Food trucks have been around for a very long time, but in recent years they have really gone upscale, with dishes rivaling fine restaurants. In some cities there are areas set up where food trucks congregate, around some picnic tables, making an outdoor food court on a gravel patch. People flock to them.
They were popular in Dayton, Ohio when we lived there. We encountered some food truck connoisseurs loved to talk about their favorites, and one of these at the time was a certain hot dog truck. Zombie Dogs. At food festivals you might see hundreds of people lined up for this one. People would wait two hours in line for a Zombie Dog. And then they would rave about how good they were. They were “amazing” or “to die for.” Best hot dogs ever.
However, it is my opinion that if someone has waited in line two hours for a hot dog, what else are they going to say? “It was okay. Not sure it was worth the two hours of my life. But my time isn’t worth a whole lot and I’m a pretty patient woman. So it was okay.”
No one’s going to say that. We’d like to believe that the things we have done were worth it. We want to believe that the things we have devoted our time and money and commitment to have been worthy of it. We want to believe that we didn’t really make a mistake.
Which is why it is remarkable that John the Baptizer is so frank with his doubts.
“Are you the one, or are we to wait for another?” John wants to know. Did he make a mistake when he pointed to Jesus? Has he wasted his life, preparing people for this man whom he believed to be the long-awaited Messiah? Has he put his life on the line for the wrong man? John wants to know. It’s important.
He thought his work was done. His ministry had accomplished what it was meant to accomplish. But sitting in Herod’s prison with way too much time on his hands and nothing to occupy his hands, John is plagued by second thoughts.
His mind is not at peace, because he is afraid he has given his commitment to the wrong man. And that the long-awaited messiah is still out there somewhere, waiting for John – or someone like John – to make a way for him.
And we might wonder why he is experiencing these doubts. Perhaps simply because he doesn’t have enough to occupy his mind. But perhaps it is because he is not seeing evidence of what he expected the messiah to do and be.
John is just not sure. The expectations that were set forth by the prophets of Israel have not been met. The desert is still dry. The jackals still slaughter the gazelles. Humans still wage war on one another. The world is still broken. So there is reason to question: Are you the one, Jesus; the one we have been waiting for?
John expressed the doubts that many people had. And truthfully, the doubts have never gone away.
We might not think about them on most ordinary days, but there are moments in life when the doubts cannot be denied. I am reminded of Henry Longfellow’s poem, Christmas Bells.
I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
and wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Till ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Beautiful images. But Longfellow had more to say:
And in despair I bowed my head;
“There is no peace on earth,” I said;
“For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”
Longfellow wrote these words on a Christmas day during the middle of the American Civil War. It was, I imagine, a time when hopes for peace were deeply challenged. Surely there were many who had a hard time keeping their doubts at bay. For many, songs of peace rang hollow.
Much like John the Baptizer, who, wasting away in Herod’s prison, was beginning to feel hollowed out.
He sent his disciples to speak with Jesus. To ask him directly. Are you the one we have been waiting for? Or should we wait for another? Are you going to do it, Jesus, the things we have been waiting for? Or should we keep looking?
Their questions provoked Jesus to speak to the crowds in a challenging way. He asked them some of his own questions: What were you waiting for? What were you looking for? What is it you wanted to see? A reed swayed by the wind, whatever way the wind is blowing? Someone dressed in soft robes, red-carpet-ready? What were you looking for – to be entertained?
The questions are still worthy of being asked. What are we waiting for? What are we looking for? What are we expecting out of this season of Advent and Christmas?
A church in southern California has been in the news recently for the nativity display they erected outside their church. Mary, Joseph, and the infant are each set in their own cage, separated from one another. The baby is swaddled in a mylar blanket. The message is clear.
This congregation is asking the question: What if this family, who were refugees in their own time, sought refuge here today?
Some have criticized them for putting an ugly face on the holiday. Some have criticized them for dragging politics into the holiday. Some have criticized them for being attention seekers. Of course, it’s clear they were looking for attention; otherwise they might have put the display inside their building. But outdoor displays are always seeking attention, and it’s really a matter of what message they want to draw attention to. This congregation chose to draw attention to the plight of refugees in our land, and to declare their belief that this is a sign of the kind of brokenness Jesus came to fix, to heal, to redeem.
No question, it is political. But here’s the thing: There is so much we are seeing in the world that causes all kinds of pain. We are angry, we are sad, we are worried. We are sick with grief. But because we cannot fix it, we ignore it. We push it aside. Yet it doesn’t go away. And the pain – the anger, the sorrow, the worries, they don’t go away.
Maybe that is why there is so much grief just below the surface of our holiday cheer. If people of faith cannot look at the things that plague us through a lens of faith, then what is our faith for? Indeed, it is only when we can see the suffering in the world – our own and others – through the eyes of faith, is there any hope for the suffering to be healed.
So what do we, as the church, want to say to the world during this season?
Does our message of hope honestly acknowledge the suffering, the hopelessness that is in our midst?
Does our message of peace hold up against the real ugliness of war in our world?
Does our message of love look unflinchingly at the cruel treatment of human beings, including the systematic mistreatment at the hands of government?
People of faith do not have the luxury of compartmentalizing. Because we have a savior who was born into the most precarious of circumstances, vulnerable and at the mercy of those with cruel power. We have a savior who suffered in ways that is too hard for most of us to imagine. Our faith story doesn’t float above the fray – it lives right down in the thick of it. And it cuts right through the worst the world has to give.
The world will continue to wage war. It will continue to show cruelty beyond comprehension. But the gospel of Jesus Christ cuts a swath right through it. Hear the words of Jesus: Open your eyes to see; unstop your ears to hear; understand: the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed. The deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor receive good news.
One person at a time.
Yes, the world is still broken. But if we open our eyes, unstop our ears, understand, we might be a part of the healing.
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Photo: In the WaitingRoom. By Helen Gatch – https://www.loc.gov/pictures/resource/ds.00168/, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=77365348
