The Hope of Doing
A sermon on Luke 3:7-18
[for an audio recording of this sermon, click here. Photo by Evan Dennis on Unsplash.]
If you read my December newsletter article, you may remember a quote I cited from researcher, author, and general font of wisdom Brene Brown.
One of the research topics that has been a focus of Dr. Brown’s research is the factors that influence resilience, and she recently shared a reflection on how hope plays a role in our capacity to cope with adversity.
She shared, “The research shows that hope is a powerful antidote to despair. What’s interesting, however, is that hope is not an emotion. Hope is a cognitive-behavioral process. It’s about having a goal, a pathway to achieve that goal, and a sense of urgency, or ‘I can do this.’”[1]
In my newsletter article, I argued, from this finding, that we need to cultivate practices of hope, patterns of behavior and thought that can nurture hope in our lives, especially in times when we feel overwhelmed or afraid.
Apparently, the people who heard John’s preaching in today’s gospel, did not need social-science research to come to the same conclusion.
They found themselves in anxiety-producing circumstances: the oppression and division of their nation, which we talked about last week, and then John’s dire warnings to the “brood of vipers” about God’s axe lying at the root of the trees, ready to cut down trees not bearing good fruit.
And their response was consistent: “What then should we do?”
It’s a request for guidance about how to go about bearing the fruit that John was exhorting, of course.
But I think it is also a commitment to building hope… a behavioral affirmation that they wanted the goal, and the pathway to achieve that goal that are necessary if we are to face challenges with hope, rather than with despair.
And in that very instinct, I already see some fruit of repentance… because it reflects a willingness to take responsibility for changing the patterns that inspired John’s ire.
There is no whining about the impending judgment “not being fair.”
There are no attempts to redirect blame onto another target.
The people want to actually fix the problems, so they ask the question that is required for hope: “what should we do?”
Now, before I get to John’s response to that question, I have to address the Lutheran objection to this line of interpretation:
“Pastor, what you’re describing sure sounds an awful lot like works righteousness! You can’t really be saying that John was telling the people they had to earn their salvation, can you?!”
The simple answer is, of course, “no!”
It is important to remember that John is just the prophet who prepares the way for the Savior. The message is not yet complete, although we get a smidgen more at the end of today’s reading.
But John’s teaching is preparatory. It opens our hearts to the message of Jesus, and I think an important part of that softening is the call into hope… the belief AND the accompanying actions shaped by the expectation that we can actually change.
And I think this is especially clear if we take off the individualistic glasses that our culture has placed in front of our eyes and recognize that hope is best built at the level of the community as a whole, not the self.
Which means that the practices of hope, the pathway to the goal, to borrow Brene Brown’s phrase, is walked communally.
Repentance is something we do collectively, because the changes we need are collective. The pronoun in the question “what should we do?” is essential.
So… what should WE do?
The question is first voiced by the crowds in general, with no additional context to clue us into what actions might be needed to generate hope and change in their lives and their society, until we hear John’s instruction:
“Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.”
(This is the point at which I wonder how many in the crowd started thinking about back-tracking to “that’s not fair” or “but what about [fill in a scape goat]”, because John just got REAL!)
Two coats is considered excess? Really?
And just having food? Not, so much food that it is going to waste, but just having food creates the obligation to share?
This is where that distinction between individualistic and communal thinking becomes clear, because the operative standard does not function on the level of whether the individual has reached a level of excess that requires them to share.
Rather, the standard is about the community:
Is there need?
Then, everyone in the community is obligated to address that need to the extent that they have the capacity.
Which means that the relevant detail about the crowd for understanding the repentance, or change, needed in their lives is the existence of need among their neighbors when there is capacity for that need to be met.
I other words, they are like pretty much every advanced society.
But there are two more specific groups described as well.
Tax collectors are a group we hear about a lot in the gospels, so you may already be familiar with the details of their position within the system of oppression in 1st Century Palestine.
The Roman Empire imposed taxes on all of the people in their subject states, but they commissioned local officials to actually collect the taxes.
And that commissioning gave the tax collectors the tacit authority to extort the people in their region, because they could charge in taxes as much as they thought they could collect, keeping the extra payments for themselves.
This was such a common practice that it was effectively part of the system of taxation, explaining why Luke’s narration in today’s reading says, “Even the tax collectors came…”
This language is an acknowledgement that no one would reasonably expect moral action from people who willingly participate in such a corrupt and exploitive system.
Which means that if even the tax collectors come to John seeking direction for “what we should do”, then John’s response applies all the more to anyone who merely passively benefits from any exploitive system.
Which, again, draws our attention to the collective nature of the hope John proclaims.
As individuals, we might be tempted to pass over John’s instructions to the tax collectors. Most of us are probably not in a position to “collect more than is prescribed for us,” and might not even be tempted to if we could, because we don’t want to think of ourselves as thieves.
But the problem isn’t a matter of bad actors, it’s in the system itself. Which is relevant for any of our systems of inequality that offer unfair benefits to some while depriving others.
Like school districts that offer wildly different resources because funding is based on local property values… And health care that is portioned out by ability to pay… and a justice system that is statistically proven to be racially biased… and countless other examples.
And it’s not as simple for us as just “not collecting more than is proscribed for you,” but it’s also not as simple as saying “that’s just how it works.”
Even with collective problems, we still need to ask “what should we do?”
Finally, we see soldiers come to John, and this is an interesting group because, in John’s context, these would be Romans… outsiders among those addressed by John’s challenge to not depend on their heritage as Abraham’s offspring to save them.
It seems that the sense of urgency of a path to follow is universal. Everyone is looking for hope (which, in a sense, is a reason for hope itself).
To this group John says, “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.”
This is another example, like tax collectors, of power within an unjust system misused for personal gain. But this time John calls out specific strategies of abuse: threats, and deception.
And suddenly this feels super relevant to our time and place:
To the culture of intimidation and normalized hostility that seems increasingly acceptable in our society.
To the casual negligence about truth, or at least about the responsibility to ensure that the information we share and base our decisions on is actually true in a context where that cannot be assumed.
Again, from the lens of community we cannot deflect John’s challenge by focusing on the justification that we are not extorting money. We are part of this culture that is the reason so many are losing hope.
Which means that the path of action is to counteract the hostility and deception that is causing the problem.
Now, I don’t know what all you might be feeling in response to John’s direct answers to the question, “what should we do?”… (I know I feel… at least challenged by some of them), but I encourage you to consider how those who heard John’s words responded:
They were, “filled with expectation.”
Expectation is an expression of hope! Evidence that they believed that they could live by these guidelines and that these teachings would actually change their reality.
Of course, John is careful to caution against hearing this teaching as the end of the story: he is NOT the Messiah.
But he does lean into the hope, because he promises that the one to come, “will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”
I hear that promise as the assurance that Jesus will, in fact, make the transformed way of living that John commands actually possible.
And that’s why this passage isn’t calling us onto a path of works righteousness.
It’s not about us earning God’s approval, but being empowered by God to live into the practices that are a valid foundation for hope that the brokenness and corruption and inequality of the world can be changed.
Do you remember that quote from Brene Brown about hope being a cognitive behavioral process?
She explained that there are three elements necessary for hope: a goal, a pathway to achieve that goal, and the belief that we can achieve it.
John gave the people the first two elements in his exhortations. Jesus gives us the last.
Because we don’t have to change our lives or our world on our own. Jesus has given us his Spirit, that gives us the fire, the power, to do what seems impossible to us.
John called this good news, and I agree.
Thanks be to God.
Comments