Among You Stands One You Do Not Know

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector

St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas

December 11, 2011; 3 Advent, Year B

Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(John 1:6-8, 19-28) – There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.

This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, "Who are you?" He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, "I am not the Messiah." And they asked him, "What then? Are you Elijah?" He said, "I am not." "Are you the prophet?" He answered, "No." Then they said to him, "Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?" He said, "I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, `Make straight the way of the Lord,'" as the prophet Isaiah said. Now they had been sent from the Pharisees. They asked him, "Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?" John answered them, "I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal." This took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was baptizing.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

One of the traditional spiritual practices that we like to teach at St. Paul's is the ancient method of praying with scripture called Lectio Divina. The first thing we do when we practice Lectio is to read the scripture very slowly, and notice what jumps out at you as you listen deeply to the text. Here is a phrase that caught my attention this week from today's gospel:  "Among you stands one whom you do not know."

Apparently Jesus was there in the background listening to John the Baptist, probably as one of his disciples. Just another face in the crowd. No reason that he would stand out. Jesus was there among them. An anonymous young man from Galilee. But John says to those gathered around him, "Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal."

I can imagine that John's words caused quite a stir. People started looking around. Who is it? Which one of us? I'll bet they started paying attention to one another with a new seriousness. Maybe more than a few of them entertained the possibility, “Could it be me?”

I like the notion that God is among us incognito. God is at work among us even when we don't notice. God is present in and through people that we may not recognize as godly.  God works through you in such a quiet way that you may not even recognize it in yourself.

Part of what we anticipate and seek in this Advent season is the incarnation, the coming of God-with-us. The church asserts that Christ is always with us, among us, in us. But that's not something that we are always aware of; it’s not something that we always are conscious about. Some people think, “Oh, that kind of divine presence, that’s only for real religious types. Not me.”

Some people think of monks and nuns as people who have a serene and certain faith. We call monasteries religious communities. And indeed they are. But the monks and nuns who live in monasteries are human beings just like the rest of us. They have their own shadows and doubts.

Kathleen Norris's book The Cloister Walk narrates her observations as a guest of a Benedictine monastery. She tells of an anguished young Trappist monk who expressed some of his insecurities in a question toward the end of a retreat.  "We have spoken of the loss of faith in American society," he said, "but what of loss of faith within the monastery itself?" He then courageously and vulnerably expressed some of his own profound doubts and his own faith-struggles in his life. At times, he said, he felt his life in the monastery was almost unbearable. The retreat leader calmly expressed no surprise. His answer to the young monk was practical and thoroughly monastic: "Of course we are weak, unable to cope. But if we can maintain faith, hope, and charity, it will radiate somehow. And people who come to us may find in us what we can no longer see in ourselves." [i]

There’s a scene in Georges Bernanos’ touching novel Diary of a Country Priest, where the young priest is summoned to care for a parishioner who has always been a thorn in his side. She has been among the most difficult and antagonistic of his parishioners. Now she is dying. The priest has mixed emotions as he approaches his call to her. Still, he goes through the motions. “Be at peace," he says routinely. To his surprise the woman kneels down before him and receives this peace profoundly. Her entire countenance changes before his eyes. The priest is overwhelmed as he watches her receive more peace than he himself had. "Oh, miracle," he says, "thus to be able to give what we ourselves do not possess, the sweet miracle of our empty hands." [ii]

I just returned from a visit with my son and his family in Taiwan. Kathy and I got to meet our new granddaughter, the most beautiful girl in the world. Although Gray had taken some time off for our visit, on several evenings he still had to go in to work. Naturally, we asked him how he was enjoying his teaching. It was good for the most part, he said, but there were days…  And there were certain students who could push his button.

So he went to work one evening, a bit conflicted because he hated to leave his visit with us. But there was something about the joy of the energy of our time with him that had produced some ebullience in his mood. When we picked him up four hours later, he was bouncing and glad to see us. We asked him, "How did it go tonight?" He paused reflecting for a moment before answering.  "I’ve noticed," he said, "that when I go to class feeling good, I tend to have a good session, and the kids respond, and they enjoy what they are learning.  And when I go to class in a dark mood, I don’t teach so well, and they always get under my skin and bug me."

"Among you stands one whom you do not know." Inside each of us there is an audience, a crowd of observers, each with its own mood, personality, and interpretation. Our cynical self, and our hopeful self.  Our confident self, and our insecure self. But always within us there stands the one whom we often do not know. The very presence of Christ within us.

Sometimes we are surprised when something unexpected and graceful occurs through us. "Oh, miracle, thus to be able to give what we ourselves do not possess, the sweet miracle of our empty hands."

How much more fruitful might we be if we nurtured an Advent awareness that Jesus is as fully within us as he was present as an anonymous Galilean within a crowd listening to John the Baptist.

Sometimes a good friend will point out to us our Christ-presence that we may not have recognized within ourselves. Like John the Baptist sometimes friends can recognize in us the potential that may otherwise seem obscure. Somewhere I've heard it said that our friends are those who show us God, and our enemies are those who allow us to become more godly, offering us the opportunity to practice compassion, forgiveness, and mercy. We need them both, our friends and our enemies.

I’ve told this story before, but it bears repeating. Once upon a time, there was a dying monastery. In sadness, the abbot went to visit his friend the rabbi who was taking a retreat nearby. They talked and prayed and wept together. Eventually the abbot asked the Rabbi, "Do you have any word for us and our monastery?" The Rabbi replied, "No, except that the Messiah might already be among you."

As the brothers began to consider what this might mean, they began to see each other differently. Yes, that one is a pain; but he's usually right, you know. Yes, this other brother is quiet and dull, but if there is ever any need, it seems that he's always there. They began to see each other differently, and themselves as well. Could that one be the Messiah? Oh, miracle. Might I be the Messiah? A new spirit emerged among the brothers, and before long others were attracted to them and to their community. And in a few years, a new generation had come among them and they were strong again.  ^[iii]

Let your imagination open in wonder for a moment.  Imagine.

John the Baptist looks out upon this congregation today and says, "Among you stands one whom you do not know." A Trappist retreat leader says, "Of course we are weak, unable to cope. But if we can maintain faith, hope, and charity, it will radiate somehow. And people who come to us may find in us what we can no longer see in ourselves." "Oh, miracle, thus to be able to give what we ourselves do not possess, the sweet miracle of our empty hands." "Rabbi, do you have any word for us and our congregation?" "No, except that the Messiah might already be among you."

---

[i] Kathleen Norris, The Cloister Walk, p. 363, cited in Tom Stegald’s blog The Messiah May Be Among Us, 12-08-2011, http://www.goodpreacher.com/tomsteagald/.

[ii] quoted by M. Craig Barnes, Shadyside Presbyterian Church, http://www.goodpreacher.com/backissuesread.php?file=7367

[iii] Remembered in Tom Stegald’s blog, http://www.goodpreacher.com/tomsteagald/ 

____________________________________________________________

The Mission of St. Paul's Episcopal Church is to explore and celebrate

God's infinite grace, acceptance and love.

For information about St. Paul's Episcopal Church and its life and mission, please contact us at

P.O. Box 1190, Fayetteville, AR 72702, or call 479/442-7373

More sermons are posted on our web site: www.stpaulsfay.org

Visit our web partners at www.explorefaith.org