John
1:6-8, 19-28, 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24
When I was a child Saturday mornings were
the best. That’s when all the good cartoons were on TV, one of them being The
Adventures of Gulliver. But I must have been the only fan of the show because
it only ran for one season. Nonetheless, I still remember it. Not the whole
series but one character, in particular. His name was Glum. And he was true to
his name. Whenever there was trouble, Glum, in a deep, monotone voice, would
always declare, “It'll never work. We’ll never make it. We’re doomed. It’s
hopeless.”
What’s funny is that all these years
later when I face something difficult or daunting I can still hear Glum’s voice
ringing in my ears. Sometimes it makes me laugh because it is so silly. Other
times, though, that voice, or particularly that message of doom and gloom is
harder to dismiss.
It’s been especially hard during these
past 9 months as we have been living with all the fall out of Covid-19. This
wilder has been filled with voices that stir up anxiety, fear, uncertainty, and
hopelessness. We’ve all heard them. I’ve had many conversations with
parishioners who’ve told me that they have to be careful about how much
information they take in on a day to day basis - whether it’s from the news or
social media or conversations with friends and loved ones - because the
messages can overwhelm.
But these messages, these wilderness
voices that speak of darkness and despair are not the only voices out there.
There is another. A voice that is not of the wilderness yet it does cry out to
us in the wilderness. It is the voice of John the Baptist. And his voice
testifies to light and to hope. Of all the voices that clamor for our attention
this is the voice to attend to because it tells us what is ultimately true.
Without denying the hard facts about the reality in which we live - the
climbing numbers of Covid infections and deaths, the growing turmoil of our
political life, the continued injustices that people of color face - the voice
of the one crying out in the wilderness tells us that no matter the circumstances
there is a greater reality. For in John’s voice, in his words we encounter the
Word. The Word of God that was in the beginning. The Word that was with God and
was God. The Word that became flesh and lived among us. The Word who is our
hope.
Now hope doesn’t make life easy. What
hope does is make life possible - even during wilderness times. Hope reminds us
that it will not always be this way. Hope tells us that we have a future. Hope
proclaims that the Word who is God is our light and our life which will never
fail.
So how do we hear and know this Word of
hope that comes in the voice of the one crying out in our wilderness? Well,
it’s not always easy. But it can be done - with practice. Particularly by
heeding the words of the apostle Paul in our reading from 1 Thessalonians. That
is, rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances. For
as we do these things - not perfectly, because it’s always a practice - but as
we find ways in our daily life to practice rejoicing,, praying, giving thanks
our hearts and souls become more attuned to the voice of hope. We begin to hear
it more clearly and more easily the message of the divine mystery - that in
this time and in this place, God who is the Word is both coming to us and is
already among us.
So let us prepare. Let us make straight
the way of the Lord. Now I dare say that you may not have the voice of Glum in
your ears, but likely you’ve taken in other voices, other messages of the wild.
Whenever those wilderness voices start to clamor, remember that there is
another voice to attend to. A truer voice. The voice of one that, even now at
this very moment, is crying out in the wilderness. Can you hear it? It is
testifying to the light. The light that shines in the darkness. The light that
no darkness, no wilderness, no pandemic will ever be able overcome. This is the
good news. This is the voice of hope. Listen and believe.
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