Mark 1:1-8 (Isaiah
40:1-11)
The
first day of kindergarten for Zach was an exciting one. I tell this story with
his permission. I was concerned about sending him to kindergarten because he
has a summer birthday. The thinking in the schools where we lived was that boys
with summer birthdays – meaning they turned 5 just before they started school –
were generally not as mature or as prepared to begin school as kids who were a
little bit older. We had been warned by a teacher about sending him to school
just yet because he was young, and he was shy at first. He needed time to get
to know the other kids and his circumstances before he would just jump into
something. That was just Zach, I told the teacher. He was naturally shy at
first, and needed to get to know his surroundings. If we waited for him to
change, he would never start school.
So
I was nervous. Plus, I already knew how wrenching it was to send a child off to
Kindergarten. We drove by the school grounds on Phoebe’s first day, so I could
make sure the school was still standing and that my little girl was safe. Zach
was, is my baby. Sending him off to kindergarten was its own kind of
bittersweet. But Zach was so excited about starting school. He could not wait!
So we did what you do to get ready; the night before we had his clothes picked
out and ready. We had purchased all of the required supplies. He had his little
backpack. That morning I went into his room to wake him up, saying,
“Zach,
it’s the first day of kindergarten. It’s time to get up.”
The
first day of kindergarten! He jumped out of bed. He got dressed with no prompting
or pushing from me. He ate a good, healthy breakfast. Then we loaded into the
car, and went to school. I admit to wiping away a few tears when I left that
morning. My baby was in kindergarten.
Zach
came home that night just as excited as he was in the morning. It was a great day.
He made friends. He played. He loved kindergarten! My relief was palpable. I
went to bed calm and confident that sending Zach to kindergarten, even though
he had just turned 5, was the right decision. The next morning I went into his
room, prepared for the same excitement as the day before. I said,
“Zach,
it’s time to get up! It’s time to go to kindergarten!”
He
rolled over and looked at me with shock.
“You
mean I have to go again?”
Somehow
Zach had not understood that kindergarten was more than just a one day
extravaganza. Kindergarten was just the beginning. It was just the beginning of
years of school yet to come. That first day of kindergarten was just the
beginning, and it was the first and last time Zach ever really enjoyed getting
up for school.
Mark’s
gospel does not use the word “just” in the first verse of this first chapter,
but to me it is implied. I know that what is written is “The beginning of the
good news of Jesus Christ, the son of God,” but I hear, “This is just the
beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the son of God.”
Mark
was not one to waste words. There is no birth story in his gospel. There are no
choirs of angels, no heralding from the heavens. There are no shepherds
guarding their sheep or wise ones compelled to travel from the East. Unlike
another poetic entrance into the story of Jesus, Mark does not have time for
lush imagery. We will read the word “immediately,” in Mark’s gospel again and
again, because for Mark this story is urgent. There is work to be done and good
news to share. Jesus, in Mark’s earthy gospel, was on the move, so Mark’s
account had to get right down to business.
This
is what the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, was
about. The prophet Isaiah told of a messenger who would be sent ahead to
prepare the way. He would be one crying out in the wilderness,
“Prepare
the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.”
And
that one was John the baptizer; a strange dude who dined on insects and wore
scratchy, coarse clothing. John came out of the wilderness “proclaiming a
baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.”
In
Mark’s beginning, there was no need for a back story about Jesus. The
prophecies of old were back story enough. John the baptizer was not the
messiah, but he was the messenger foretold. He came to get the word out about
the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. He came to let the people know
that God’s promises were still alive and well and being fulfilled. He came to
let people know that God was still at work in the world and in their midst,
just as Isaiah had prophesied. He came to share the good news, and this was
just the beginning.
Just
the beginning; key words I think, critical words. It is easy, sometimes, to
think of the story of Jesus as ancient history. After all, his birth happened
over 2,000 years ago. Whether we mean to or not, we often celebrate it as a
remembrance; a fond memory. We wax nostalgic about years gone by. We relive old
times in the church and in our families. But the truth is that every Advent we
prepare for something that is happening new, in the present, right now. It
isn’t that Jesus the man will be born as a baby in a distant land once again –
or maybe he will be. It is that God’s promises are still at play. They are
still active and being fulfilled. That is the comfort we hear in Isaiah.
“Comfort,
O comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem ,
and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she
has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins.”
Not
only did God speak comfort to Israel
through Isaiah, God issued a new call. Get up to a high mountain. Lift up your
voice with glad tidings and with strength. Lift up your voice, Jerusalem
and tell the cities of Judah ,
“Here is your God!”
We
sometimes miss that this is a dialogue happening between God and Isaiah. At
first Isaiah seems to see no point in speaking to the people, in telling them
to prepare a way in the wilderness, because people are inconstant. They are
like the grass in the field. They flower, they wither, they die.
But
God responded by telling him to share the good news anyway. The good news is
not dependent on the constancy of the people. The good news of God is not
dependent on circumstances – after all God spoke these words to a people in
exile. The good news goes beyond any human endeavor and any human limitations.
Even
in exile, even when the people are fickle and random and inconstant, preach the
good news, share the glad tidings. Comfort, o comfort my people. The time and
space between Isaiah and Mark become nothing, because Mark furthers the message
of the prophet. This is just the beginning of the good news…
While
we may not be living in exile like the people of Israel ,
nor are we confronted with a strange messenger such as John the baptizer, how
much, how badly do we need to hear that the good news of God is just beginning?
How badly do we need to be reminded that God’s promises for us, for all
creation are still alive, still being fulfilled, and there is still more to
come?
We
may not be in exile, but the world around us seems no less threatening, hostile
and strange than it must have seemed to the Israelites. We may not be living
under direct oppression, but unjust rulers still rule and the powers and
principalities still wage war against the kingdom
of God Israel
did.
But
if the good news is not an ancient story, if the good news is not just
something in the past, over and done with in the life, death and resurrection
of Jesus; if, in fact, this is just the beginning of the good news of Jesus
Christ, the Son of God, then we are not without hope. In truth, hope is alive
and well and here in our midst. Because the good news is a story of hope and
God’s promises are about hope. Hope lies at the heart of the gospel, and this
is just the beginning. That is good news indeed. That is good news. It’s just
the beginning.
Let
all of God’s children say, “Alleluia!” Amen.
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