Mark 1:1-8 (Isaiah 40:1-11)
December 10, 2023
I try to take a water aerobics class
a couple of days a week at a rec center in Columbia. I really enjoy the class,
and I never regret the days that I make it because I feel better when I’m done.
I feel more energetic. I’m ready to get my day going. But the hardest part of
the class is not the exercise itself. It’s not even getting out of bed to get
to the class. No, the hardest part is when I take my first step down the stairs
into the water. It doesn’t matter how prepared I think I am to take this first
step, I’m not. The water is always colder than you think it’s going to be. And
now as the days grow colder, the heat in the pool area is cranked up. That doesn’t
technically change the temperature of the water itself, but when you go from
this warm air into the pool, the water feels colder than normal.
It’s interesting to watch the
different ways my classmates ascend into the water. Some of them slowly wade
in, arms held high, getting gradually deeper, hoping that by the time their
arms must touch the water, they will be adjusted to the temperature. Some of
them stand at the edge of the pool and splash themselves with water, trying to
get a little wet first without getting too cold at the same time. I do it a
little differently. I walk into the water just up to my waist, and then I take
the plunge and drop all the way in. It’s a shock but then the shock is over and
I’m moving.
The way that Mark begins his gospel
feels a little like that sudden plunge into cold water. There is no slow
warming up or wading in. There is no playful splashing. Mark is urgent and
immediate and if you’re going to dive into his gospel, you are going to dive
in. Yes, the water is cold, but get in and let’s get moving.
“The beginning of the good news of
Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”
The beginning. This is the
beginning. This is where it all starts. The beginning of the good news of Jesus
Christ, the Son of God.
Biblical
scholars debate whether this was Mark’s first sentence or a title. But whether
he meant it as a heading or as the first sentence, it summarizes the point Mark
is making. This is the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of
God. This is it, people! This is it! But notice that Mark’s beginning names
Jesus but it does not start with Jesus … or God … or the Holy Spirit. No, Mark’s
beginning starts with John the Baptist.
Mark quotes the prophets,
specifically Isaiah, that God is sending a messenger ahead to prepare the way.
This messenger is the voice crying out in the wilderness. This messenger is the
one who is calling all who will listen to prepare the way.
In true Markan fashion, we do not
hear about this John the Baptist as someone who has been living in the
wilderness or that he was known by folks and went out to the wilderness to do
his preaching and baptizing there. He wasn’t a neighbor or just that weird
solitary guy that everyone already knew. No, John the Baptist “appeared” in the
wilderness as if out of nowhere. He appeared in the wilderness, he seemingly
just showed up one day and began hearing people’s confessions, baptizing them
in the River Jordan.
Where did he come from? We don’t
know and Mark isn’t telling, but his sudden appearance is not a deterrent to people.
Mark tells us that the people in the whole Judean countryside and all of
Jerusalem were going down to him. Something about John compelled them to go to
him. Whether it was his message or his strange clothes and diet or a
combination of both, we don’t know. But the people made their way to him. Maybe
they thought he was the messiah, the one who had been promised. But if that’s
what they thought, John told them otherwise. He made it clear that he was not
“the one.” John proclaimed to the people that,
“The one who is more powerful than I
is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his
sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy
Spirit.”
I’m not the one, he told them. I’m
not the one, and furthermore the one who is coming is so much more powerful
than I am that I am not worthy to do for him what a servant would do for the
head of the house. I am unworthy even to stoop down and untie the laces of his
sandals. All I can do, John seems to be telling them, is to get you ready, to
proclaim that this one is due to arrive. I’m here to prepare the way.
Prepare the way. That is a theme in
both our passages this morning. In Mark’s gospel, the people are confessing
their sins and being baptized. The prophet Isaiah is telling the people that
the Lord is calling them to prepare the way by making the paths straight, by
lowering the mountains and lifting the valleys, by making all level ground.
This kind of preparation is actually an invitation from God, with the idea that
God is really doing the lowering and the lifting but inviting the people to
join God in this work. One commentator wrote that this is like a parent
inviting a two-year-old to help bake cookies. The two-year-old probably won’t
be of much help, and the parent will do most of the mixing and baking, but what
matters is not the cookies but the relationship between the two, parent and
child working together. Is God inviting us to help, to prepare, like a parent
invites their toddler? How are we called to prepare the way?
There are lots of preparations this
time of year – decorating, shopping, wrapping, baking, hosting – but surely
these are not the preparations John and the prophets called for. Surely our
preparations are to go deeper than that. In the gospel passage, we hear of the
peoples’ confession of their sins. So, confession must be a part of our
preparations, one way in which we make the paths straight.
But we confess every week. We
confess corporately. We confess in the silence of our hearts. Maybe part of our
preparation, maybe the way we prepare the way, is not only confessing but
responding as well. How do we respond to confession? How do we respond to being
forgiven? We confess, we receive the words of forgiveness and then what? Did
the people leave John by the Jordan with a new understanding of what God was
doing in their lives? Or did they leave John wondering about the one who was
coming next? Or was it both? Or was it something more? Did they realize that
they were to prepare for someone and something, for God’s new intervention in
their lives, even if they could not fully understand what that would mean and
what that would look like? Did they leave John recommitted to their faith, to
their call by God? Were their hearts and minds prepared just as their bodies
were by their confession and their baptism?
How are we called to prepare? I
don’t think we get answers that are spelled out. To prepare the way is not to
fulfill a to-do list, crossing off each task as we complete them. I think our
preparations are something that we figure out even as we do them. We aren’t
sure what God is doing, but we know and believe and trust that God is doing
something, so we try to figure out our preparations. Mark’s gospel is the
shortest of the four gospels. From the very beginning Mark’s emphasis is on the
immediate, the urgent. He wastes no time. And he calls on those who will listen
to follow in the same way, to heed this urgency, to see the immediateness of
God’s interceding in the world in this new way, through this One who follows
John the Baptist. So, we respond accordingly – with immediacy and urgency. God
in Jesus is on the move, and we must be on the move too.
Maybe our preparation is not just
something we think about but something that we do. It is that plunge into the
cold water. We are called to prepare the way by jumping into the good news with
both feet. We are called to prepare by loving God, loving neighbor, and loving
ourselves without hesitation. We are called to live as though Jesus will come
again any minute. That’s what Advent is about really. It’s not just about
waiting for a baby; it’s about waiting for God to surprise us anew.
And that is the good news of the
gospel. God is still doing something new. God is still on the move in this
world. God is still lowering mountains and raising up valleys. God is still
leveling the playing field so that when God’s glory is fully revealed we will
see it as one people.
God is still doing something new and
unexpected and surprising. God is still calling us to prepare the way, to live
with steadfast hope, to be makers of peace, to trust that the one who is coming
is more powerful, more loving, more gracious, more life-giving, more glorious,
more wonderful than any of us can imagine. Prepare for the unexpected. Prepare
for the unimaginable. Prepare for the new. Prepare for the surprising. Prepare
for the sudden appearance. Prepare the way.
Let all of God’s children say,
“Alleluia!”
Amen.
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