We are all John the Baptist (Nov 23, Christ the King)

Readings, Colossians 1:11-20 and Luke 1:68-79
Image, Matthias Grünewald, The Crucifixion (part of Isenheim Altarpiece), 1512-1516
 
There’s a famous painting on an altar in Isenheim. It’s a crucifixion scene painted by Matthias Grünewald, which anachronistically places John the Baptist at the foot of the cross pointing to Christ. The painting was a favourite of C20th Swiss theologian, Karl Barth, in part because the role of Christian as witness – the Christian as the one who points to Christ – was pivotal to his work. Those words in the painting over John’s gesture, record that immortal and vital motto not only of John, but of the Christian witness: He must increase, but I must decrease. The role of John the Baptist, the painting (and Barth) implies, is thus not a one-off.
 
John was distinct in that he was called by God to prepare the way before the first advent of Jesus. But all of us are now called to this office, to prepare the way of the arrival of Christ in hearts and minds through pointing to Christ’s completed work on the cross and his awaited advent when he comes again in glory. John the Baptist, as the one who points to Christ, thus prefigures the Christian witness – John is, who we are to be.
 
And so what is said of him (or more specifically, what is said of him in relation to Christ) applies also to us. What Zechariah sings over him in his infancy, is thus sung over us in baptism: go and prepare his ways, give knowledge of salvation, point to the One who comes in the name of the Lord. What the immanent advent of Christ means for John and his life’s purpose and commission, it means too for us and our life’s purpose and commission. For the tender mercy of God dawns anew for us as well, the light of the gospel shines too on us, to guide our feet into the way of peace.
 
What better reminder to prepare us for Advent; the season by which we learn again what it means to be set apart to hasten and wait for the coming of Christ by reflecting on that first coming that John was set apart to prepare. A reminder that we have been called into service of Christ, in whom all things hold together. A reminder that we have been rescued from death so as to serve without fear the one in whom the fullness of God was pleased to dwell. A reminder that we have been sent as ambassadors by the one through whom God was pleased to reconcile all things. A reminder that we point to the act of God who made peace on the cross, and so guides our feet in the way of peace.
 
It is also a reminder that helps us prepare to observe and engage with these 16 Days of Activism Against Gender Based Violence. I’ve preached in the past about what Christ the King offers this convergence of dates. That the confession of Christ’s sovereignty can serve to subvert and dismantle the desires of those to set up their own little kingdoms in their homes, to rule and control those around them. The authority of Christ brings judgment upon all earthly claims to authority, reminding us of their provisionally and requiring them to conform to Christ’s own particular way.
 
But today’s focus on the response of the witness, which is the call of the disciple, also reminds us that pointing to the cross is not only a gesture, but a path of peace which we walk. A path we find in the light of the tender mercy of God, dawning on us from on high. This is part of what the kingly language of Christ (for all its limits) still offers, that allegiance shapes a certain kind of life, a particular way of walking through the world.
 
This way of peace should not only inform our own relations as individual Christians, but how our community, as a community of Christ’s witnesses, engages the world. For the one through whom God reconciled the world charged us to be ambassadors of reconciliation, the one through whom God made peace by the cross, called us to be a people of peace, the one who God sent to rescue us from sin did so that we might serve him without fear. And one way we serve God is to be restless with the current state, and agitate for something else. Because this points – by way of the cross – to what the cross promises: the coming again of Christ and with him the fullness of God’s kingdom which will be free of violence, exploitation, tyranny, and indignity. In such restless agitation we walk the way of peace in pursuit of the Prince of Peace through whom and for whom all things have been created.
 
It is perhaps significant for our own purposes that the main story we have of John the Baptist, besides the one by which he earnt his moniker, is that which resulted in his death. That is to say, what we know of John’s ministry from the gospels – besides is most explicit pointing to Christ at the banks of the Jordan – is his ardent commitment to speaking out against Herod for taking his brother’s wife. The risk John took to insist on justice in all spheres, public and domestic (for the two are not so inseparable as might sometimes be asserted). Walking the way of peace, of making straight the paths, of pointing to the one who was sent by God, led John to also point out sin and injustice. Once more, we might say, John here prefigures the task of the Christian.
 
Christ is King, and in a moment we will celebrate this day and with it the end of the liturgical year, by standing to affirm our faith, our allegiance to this king. As we do, we remember that, as for John, the coming of this king gives us a task and a purpose, a call and commission. We live, like that anachronistic John on the Isenheim altarpiece, to point to Christ in word, witness, and service, guided by the tender mercy of our God, which dawns from on high to guide our feet into the way of peace.