Creative Extremists

If ever we needed a reminder that the season of Advent is distinct from Christmas, John the Baptizer is that reminder. Let’s just say, John would be an odd sight at the Victorian Christmas Festival at the Fairgrounds; he’d be an awkward entry in the Santa Parade; he’d be an unwelcome guest at your average workplace Christmas party. If you’re in the mood for some holiday cheer, John the Baptizer is not your guy.

Sure, you might like to cut down a fir to adorn your living room about this time of year, but I don’t think that’s what John is getting at in today’s Gospel from Matthew: “Repent,” he cries out, “for the kingdom of heaven has come near…. Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; therefore every tree that does not bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.” Yikes.

What role does this unkempt, untamed prophet play in the season of Advent? What is the purpose of his sudden appearance on the margin and his abrasive call to repentance? John’s got zero Christmas spirit, to be sure, but maybe that’s because his message is too urgent to worry about offending our sensibilities.

What’s more, John’s admonition to change our lives pales in comparison to what’s coming down the pike: “I baptize you with water for repentance,” he says, “but the one who is coming after me is more powerful than I, and I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

I don’t know about you, but I’m not picking up on any “tidings of comfort and joy” here. John’s prophecy makes it clear that the advent of a new world is no sleigh ride. Jesus’ arrival signals a markedly new way of life. And all that is useless to the reign of God– self-importance, greed, apathy– is destined to disintegrate, like chaff in a furnace, clearing the way for truly abundant life– a life of humility, generosity, sacrificial love. As it turns out, genuine, transformative change requires a shock to the system. And John the Baptizer, the forerunner of Christ, is the first in the gospel story to send out the shock wave.

Of course, he’s not the last. Prophets throughout the ages have insisted on telling us things we don’t want to hear, and often at the least convenient times. “Frankly,” wrote the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., “I have never yet engaged in a direct action movement that was ‘well-timed,’ according to [the critics]. For years now I have heard the word ‘Wait!’…. This ‘Wait’ has almost always meant ‘Never.’”

For his sense of urgency in the movement for civil and human rights, Dr. King was branded an extremist, a label he eventually came to accept:

Was not Jesus an extremist in love– “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, pray for them that despitefully use you.” Was not Amos an extremist for justice– “Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.” Was not Paul an extremist for the gospel of Jesus Christ– “I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus.” Was not Martin Luther an extremist– “Here I stand; I can do no other so help me God.” Was not John Bunyan an extremist– “I will stay in jail to the end of my days before I make a butchery of my conscience.” Was not Abraham Lincoln an extremist– “This nation cannot survive half slave and half free.” Was not Thomas Jefferson an extremist– “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.” So the question is not whether we will be extremist but what kind of extremist will we be. Will we be extremists for hate or will we be extremists for love? Will we be extremists for the preservation of injustice– or will we be extremists for the cause of justice?… After all, maybe [the world is] in dire need of creative extremists.”[1]

I think “creative extremist” is a fitting label for John the Baptizer, too. His call to repentance grates on the ears, but it’s accompanied by a promise that stirs the heart. God’s inbreaking influence– embodied in the person and work of Jesus– makes a startling break with the past,^[2] not simply for the sake of change, but in order that God might remake the world as God intends it to be. Our Psalm for today casts the vision beautifully: “May [our king] be like rain that falls on the mown grass, like showers that water the earth. In his days may righteousness flourish and peace abound, until the moon is no more.”

Friends, if John the Baptizer is an extremist, he is an extremist for the just and peaceable reign of God. And since all is not yet right with the world, and since we are implicated, we still need to hear his cry in the wilderness, his plea that we be transformed– individually and collectively. But take heart; even as we accept John’s call to repentance, we also receive Christ’s word of reconciliation and peace, like rain that follows the fire, like showers that renew the earth.

[1] “Letter from Birmingham City Jail,” A Testament of Hope, 292, 297-8.

[2] John P. Burgess, in Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 1, 48.