by Bishop Bill Gohl
The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. - Mark 1:1-8
For as many years as I have been ordained, I have led a Bible study series for different church or community groups on the biblical birth narratives of Jesus. It’s a favorite topic that I approach as if I were G. K. Chesterton's Father Brown character, piecing together how we amalgamate the Matthew and Luke birth narratives into a single, synthesized nativity scene with the magi of Matthew hobnobbing with the shepherds of Luke. With that discussion comes the inevitable peek at favorite Christmas carols and how they fit as pieces of a puzzle into helping reveal a larger meta-narrative about Christmas, delighting some with the rich Christological imagery of Hark, the Herald Angels Sing and its allusions to the John narrative, devastating others with the news that Joy to the World is actually Advent carol paraphrase of a psalm. Each of the narratives, too, has "its" day – Luke on Christmas Eve, John on Christmas Day (and a rerun on one of the Sundays in the Christmas season) and Matthew on Epiphany Day.
For many years, I have given into the idea that Mark contributes precious little to the birth narrative bonanza, going as far as to suggest that the only nod to Mark would be to add an out-of-place character to our nativity scenes to play the part of John the Baptist. "Mark isn’t concerned," I've said, "about Christmas. Mark begins his testimony and witness to the Jesus story with the call to baptism."
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve led this same study, and how it was only this last week that I realized I was wrong. And, perhaps, Advent made me do it!
When I was a young child, we belonged to a Lutheran congregation that had been hit hard by the Advent stick. Advent was Advent, Christmas was Christmas – and until the fourth candle was lit, and extinguished, Christmas was not allowed to "pollute" our Lenten-like observance of Advent. Violet paraments, three purple and one pink candle, greens instead of flowers in the vases, the minor key prominent in the hymnody and theologically-threat-studded-preaching in the style of John the Baptist are the memories of my early childhood, coupled with a harried Altar Guild rushing to make the "Christmas moment" happen the afternoon of Advent IV. To be honest, there are (fleeing) times when I miss those traditions that had the same magical quality as a grandparent who didn’t put up or decorate their Christmas tree, with lit candles no less, until Christmas Eve. Though the Advent of my childhood made me squirm a bit, it was not unlike Walter Bruggeman who suggested that "the church should be the most honest place in town, not necessarily the happiest." There was more than a bit of conviction that Advent and its earnest call to prepare our hearts for the coming of the Christ (See how I did that? "Let ev’ry heart prepare him room and heaven and nature sing!"), not a flaming countdown to finishing our Christmas decorating, card-writing, shopping and wrapping. The Advent of my childhood stood as a twice-weekly (there was Vespers on Wednesday evenings) "hard-stop" to being swallowed up in Christmas preparation like a child with sugar-induced hysteria.
This last week, after I had been to pericope study with the other pastors of the metro area, I had resolved to preach on Mark's recounting of John the Baptist, I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit, mostly because I think that Lutheran Christians so often relegate the Holy Spirit to a "wear red to church once a year" festival in the spring that is often eclipsed in many of our congregations by Confirmation, too.
But, after a pretty devastating week of entering into people's real hurts and genuine crises, including some of my own, I was leading my stock "Birth Narrative Bible Study" for the good people of the Church of the Nativity and the Holy Comforter, our "Lutherpalian" congregation in Baltimore and I saw something I had not ever noticed before, a clear Marcan birth narrative: The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.
Lacking in shepherds and angels, stars and magi, a holy family and a rude stable; but a story nevertheless. The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.
And, as I mounted the pulpit of St. Paul's (Fulton) three times this last week to preach Advent II, I had the holy privilege of preaching "a little Christmas right this very minute" to a number of other weary sojourners who followed my thinking and laughed along with me as I picked up that small thread of promise and gave all of us, myself included, a much-needed reminder that Advent is a season of the heart, a heart wide-open to the Christ. The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God is Christmas enough for the living of these (Advent) days.
The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. As it is written in the prophet Isaiah: "See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: 'Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight,'" John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, "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." -Mark 1:1-8
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve led this same study, and how it was only this last week that I realized I was wrong. And, perhaps, Advent made me do it!
When I was a young child, we belonged to a Lutheran congregation that had been hit hard by the Advent stick. Advent was Advent, Christmas was Christmas – and until the fourth candle was lit, and extinguished, Christmas was not allowed to "pollute" our Lenten-like observance of Advent. Violet paraments, three purple and one pink candle, greens instead of flowers in the vases, the minor key prominent in the hymnody and theologically-threat-studded-preaching in the style of John the Baptist are the memories of my early childhood, coupled with a harried Altar Guild rushing to make the "Christmas moment" happen the afternoon of Advent IV. To be honest, there are (fleeing) times when I miss those traditions that had the same magical quality as a grandparent who didn’t put up or decorate their Christmas tree, with lit candles no less, until Christmas Eve. Though the Advent of my childhood made me squirm a bit, it was not unlike Walter Bruggeman who suggested that "the church should be the most honest place in town, not necessarily the happiest." There was more than a bit of conviction that Advent and its earnest call to prepare our hearts for the coming of the Christ (See how I did that? "Let ev’ry heart prepare him room and heaven and nature sing!"), not a flaming countdown to finishing our Christmas decorating, card-writing, shopping and wrapping. The Advent of my childhood stood as a twice-weekly (there was Vespers on Wednesday evenings) "hard-stop" to being swallowed up in Christmas preparation like a child with sugar-induced hysteria.
This last week, after I had been to pericope study with the other pastors of the metro area, I had resolved to preach on Mark's recounting of John the Baptist, I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit, mostly because I think that Lutheran Christians so often relegate the Holy Spirit to a "wear red to church once a year" festival in the spring that is often eclipsed in many of our congregations by Confirmation, too.
But, after a pretty devastating week of entering into people's real hurts and genuine crises, including some of my own, I was leading my stock "Birth Narrative Bible Study" for the good people of the Church of the Nativity and the Holy Comforter, our "Lutherpalian" congregation in Baltimore and I saw something I had not ever noticed before, a clear Marcan birth narrative: The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.
Lacking in shepherds and angels, stars and magi, a holy family and a rude stable; but a story nevertheless. The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.
And, as I mounted the pulpit of St. Paul's (Fulton) three times this last week to preach Advent II, I had the holy privilege of preaching "a little Christmas right this very minute" to a number of other weary sojourners who followed my thinking and laughed along with me as I picked up that small thread of promise and gave all of us, myself included, a much-needed reminder that Advent is a season of the heart, a heart wide-open to the Christ. The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God is Christmas enough for the living of these (Advent) days.
The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. As it is written in the prophet Isaiah: "See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: 'Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight,'" John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, "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." -Mark 1:1-8