Both our Old Testament and Gospel texts this Sunday speak to us from times of difficulty for the Jewish people, times of dislocation, fear, despair. The Old Testament text, from Isaiah, comes from the time after the Babylonian captivity. The Jewish nation had been destroyed and the people led captive into Babylon. For seventy years they lived there, trying to keep their hope alive. Finally, the Persians conquered Babylon, and released them. But, returning home, they found the land devastated, the temple in ruins, foreigners living in their homes. The situation seemed hopeless. That’s when Isaiah, the prophet who had proclaimed God’s judgment on Israel, now proclaimed a message of hope. God is doing a new thing, he said. What was God's judgment on you, now becomes hope for you. God has not abandoned you, but cleared away the detritus of your sins, opening up an opportunity for you to be a more faithful people, ones whom he can bless.

In Jesus’ time, again the Jewish hope had been dashed. Rome occupied Jewish lands. The people looked for a Messiah to deliver them from the Romans, but, realistically, who could fight the might of Rome? There had already been a few of these who had come along, claiming to be “Messiahs,” who would save the Jews from Rome, but their revolts had been put down – violently. People were looking for a national savior. Apocalyptic writings, about the in-breaking of God’s new kingdom, were popular. There were different ideas floating around – a political or religious leader, perhaps both, like Moses; the prophet Elisha coming to usher in a new age; or another prophet who would lead the people on a crusade against injustice and purify the land. “Who are you – which one?” the Pharisees ask John.

John answers them, “I’m none of these. I’m a voice, crying in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord. Make his path straight.” His is the voice of hope – not pointing to himself, but to another. He calls upon the people to open their eyes, to open their ears, to open their lives, to that possibility. “Make a straight way for him,” he says. We hear his message, sometimes, as judgment, a call for repentance. But it is also a message of hope. As the old world is being torn down, a new one is rising. As the kingdoms of this world come under judgment, the kingdom of God is waiting in the wings. That is John’s message.

I think of our current situation in this country. Both the Tea Party and the Occupy movement have noted that things have not been right in our country – not for a long time. We have been focused so much on gaining the almighty dollar, that we have forgotten what it is for – to put food on the table, to keep roofs over people’s heads. The focus of our system has been on greed – hoarding rather than sharing. We have forgotten that we are here to take care of one another – not to see whether we can take advantage of one another. Judgment carries its own consequences. The results of this national sin have become apparent in the last couple of years, as we have born the fruits of this kind of thinking, and the economic system which has been built on greed has collapsed. Both of these movements attempt to address the problem, each in its own way. Things cannot continue as they have. We need to have a conversation in this country about the idolatry of money and power. Things seem rather bleak now, but for people of faith, this is actually a good time. It’s a time of hope. We do not need to cling to the past. We do not have to cling to our sin. We are called to be people of hope, people who ask, “What is God doing in this country? What is his judgment on us, and what is his promise for us? We can declare that there is another kingdom waiting in the wings – the kingdom of God. How can we prepare ourselves for the coming kingdom of love, of justice, of peace? How can we make a straight way for him?

On a more personal level, John also speaks to us, this Christmas season. Christmas is a hard time for many – especially those who have suffered the loss of a loved one, who may be grieving. For them, Christmas is an especially hard time. There are some of you who have lost loved ones, who remember the joys of Christmases past; there are folks whose children are far away, who won't be with them this year. The question is whether, in the midst of that seeming dislocation – grief in a time of joy, the absence of loved ones at a family time – whether there is any message of hope for you this season. And there are the many who get to the end of the season, and are just glad to see it gone, so life can get back to normal; those who hate the hedonism and materialism celebrated in the season; for those who think, “If I hear ‘Grandma got run over by a reindeer,’ one more time, I’m going to scream!” There are those for whom the promise of the season – a season that we are right in the heart of – still seems far away – who feel that this season of magic and mystery is for children, but not for them. Their hearts have grown weary. The magic of the season has grown stale. For all of these – does this season have any message?

John, this morning, as the Pharisees try to pigeon-hole him, tells them that God, indeed, is moving. It is a time for judgment on the shallowness, materialism, callousness, and self-serving ways of the world. It is a time for repentance. It is time to change both the spiritual and national agenda. But it is also a time for hope. The kingdom of God is, indeed, waiting in the wings, ready to come upon earth's stage. This is a time to prepare ourselves for its arrival, to make straight in the desert of this world, a highway for our God. It is a time to fill our hearts with hope, trusting in God's promises. It is a time to work for peace and justice – those signature marks of the kingdom. It is a time to draw close to God, for he is drawing ever closer to us.

God is waiting, with his kingdom in the wings. Advent is a time for repentance – a time to return to him, to change our paths and make them straight. For his kingdom is at hand.