Saving the Brood of Vipers

Advent III; December 17, 2006

Luke 3:7-18

This week I’m going to break from my usual style and talk through the text with you; I think that’s the best way to discover what God is saying to you and me through it today. Remember the background to it: last week’s reading introduced the work of John the Baptist and identified him as the one whose job was to proclaim, “Prepare the way of the Lord.”

So here’s the picture: John is standing in the River Jordan, baptizing people. That is, he is dunking them in the river if he has found a spot deep enough to do that, or he’s scooping up water and pouring it over their heads. In any event, he’s getting people plenty wet as a sign that they repent of their wicked ways. He starts preaching and using his best Dale Carnegie technique, trying to win friends and influence people, he says to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?” Nice touch, isn’t it? He looks at the mass of people and in his imagination he sees a nest of poisonous snakes. If you remember the film Raiders of the Lost Ark, the image I have is of that mass of snakes in the old tomb in the Egyptian desert; Indiana Jones says, “It would be snakes.” John’s snakes, though, are poisonous.

So, having got off on the right foot by calling his hearers a writhing mass of poisonous snakes who are trying to slither away from judgment, he then changes the metaphor. Now they are a grove of trees and he warns them to bear fruit that befits repentance or else they will be cut down. Now, despite having got off on a harsh note, this is actually a worthwhile point. Throughout the Bible, when you see people repent, what do they do? What did the people of Nineveh do in the Book of Jonah? They fasted and took off their nice clothes and dressed in burlap. Did they change their ways? Not so anyone would notice. But John says that if you want to repent, don’t just come down to the river and get washed, but start acting like a person who is changing your ways.

You surely get the metaphor. If you have an apple tree, what do you do with it when it no longer bears fruit? You might chop it down and use it for firewood. So John warns his hearers that unless they bear some pretty good apples, God is going to use them for firewood.

Here’s a story a friend sent me. A driver did the right thing, stopping at the crosswalk, even though he could have beaten the red light by accelerating through the intersection. The tailgating woman behind him went ballistic, pounding on her horn and screaming in frustration as she missed her chance to get through the intersection. Still in mid-rant, she heard a tap on her window and looked up into the face of a very serious police officer. He asked for her license and registration and took them back to his cruiser for processing. After some time, he returned and apologized for holding her up for so long. She asked what the problem had been. He said, “Well, I pulled up behind you while you were blowing your horn, flipping the guy off in front you and apparently cussing a blue streak at him. I noticed the ‘What Would Jesus Do?’ bumper sticker, the ‘Follow Me to Sunday School’ bumper sticker and the chrome Christian fish emblem on the trunk. So naturally I assumed that you had stolen the car.” Bear fruits worthy of repentance.

Notice how the crowd reacts. John calls them a bunch of snakes and warns them of the coming judgment, and they say, “What should we do?” Isn’t that great? “What should we do?” That’s not what I would expect; I expect some of them to say, “Dear, please change the channel to ‘Adalbert, the Sewer Rat Who Saves Christmas’” and others to say, “You should not call us ‘snakes;’ you’ll hurt our self-esteem.” No, they ask the Prophet for some specific advice on bearing fruit worthy of repentance.

John’s advice is basic justice and compassion. If you have more than you need to keep warm, give clothes to others; if you have more than you need to eat, give food to others. It’s great that he says, “Whoever has two coats must give one away,” not, “Whoever has ten coats must give one away.” Of course, it’s an era in which people don’t own as many clothes as we do. That was true through most of human history, until the modern era of unparalleled prosperity. You may have been in an older home with no closets built in, just some pegs on the wall. People didn’t own so many clothes that they needed closets. So, to have two coats showed that one was fairly well-off. In any event, you and I can’t wear more than one coat at a time, so in John’s mind there is no point in owning two. I disagree; I like being able to wear different clothes every day, but I hear his point. I think it behooves me to remember to give clothes away whenever I have more than I need, and not just when they are starting to get worn out. In fact, the ones I give away should be as good as the ones I keep.

Those who work for the government are told to be satisfied with their wages and not extort more money out of people. This is not an argument against taxation or against soliciting campaign contributions; you will not get such arguments from the Bible. But it is an argument against bribes and using force and intimidation to get more out of people than they owe. All of these answers to the people’s questions add up to a standard of honesty and generosity in dealing with others. You don’t have to be a Christian to live by that standard, but you can hardly be a Christian and not live by that standard.

Then John continues his preaching by talking about the Messiah. John is a rather charismatic figure: wild, rough-cut and plain-speaking. He lives in an era of Messianic expectation, when people are looking for that figure who will come and make everything right. He sounds like a good candidate, but he immediately points to someone else, to the One Who Is to Come. Incidentally, that’s why we read this so late in Advent. We’re focusing on the One Who Is to Come. And John says some startling things about this One. The Messiah is powerful, John says. John, as charismatic and important as he is, is not worthy of doing the duty of a slave. It’s a slave’s duty, in that culture, to untie a man’s sandals; John isn’t even good enough to be thought of as the Messiah’s slave. “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

What do you suppose people think after words like that? This Messiah is amazing stuff; he’s going to sweep in and clean house. All the sinners – the vipers that don’t get baptized and bear fruits worthy of repentance, continuing to mix our metaphors – will get what’s coming to them. John then picks up another metaphor: threshing grain. The wheat is taken to the threshing floor; with a winnowing fork it is tossed into the air. The breeze blows the chaff away from the grain and the grain is gathered to be put to good use. And the chaff – all those unrepentant sinners – the chaff will be burned with unquenchable fire.

Then Luke concludes, “So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people.” “Good news”?! Yes, it is good news, from a certain point of view. Actually, from two points of view. It is good news if you know for certain that you are not one of those sinners who is going to be burned with unquenchable fire, if you know that you not only do all the right ritual things – get baptized, go to church, tithe your income, say your prayers and read your Bible – but you also live with honesty and compassion. If you know for certain that you measure up to John’s standard, then you might look forward to seeing all those other people get what’s coming to them.

But it is also good news from another point of view, the one I urge you to take. It is good news if you are looking for the Messiah and are happy to hear John telling you that he is coming. You might want to keep in mind that John will be disappointed in what he gets. Jesus is not the sort of Messiah John seems to be expecting, but the sort of Messiah the world actually needs. But that’s another sermon.

So, Brood of Vipers, here is what we are left with: Messiah is coming. He comes to judge, and rather than slither away and hope to hide or risk being fruitless trees and getting used for the only thing they are good for – firewood – how about bearing fruits worthy of repentance? Living in honesty and generosity will not save you, but it will show that you are saved.

The coming Messiah is the One who makes it possible for tired old trees like some of us to continue to bear fruit, the One who takes a life and makes it significant enough to fall to the threshing floor as good grain, rather than blow away on the wind with the chaff. John didn’t get everything right, but the most important thing he got dead on: Messiah is coming.

Robert A. Keefer

Westminster Presbyterian Church

Clarinda, Iowa