Advent II

Advent II

December 4: Mark 1:1-8

The voice of one calling in the wilderness…

One of the interesting things about regularly preaching for The Night Ministry is the opportunity to read all kinds of scriptures and stories through the lens of our work. Sometimes, this work feels like a particular challenge, and sometimes it feels like it is right there- the contexts and causes we care about are front and center in the word.

John the Baptist feels like one of those front-and-center times. The very first words of Mark, said by many scholars to be the first of the canonical Gospels, introducing a framing for John, and then introducing John himself. In John, the writer of Mark suggests, we have an embodiment of the ‘voice in the wilderness’ that Isaiah described. And, I would add, in John, we have someone who deliberately puts his body on the margins, and a very visible sign of God’s revelation coming from someone who seems to be without a stable place to sleep.

I get really excited when congregations come out with our programs. One of the reasons I get excited is that it means we get to have food at our program- food that fills nutrition needs in the neighborhoods where we work, but also food that helps our staff as they seek to build relationships with people who are out on the nighttime streets. So, yes: food is great. But honestly, I also get really excited when congregations come visit us because of what I believe about God. I tend to agree with Mark’s assessment: there’s something about being out on the margins, out on the wilderness, living a little bit rough, that puts someone in touch with God. That helps one to hear God’s voice, and maybe to speak in that voice- the voice of crying in the wilderness.

The last time I was at the Art Institute, I got to wander a bit. And, as many of us Chicagoans know, wandering at the Art Institute is often a rich experience. I found myself in one of those rooms with medieval tapestries, fancy goblets, that kind of thing. One brass plaque told me that the display case in front of me held a golden stand, and one of John the Baptist’s teeth. I had to just stop and stare at it. I don’t think I believe it’s actually his tooth, but it’s a convenient place to think about this wilderness voice. (And I’m a Baptist myself, so there’s some resonance there as well.) But maybe it’s good to take a minute, now and then, in the Art Institute or elsewhere, to consider John the Baptist. And to consider what other voices are calling out in the wilderness of our deserts or our cities. I wonder what they’ll say.

David Weasley