14 December 2014
Preacher: Leslie Griffiths
“Born in a stable”
“Wild and lone the Prophets voice”
“O come, o come Emmanuel”
“There’s a light upon the mountain”
Hymns:
532
189
180
188
Readings:
Isaiah 61:1-4 & 8-9
John 1:6-8 & 19-28
“JOHN’S BAPTISM”
I’ve visited the Holy Land once and once only. That was in 1992. I’ve not felt I wanted
to re-visit that troubled area again because of my horror at the way policy is being
worked out there.
Over and above such considerations, I remember a feeling of intense frustration during
that visit of yesteryear. I kept on hearing sentences like “This is said to be where….” or
“This might have been the place in which …” or “Legend has it that…”. There is so
much confusion about specific places where the events recorded in the gospels actually
took place I didn’t always get the sense (in the built environment of the Holy Land) of
authenticity.
Instead, I found consolation in the world of nature. The hills I was looking at were
certainly those across which Jesus would have walked. The desert I spent a short time
in was undoubtedly where Jesus tested his vocation and withdrew for meditation. The
Sea of Galilea is the very place along whose shores he found his disciples and upon
whose waters he engaged in fishing. And the river Jordan is, now as then, the
delightfully flowing artery that defines so much of the geography of that country.
I remember, on a visit we paid to Jericho, being shown the spot on the river where John
is supposed to have been baptising when Jesus found him. And I remember the
commentary given us by our guide. Again, much of this is coloured by speculation. But
I was definitely moved by the explanation I was given at that time.
This is the spot, said our guide, where the people of Israel crossed the river as they took
possession of their promised land, the land flowing with milk and honey. Over a
thousand years previous to John the Baptist, this was where, after 40 years of
wandering through the deserts of Saudi Arabia and Sinai, they actually entered Canaan.
I reminded myself of just how dramatic a story that was. It’s told with great literary skill
as a counterpoint to the people’s departure from Egypt. Just consider:
 The sea (in the case of the escape from Egypt) was stopped up – the river (in the
case of the entry to Canaan) was also stopped up.
 The people left the land of their captivity – they entered the land of their freedom.
 The Passover was enacted before the departure – it was celebrated after the arrival
in their new home.
 The Egyptian army was destroyed as the waters engulfed them. Their chariots and
military leaders all drowned. Against this, the Canaanites, Hittites, Hivites, Perizzites,
Girgashites, Amorites, Jebusites were, according to instruction, to be defeated.
A deliberately constructed narrative that stands imposingly as the final moment in a
story that began with the Exodus.
So this is where John the Baptist stood to perform his rituals. He is reported as quoting
the prophet Isaiah: “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘make straight the
way of the Lord.’” These words, of course, are also associated with an Exodus, another
Exodus, the one from Babylon. The people had been defeated and dragged into exile
but, the prophet reassures them, they will leave the land of their captivity and follow the
straightened way back home.
This passage is, in this intricate way, linked to two of the key moments in the history of
the people of Israel. And the baptism of repentance which he offers is offered in the
place where the nation was made and re-made.
It can almost be considered a rite for National Renewal. It goes well beyond an activity
that focusses upon individuals. Certainly it’s men and women who are baptised, each
different from all the others; but for this to be happening for such a number of people
and at such a significant place, colours the whole thing with the feeling of a national
dimension. Just listen to what one commentator says:
The Baptist, with his burning sincerity, his courage, his red-hot anger
against sin, had got through the nation’s guard, and fairly pierced people’s
consciences. They flocked to him; they listened, much moved and
discomforted in soul: they knew what he said was true; they grew sick of
themselves, and yearned to be quite different from themselves. And in
token of this they crowded eagerly to be baptised.
So John the Baptist was addressing his nation’s need, calling his people to wake up,
facing them with their own folly, and, supremely, offering them a whole new vista of a
future that is available to them.
William Wordsworth wrote an astonishingly powerful sonnet in praise of John Milton.
His poem was written in 1802 but it celebrates Milton’s magnificent poetry and also his
public life of two centuries previously. I want to snatch his lines and, with an obvious
alteration, apply them to the ministry of this morning’s hero. Her ewe go:
John the Baptist! Thou shouldst be living at this hour;
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
O raise us up….
The people of God needed John the Baptist. The people of Wordsworth’s generation
needed John Milton. And we need such larger-than-life characters in our own day –
those who can appeal through all the stodginess and convention, through the fear and
despair, through the tiresome and problematical, in a way that touches people’s hearts,
stimulates their energies, prods their consciences and calls them to face today’s word
with new imagination and a generosity of spirit.
That was John’s message. So who exactly was he, this man who caused such a stir?
We can say at once that he was the son of Zechariah and Elizabeth, a cousin of Jesus.
His mother received news of his impending birth at the same time as Mary was told
about the forthcoming birth of Jesus.
Those listening to him wondered if he might be the Messiah or Elijah or Moses. This
was a fearsome threesome. You couldn’t get higher in the stakes as far as the Jewish
people were concerned. This triumvirate would easily outclass Simon Cowell and his X
Factor panel! They were all big hitters. So John was right up there. His words hit
home. He touched a nerve. He got under their skin. He provoked a response. He got
people out of their comfort zone and made them sit up.
That was the effect of his message. That describes his reach. That gives an indication
of the power of his personality.
He must have cut such a strange figure.
His formation had been in the wilderness – in solitude and meditation. His diet had
been grasshoppers and wild honey. He was dressed in a rough camel-hair tunic like
the prophets of old.
He was different. He had the common touch. He had the knack of saying things that
resonated in people’s minds.
If I ask myself to name a few of those who, like John the Baptist perhaps, are different
and in possession of the common touch in tune with ordinary people, in our political
arena in the UK, who would I come up with? Well, here are five such people chosen at
random and in alphabetical order:
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Russell Brand
Nigel Farage
Boris Johnson
Ian Paisley (alas dead)
Alex Salmond
Am I really saying that these influential men of our day are possessed of the same
talents as John the Baptist?
Well, no, not exactly. There’s one key difference. An important point that puts John in a
different category altogether.
John wasn’t seeking the top job. He wasn’t wanting to call the shots. He knew that the
light was coming into the world and that he himself was not that light. He spoke
constantly of someone greater than himself. He knew his job – it was to make straight
the way of the Lord. He was content with a secondary role. He was happy to be “the
warm-up man” for the real leader who was coming. This readiness to play second fiddle
is a remarkable feature in someone who clearly was destined to be a star. He has all
the attributes of what we’d call these days a “celebrity”. Yet he didn’t seek the limelight.
We need a John the Baptist now. Today.

To point to the light that is coming into the world and which all the lights on
Oxford street will never outshine.
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To point to the ultimate present, all gift-wrapped (in swaddling bands), that’s for
life (not just for Christmas), that’s free, totally and absolutely free.

To call our nation to its senses, - the Church, our armed forces, the arts, our
homes and domestic life, politics and society at large. To see the follies of these
times, the dangers we’re living through, the self-created prisons of the mind.
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And to offer Christ to the world again; not the Christ we’ve domesticated to our
tastes, or adorned with our tat, or exploited for our own ends; but the one who
was promised of old: “Wonderful, Counsellor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting
Father, the Prince of Peace.
Let me end by mangling two verses of Charles Wesley and offer them in the spirit of
John the Baptist:
O for a trumpet voice
On all the world to call,
To bid their hearts rejoice
In him who was born for all!
Our God contracted to a span,
Incomprehensibly made man.
Let the trumpet sound. Let it alert the world to the good news of the forthcoming arrival
of the Prince of Peace. Amen.