A Kitten, a Christmas Tree, and a Call to Community - Luke 3:7-18

If your holiday season has not been perfect or 100% magical this year, you’re not alone. We’ve had a few things go off the rails in our home. The most notable was the Christmas tree. We put up a tree in the living room and decorated it shortly after Thanksgiving, as is our custom. We played Christmas music, drank hot chocolate, and reminisced about family trips and happy memories captured in the ornaments we’ve collected over the years. I’m very sentimental about them, so it was a joy to hang them up again. Holiday magic was off to a good start. 

I did notice, though, that the tree was already dropping needles in large quantities. And then Ricky Bobby the kitten figured out that he could climb the thing, which caused a lot of shaking and a lot more shedding. He also discovered knocking ornaments off of the tree. After we found two or three of those heirloom ones shredded, we figured out that the dog and the cat were working together. Losing both ornaments and needles quickly, the tree looked awful. So this week we took everything off and put it out on the curb. Almost immediately, upon seeing an empty tree cast out far too early, concerned neighbors started to text. So we quickly dragged the tree to the back of the house, out of sight. We didn’t want to alarm anyone, and we didn’t want people to assume that the Alexanders had cancelled Christmas. It’s easy to look at the evidence and fill in the narrative, assuming the worst. 

This isn’t exactly a one-to-one comparison, but I had that story on my mind as I studied John the Baptist this week. It’s easy to hear him calling people a brood of vipers in Luke’s Gospel, and to assume the worst - that his message is nothing more than a harsh, angry, and fiery tirade. We picture him in the desert, wild-eyed and wearing animal skins, yelling at people to repent at a pretty high volume. And yet, despite the berating tone with which we read his words, the Gospel is clear that the people who go out to listen to John are filled with hope, that this is good news to them. However we fill in the narrative, whatever negative reading we have of John’s language, is insufficient. There must be more to the story than we assume.

Let’s take a closer look at John’s use of “brood of vipers,” or children of snakes, because there is a chance we’ve been hearing it wrong all these years. On the surface it seems like a fierce insult. But biblical scholars have noticed that John might have something else in mind. When vipers are hatched, they stay together, until they mature. But if something threatens them, they spread out and flee (Justo Gonzalez, Pulpit Fiction). By the time John is preaching in the wilderness, tensions have been building in Jerusalem, which will eventually lead to a Jewish revolt and a crushing victory for the Romans. Perhaps the people coming out to see John sense the mounting danger, and are leaving the comfort and security of their lives in the city for a little refuge in the wilderness and the hope of a prophet. Brood of vipers might be more of a description than an insult.

In the midst of their upheaval and insecurity, they ask John what to do. His answer is surprisingly tame for a fiery prophet. If you have two coats or extra food, give to those who don’t. If you’re a tax collector, don’t take extra money for yourself. If you’re a soldier, don’t extort money from those you serve. There is nothing new here in John’s message - these are basic expectations in the Jewish community for how to treat one another, and frankly it’s kind of a low bar coming from someone we think of as extreme. John is basically saying, take care of one another in this time of upheaval and change. And let go of what you don’t need, especially the stuff in your heart that’s keeping you from loving God and your neighbor. Throw out all that chaff, and let it burn away. 

John’s message is a good word for us, too. We, too, are in a time of change and upheaval. Maybe humans always are. We don’t know what the future holds. Like the residents of Jerusalem in the first century, it’s tempting to scatter and isolate in the face of uncertainty and anxiety, and to just take care of our own. But the ancient wisdom still applies, which is to stay in community. And to do it well, according to the holy standards set for us by the law and the prophets. And also to let go of what we need to let go of in our hearts. It’s a good place to start under any circumstance. 

As John reminds his desert congregation of these basic guidelines, Luke tells us that the people become filled with expectation. They even wonder if John is the messiah, the one who will fulfill their hope. What John says next is the most important thing of all. There is one coming who is more powerful, who will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire. There is one coming who will bring the prophets’ visions to life. There is one coming who will fulfill our deepest hope for a world, and our own lives, healed and whole. 

What John the Baptist preaches is the essence of Advent. Christ, who is the embodiment of everything John and the prophets of Israel hoped for, is coming into the world. We are invited once again to trust the miracle of God becoming flesh to heal the world. We could look at the upheaval and uncertainty all around us and assume the worst. We could scatter and take care of our own. But hope is more readily found when we stay in community, love one another well, and await the coming of Christ together. 

Putting our bare, branchy Christmas tree on the curb was a sad contrast to all of the decorations and holiday magic on our street. But not to worry, we now have a smaller one up in a cat proof area. I do imagine it was upsetting to the neighbors to see the one outside, though. Even without knowing why it was there, it was clearly a sign of an upheaval of some sort. I appreciate that they checked in with their texts. They were following John the Baptist’s good advice. It’s abundantly clear that Christ Church also knows how to follow his advice. You know how to stay together in the midst of uncertainty and love one another through it. You care for those around you. You give to those in need. You repent. You work on your own hearts. Like those gathered in the desert, may you also be filled with expectation and hope this Advent, as we watch together for the coming of Christ.