviors of the World.
It feels so good to let that stress, those expectations, that ego, go.
And to say we are a voice, we are witness, we are a testimony.
That as Christians, we have the privilege to be a witness to the light, the life, and the grace that the birth of Jesus Christ will represent.
That we get to be a voice in the dark and scary wildernesses that reminds people that God has not forsaken us.
That we too get to be characters in the eternal story of God, in which we will each have our own role, our own place, and our own special scene.
That just like John we are not the Messiah, but we do have the privilege to make Jesus known and to help welcome him into our world.
How sweet it is that by the Jordan Rivers we can join our ancestors in embracing our identity and sharing the light of Christ with the world.
For that we can say amen and amen.
A UCC Pastor's walk through the spiritual waters of Scripture, pop culture and life.
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