In the fifteenth year of the rule of the emperor Tiberius—when Pontius Pilate was governor over Judea and Herod was ruler over Galilee, his brother Philip was ruler over Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias was ruler over Abilene, 2 during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas—God’s word came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. 3 John went throughout the region of the Jordan River, calling for people to be baptized to show that they were changing their hearts and lives and wanted God to forgive their sins (Luke 3:1-3, CEB)
Those are the opening words to the third chapter 
of the Gospel of Luke. Just before today’s reading, the stage is set for John the Baptist’s ministry “by introducing an A-list of Earthly Powers: an emperor, a governor, three tetrarchs, and two high priests. Together they represent rulers of the known world, the regional lands, and the religious, political, and economic complex that stands at the heart of Jerusalem. Collectively they hold all the authority and might that wealth, military prowess, or ancestry can command” (Audrey West, Working Preacher).
Despite the power and domination which hold captive this corner of the universe, Luke is clear that God’s prophetic word doesn’t show up in any of these influential leaders. Instead, God’s word comes to a lone man out in the wilderness, just beyond the bounds and reach of their territories. God’s word comes to John, son of Zechariah. This divine, prophetic word from God comes to John to prepare the way of the Lord, to change people’s hearts and lives so that they’d be ready to receive God’s word to come.
I confess that when I discern and imagine and pray about what words might come from God to prepare our hearts each week, never once has opening with “You brood of vipers…” come to mind. So John’s big opener here is…well, a choice. You can see why I’ve struggled to understand this text showing up on the third Sunday Advent when we’re supposed to be focused on joy. But this week, I came across a reflection by author, speaker, and Episcopalian priest Barbara Brown Taylor which helped contextualize this a bit more. She explains it this way:
John the Baptist has always seemed to me like the Doberman pinscher of the gospel. In the lectionary, he always appears right before Christmas, when no one’s defenses are up. Here we are trying to get to the stable in Bethlehem. We are not hurrying. We have set a respectable pace, and with just weeks to go it really is in sight—that starlit barn where everything is about to happen. It is right up ahead there, with people already gathering around it, and for those of us who love it, it is all we can see.
We aren’t thinking about the few dark blocks that still separate us from it when all of a sudden—GRRROW-ROW-ROW!!!—this big old dog with a spiky collar has got us by the ankle. “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” Before he is through, our heads are pounding with vipers, wrath, axes, and unquenchable fire, when all we really wanted was a chance to sing “O Holy Night.”
And yet there is no getting around him. Every single Gospel writer introduces Jesus by talking about John, which means that in some way or another the Doberman is God’s idea. John is the watchdog who makes sure no one wanders into holy precincts unaware. He is the guard dog, who tests all those who think they want in. Anyone who cannot handle him cannot handle the one who comes after him. As different as they will turn out to be, John’s judgment precedes Jesus’ grace. They go together, like night and day, because those who know nothing of judgment need nothing of grace (God in Pain).
To be ready for grace, then, we must be prepared for judgement. In that context, suddenly “Brood of vipers!” with all its in-your-face attention grabbing makes sense. John’s urgency is about snapping us out of complacency so that we might repent to be ready for the love-filled grace that’s coming our way. Verse 8 gets to the heart of his call to us: “Bear fruits worthy of repentance.” The Common English Bible translates that this way: “Produce fruit that shows you have changed your hearts and lives.”
Despite whatever modern American, Protestant baggage we may have picked up along the way about repentance, the Greek word used here (metanoia) fundamentally means to change our hearts and minds. I love how The Message paraphrases this section of today’s reading: “Brood of snakes! What do you think you’re doing slithering down here to the river? Do you think a little water on your snakeskins is going to deflect God’s judgment? It’s your life that must change, not your skin” (The Message).
Our hearts and minds, our very lives must be changed if they are to be prepared for the coming of God’s grace. Otherwise, as we hear in verse 9, “The ax is already at the root of the trees. Therefore, every tree that doesn’t produce good fruit will be chopped down and tossed into the fire.” There’s John “the Doberman” Baptist again. Other pastors are hip to this image of our wilderness prophet; one of them writes: “John barks. His baptism is useless without intent on its participants’ part. Human power is part of the fuel for repentance and John intended his baptism as a purposeful commitment to a new way of living as one of God’s people” (Chelsey Harmon, Center for Excellence in Preaching).
To their credit, the crowds who came to John seem to still be listening and engaged! Hearing these harsh words, some of them ask: “What then should we do?” In other words, what does this life look like? How do we respond?
And much to my surprise (and perhaps yours), John’s response…isn’t that radical. “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none, and whoever has food must do likewise.” “Do the good that is yours to do,” John says. This is not “sell everything you have and give the money to the poor.” This bar feels pretty reasonable and doable.
Even the tax collectors and soldiers, the ancient “those people” known for their self-interest and lack of community-mindedness, want to know what their role is in this, and again, it’s not terribly difficult: “Collect no more than you are authorized to collect” and “Don’t cheat or harass anyone, and be satisfied with your pay.” Simply: “Do the good that is yours to do.”
But if everyone does their part, this changed-heart way of living can have radical implications. Here, “everything John describes are things that we humans can do under our own strength. They are the good side of human nature. We are capable of doing good, of being different” (Chelsey Harmon). This shift away from self-interest and toward community-mindedness must be striking to John’s hearers because the text tells us that “The people were filled with expectation, and everyone wondered whether John might be the Christ.”
The life of the baptized, then, is to be a life of repentance and forgiveness, a life of mercy and righteousness, a life of good news for all. Even as the world is ruled by indomitable forces of power and wealth, even when it feels like the whole global economic system could crush humanity at any moment, we are reminded by this insistent Doberman-bark call to live differently precisely because the world as we know it is ending. And that’s John’s point. That with the coming of Christ, everything will change. Everything will be transformed. One biblical commentator powerfully describes it this way:
The world where justice seems so often neglected and the winners are those who know how to work the system for their own gain—this world is coming to an end. The world that makes billionaires and people starving to death exist side-by-side is coming to an end. The world of police states and tax havens is coming to an end. The world where violence against women and children and the human cost of war is all too common, it is coming to an end. The world where evil, or even more sinister, a simple apathy to the common good can feel like it has the upper hand—that world is coming to an end. The list could go on and on…
Like the ax ready at the root, Jesus comes in the incarnation filled with the Holy Spirit, living a life of purity. He will come again at the final judgement where the Spirit will, again, use a purifying and refining fire to bring an end to everything in this world that does not belong to the good news Kingdom. The awful world, as we know it, truly is coming to an end.
And that, my friends, is Good News which might just help us be an Advent people of deeper joy.
And “perhaps a different way of asking John’s question about fleeing the wrath to come is to pair it with God’s invitation enveloped in the baptism of repentance and forgiveness of sins: When the world ends and all that’s left of you is what is of God and [God’s] Kingdom, will you be able to recognize yourself?” (Chelsey Harmon).
We hope and pray and live and work for that to be so, remembering that in coming birth of Jesus, God enters this time and this space in this period of history, so that all might bear fruits worthy of repentance. Produce fruit that shows you have changed your hearts and lives. May we be people of hope, people of peace, people of joy. Friends, do the good that is yours to do. This day and each day. Amen.
Breath Prayer:
INHALE: God of goodness,
EXHALE: Guide the work of my heart and my hands.
Breath Prayer:
INHALE: In you, O God,
EXHALE: I find my worth.
Charge/Blessing: You are a blessing—known, chosen, and called for a purpose. May you boldly live into this truth, recognizing and cherishing your inherent worth so that you may honor God’s image in others. Trust in your belovedness as you enter the redemptive work God has invited you into this Advent season.