The Rev. Rob Fisher
St. Dunstan’s, Carmel Valley
Readings for Advent II: Isaiah 11:1-10; Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19; Romans 15:4-13; Matthew 3:1-12

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit—Amen.

We all have special places in our lives—places where we go to find transcendence.

Some might call these their “happy places.”

Others might call them their getaway spots.

You may go there physically, or maybe just in your mind.

One of the special places in my life is a desert wilderness called Joshua Tree National Park.

It’s a wilderness environment, and perhaps it isn’t for everybody.  But it always lifts my spirits and clears my head when I get to be there.

The landscape is open and mostly bare, but with enormous piles of rounded, orange rock rising up in places like expressive sculptures.  There are wide, expansive plains with hundreds of Joshua trees, that look like people.  The early Mormon settlers named these large yucca plants Joshua trees because they felt they resembled Joshua from the Bible raising his hands upward in prayer.

These strange trees look like something out of a Dr. Seuss book.  Each has its own magnificently wacky personality, giving a zany and oddly beautiful character to the otherwise serious desert.

***

There is less in the desert to see, so somehow that helps you to see more.  Every plant that survives there, and every flower if you are lucky enough to see one, is something to stop and notice.

Best of all is the big sky, especially when it is full of stars at night.

The desert feels timeless.  All the rest of the world is put into perspective.

The air feels clean in your nostrils.  The dry wind feels fresh on your skin.  The seemingly empty land is actually full of wonders.

Strangely, in the desert wilderness, less becomes more.  It can be a harsh place.  But its purity and its lack of distractions leads to a greater focus—a focus that I often feel that the world is secretly longing for.

***

The wilderness is an important place in the Bible.

John the Baptist was literally a voice crying out in the wilderness, calling for people to prepare the way of the Lord.

John the Baptist spent much of his time in the Wilderness of Judea.

It is an area to the east of Jerusalem, to the west of the Dead Sea.  It is a hilly area with little water.  The rocky hills are made of a chalky substance, and in the winter it has a light covering of green grass.  Because of how difficult it is to reach or travel through, it has never been well inhabited.

In addition to being a place of hiding and also of testing, it has long been a place of retreat.

John famously wore clothing of camel’s hair and a rough belt, and ate wild honey and locusts.  Incidentally, I have read that locusts are still eaten in some Arab cultures, and that they were an allowable food according to the Jewish dietary laws.

As wild as John was, he had a large, very passionate following.  Jesus himself was a disciple of his before Jesus set off on his own.

Disciples in those days followed their teachers so closely that they could be seen literally stepping right behind them everywhere they went.  One saying was that the only thing a disciple would not do for his master was to tie his sandals

Jesus will not only follow John with his own ministry, but he started out as a disciple.  So it has a double meaning when John says: “I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me;

“I am not worthy to carry his sandals.  He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

***

John came to the people of his day as he comes to us now—to our wilderness places—declaring the coming of the Lord.

Calling for us to prepare ourselves, asking us to make room!

Make room for what is coming.

John’s point perhaps—and surely the point of Advent—is that only an empty hand can receive.

Only an open heart can love.

***

On how many nights are the stars brilliant in the night sky?  The answer is: every night.  We just can’t see them most nights because we are either in a place where the street lights get in our way, or where the clouds block them from us.

But the gift of emptiness, of quiet—of darkness even—is that here is where the truth is most fully revealed.

In the book group that we are having this Advent we are reflecting on the meaning of Sabbath.  It is more than just taking a day of the week.  It is about taking time—any time—and consecrating it, making it an open space in which to invite reflection, prayer, or simply dwelling in the presence of God.  This could be just one hour of your day.  It could be just two minutes.  It doesn’t matter how long it is.  It only matters that it is honored, and that it is part of your essential life rhythm.

It’s the only one of the ten commandments that begins with the word “remember”—remember the Sabbath and keep it holy.

Remember that God is still speaking to you, though the rest of the world would distract you from that voice.  Remember that you are not alone ever.

Remember the words of the psalm, which says: “Be still then, and know that I am God.”

Remember that God is found in the stillness.

Our neglect of the Sabbath has a lot to do with time.

We stay busy because we feel we don’t have enough time.  We’re afraid to stop and slow down because we feel we can’t afford to.

But that is to think about time as a commodity—time as something that is “spent.”

Instead, we should think of time as something in which to dwell.  Time cannot be stored up.  It can only be the setting of our lives.

We should not spend our time, but we should seek to live in time, and to live fully while we have the time.

***

When John spoke to the people in the desert wilderness, he was saying that now is the time.  Get ready, because the kingdom of the Lord is near.  Christ is coming, and he will baptize you with fire and the Spirit.  You will be cleansed.

It is a call to purity, like the clean, spare desert itself.  It is a call to claim this time—this very moment—to make a holy space to receive the gift of God’s presence which is coming to us now.

—Amen.