Reflection on the Third Sunday of Advent

The theme this third Sunday of Advent, like all of Advent itself, is about expectations. Those of you who have heard me talk before will expect a short explanation of the root of the word “expectation.” And you will not be disappointed. From the Latin, “expectare,” it means to look outward and into the future, waiting with confidence for a certain outcome. Expectation doesn’t mean imagining something or wishing for something. Expectation is not discernment. The confidence that is characteristic of an expectation comes from our opinions or experience, and this explains why sometimes we are deeply disappointed and shocked when our confident waiting does not result in what we want. 

The story in Matthew describes the difference between what the people around Jesus expected and what they got. At the time of this story, John the Baptist is in prison. Before too long he will be beheaded. He has known Jesus all his life — they are only about six months apart in age. Their mothers are described as cousins, so he is a blood relative of Jesus. The story about him is that he knew very early on in his life that he was to “prepare the way” for the Messiah. He took this calling very seriously. He lived an austere life in the desert, eating locusts and wild honey. Many of you know that locusts are even today served at roadside stands in Africa and the Middle East. I once ate a fried locust. I like to be adventurous in my eating, but one locust was enough. Super crunchy. Tastes like chicken. The idea of eating them day in and day out, even if dipped in honey, is not appealing. 

John believed his calling was getting people ready to receive the Messiah by having them repent of their sins. The symbol of this repentance is baptism. John was quite famous in Palestine. Not only is he mentioned in all four Gospels, plus the Acts of the Apostles but also in the history that Josephus Flavius wrote. There is little doubt that he existed, that King Herod knew him and John felt comfortable criticizing Herod and his wife. There is little doubt that Herod had him killed. 

John had disciples, and many people would seek him out at the Jordan river to be baptized.  By the time of this story, John has already baptized Jesus and seen the Holy Spirit descend on Jesus, saying, “This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.” So why does John send his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one or are we to wait for another?”  

Of course, we don’t know, but I wonder if the expectation John had of his cousin was not met. Many people of that time expected the Messiah to be a revolutionary. Today’s readings emphasize that when the Messiah comes, Scripture will be fulfilled — the disabled will walk, the hungry will be fed, the poor will have enough. In the minds of many people at that time, this could only happen by overthrowing the Romans.  

So when we read that Jesus says to tell John, “… those with leprosy are cured, those who are deaf hear, the dead are raised to life …” and so on, he is not giving John what he expected. And, I imagine John and his disciples also wondered, “If you can do all this, Jesus, why can’t you get John out of prison?” Their expectations were not being met.   

Similarly, when Jesus says to the crowd, “What did you go out to the desert to see?”  He addresses their expectations in a surprising way. Jesus says, “history has not known a person greater than John the Baptist, yet the least person is greater than John.” This must have sounded so odd:  here is Jesus, who might be the Messiah, saying John is the greatest person who ever lived, yet the least person is greater than the greatest. And, anyway, when is Jesus going to call for overthrowing the Romans? 

 Think back to times your expectations were not met, where your ideas in which you had great confidence, turned out not to be accurate. I think of a time far more pedestrian than today’s Gospel. Some 30 years ago, I had two cats, Myles and Rosie. I loved them dearly. One day Rosie disappeared. I searched high and low for her. I hired a firm to put up reward posters all over my neighborhood. I went house to house telling people to call me if they saw her, no matter what time. I hired a psychic, which doesn’t sound so weird when you live in California. I was confident she would be found. No sign of her. After about two months, someone from the Humane Society called and described a cat that could be Rosie. My wife said, “Don’t get your hopes up,” and I said I wouldn’t. But when I got there and the cat wasn’t Rosie, I felt crushed. The volunteer at the shelter said, “Why don’t you take this cat? She is very sweet, she gets along with other cats, and she needs a home. No one wants an adult cat — they want kittens, and we are having a hard time getting her adopted.” But I was too focused on Rosie and said no.  So I went home without Rosie and without this other cat. 

What is the lesson here? My expectation — my looking outward and forward — caused me to miss what was right in front of me:  a cat who needed a home which I could have provided. Notice now the nature of Jesus’ answer to John’s disciples. He doesn’t say “Yes, I am the one. We are meeting and moving forward.”  He names what he is doing right in the moment: “the deaf hear, the blind see.”

This Advent, could we set our expectations a little closer to home? What can I do right now to be kind? To be helpful?  To be a witness? Let us not miss this moment because we are so forward focused. Let us not miss what we can do now because we cling to an idea of what we should be doing later.  Jesus, this Advent we ask for your help in managing our expectations. Amen.