The Gospel according to Mark gives us no adoring cherubs, no sweet little Jesus boy, not even a manger. In fact, Mark writes not one word about the birth of Jesus. He begins with a reference back to the prophetic writings of the Hebrew scriptures in words which draw from Isaiah and from Malachi. Both those references are pointing toward the day of the Lord, a time when God will be fully present with God's people. Mark's early readers probably would have known the rest of the context. In Malachi it is an ominous announcement, for it is followed by a comparison of the coming of the Lord to a refiner's fire in which no one can stand. In Isaiah it is followed by the promise that every valley shall be lifted up and every mountain and hill be made low. As always, the Gospel comes with the reminder that it is God's word and therefore it is both comfort for us in our need and demand on us in our settled comfort.

Mark begins with ancient prophecy echoed in his own day by a messenger who both announces the fulfillment of ancient promises and proclaims a change for which we cannot be fully prepared. With John the Baptizer, this angular fellow in his outrageous get-up, with his bizarre diet and his difficult words, we find the place where the Gospel begins.

I'm reading Mark 1:1-8 from the New Revised Standard Version. Listen for the Word of God:

The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ the Son of God. As it is written in the prophet Isaiah, "See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you who will prepare your way." The voice of one crying out in the wilderness, "Prepare the way of the Lord. Make his paths straight." John the Baptizer appeared in the wilderness proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him and were baptized by him in the river Jordan confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel's hair with a leather belt around his waist and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, "The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me. I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit."

I know that some people think that teachers have it easy but they don't know Carol. She is a junior high English teacher, assistant coach for young women in track, and directs a student play every year. With her spouse she goes to every baseball or basketball game in which her own two kids play. She coaches her younger daughter in an Odyssey of the Mind team. She has just been elected to the governing board of her church and carries special responsibility for local mission projects. Carol's standards for herself are high all year round, but she outdoes herself in December. She finds just the right gifts and wraps them beautifully for everyone on her long list. She and her husband always decorate their house imaginatively finding some new, clever, and not-too-expensive way to make their house a stand-out. They fill the kitchen with the scent of rich cookies baking every weekend from the middle of November to the end of December and their New Year's Day brunch is legendary. Carol is accomplished, generous, and thoughtful, but her life, especially in December, has become an endurance contest. It's as if she has decided that she has to prove to some unidentified someone, maybe herself, just how hard she can work. "See what it takes to exhaust me," she seems to say to the universe. Looking at her life from the outside, we might marvel that it took so long for her to wear herself out. Yet Carol only knows that living through each day has become a heavy burden. What she needs is a new way to live, but she cannot imagine how to get it. She knows that it's time to get her heart ready for Christmas. She just doesn't know how to do that anymore.

Carol is looking for some good news.

The Gospel of Mark tells us that the Good News begins with John who was preaching in the wilderness proclaiming, Mark tells us, "a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins." Carol needs to hear his message, needs to repent, needs to be forgiven. Oh, do not mistake me! She has not done anything that would make the top 100 list of sins. She has no skeletons hidden in her closet and nothing in her life that they couldn't print in the local newspaper. The closest thing to a sin as most of us would define sin is a mild grouchiness that never quite goes away. Nevertheless, the grouchiness is a symptom of the black hole in her heart where once upon a time joy lived.

Advent begins with an invitation to repent and be forgiven. Whether or not it is a welcome message, it is surely one we need to hear. So often the Christmas season is about how powerful we are, what we can do, how much we can afford, what we can give. The focus is on us and what we can do to make everything right, right now. It's as futile as trying to plant a garden in Minnesota in December. Someone watching us might say, "Dig away if you must, but you will not get very deep. And the seeds you plant are very unlikely to grow."

For Carol and for all of us who try to keep up with her, the Good News is that we do not earn our forgiveness or merit the gift of Christmas. Repentance is not just a simple matter of acknowledging a problem or two and continuing just as we did before. Repentance is more radical than that, for it means turning around from the old and moving in a new direction. It means letting go of the burdens of the present and waiting to receive the gift of new life.

Martin remembers, he says, a time when the world was a better place. In those days young people were respectful of their elders and workers put in an honest day's labor for an honest day's pay. In those days, he says, you could count on the president to behave like a president and you didn't see filth on television. Martin looks at what is and sees nothing that he wants. For him, this season of the year is a reminder of all the things that have changed and will be no more. He looks back to the years when his wife was alive and his children were all at home, when the world, at least as he remembers it, was simpler. When he was the pharmacist, he knew everyone who came in the door of his store. He paid attention to what prescriptions and other medications people were buying. Now when he goes into the drugstore, hardly anyone remembers his name. Then, he knew who he was and what his role was and where he belonged. Now he feels like a nobody. It seems that it doesn't really matter to anyone what he does, where he is, or who he is. He wishes he could return to the way it used to be.

Martin could use some good news.

The Gospel of Mark tells us that the Good News begins with John the Baptizer who was preaching in the wilderness proclaiming, Mark tells us, "a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins." Martin, too, needs to hear his message, needs to repent, and needs to be forgiven. Not because he carries the burden of serious misdeeds. There are no embarrassing revelations that might surface from his past. The closest thing to a sin as most of us would define sin is a discontent with the way things are. The discontent is a symptom of his conviction that nothing really matters anymore. He knows it's time to get ready for Christmas, yet he cannot imagine what that would mean.

Advent begins with an invitation to repent and be forgiven. Whether or not it is a welcome message, it is surely one we need to hear. So often the Christmas season is about what used to be, what we used to do, who used to be with us. The focus is on us and what we want and our grief that we cannot have it anymore. It is as futile as trying to harvest last year's garden. Someone watching us might say, "Try if you must but you will not get much nourishment from those dried out and frozen stalks."

For Martin and for all of us who find meaning in what is past, the Good News is that we do not earn our forgiveness or merit the gift of Christmas. Repentance is not just a simple matter of acknowledging one or two sins and then staying right where we have always been. Repentance is more radical than that for it means turning around from the old and moving in a new direction. It means letting go of the old ways of finding meaning and waiting to discover the new.

It doesn't take much insight to look at Sam and know that he could benefit from hearing John's exhortation to repent and receive forgiveness. Sam has a pretty good job and a decent place to live, but his life is a mess of broken commitments and forgotten obligations and misplaced loyalties. He hasn't talked to his children since last Christmas. His latest live-in has just moved out and he cannot remember the last time he had an actual conversation with anyone. Although his list of sins and misdeeds is long and not very subtle, reciting the list of his sins is not what he really needs to do right now. That may come later, but now as he watches almost wistfully while others prepare for Christmas, what he needs is not so very different from what Carol and Martin need. He needs the same gift of Christmas that they need, the ability to turn his life around, follow a new path, and discover or receive a new way to go.

Sam needs some good news.

Mark tells us that the Good News begins with John preaching in the wilderness proclaiming, Mark tells us, "a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins." Sam, too, needs to hear that message. It's partly because he carries the burden of serious misdeeds. Those sins are the symptoms of his conviction that nobody but himself really matters, and he's not even sure about himself anymore. He knows that other people know it's time to get ready for Christmas. He just can't imagine what that would mean.

Advent begins with an invitation to repent and be forgiven. So often the Christmas season looks like an excess of tinsel and an excuse for a party. The future seems as empty as the past. The focus is on us and what we want and our fury that we cannot have everything we want. It's as foolhardy as expecting a garden where none has been planted. Someone watching us might say, "Look all you want, but you'll not get much growth from what might have been."

It's as that we do not earn our forgiveness nor do we merit the gift of Christmas. God's grace is enough for us. Repentance isn't just a simple matter of acknowledging one or two sins and then moving on just as we did before. Repentance is more radical than that. For it means turning around from the old and moving in a new direction. It means letting go of the old ways of evading meaning and waiting to discover the new.

When you hear what the message of John the Baptizer was, you may wonder what it was that made people want to go hear him. But then as now, we are hungry for someone who will tell us the truth about ourselves and offer us hope. We yearn for a place where no pretense is required or even permitted and where no condemnation is experienced. Repentance and forgiveness come together. That is gift indeed.

But there is more to it than that. For John knows and he can make you believe that something big is about to happen. The world is about to change. Christ is on the way.

So, welcome! Welcome into the wilderness, you who yearn to recapture the past. Welcome, you who live only for the future. Welcome, you who carry the burden of the present moment. It is time to get ready.

The wilderness is a strange place to be on the first Sunday in December. Not a hint of angels singing, no shepherds scratching their heads as they stare up into the night sky, not even a fleeting glimpse of Mary's blue robe. Though it may seem unlikely, it is here that we first received the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, in the words of an uncompromising prophet.

One is coming, John tells us, who is powerful, who will bring the baptism of the Holy Spirit. What that means is mysterious and will not be reduced to a simple formula. Still, with John, and with Carol and Martin and Sam, we wait for the coming one. We do not quite see him yet, not even in the flurry of millennial consciousness. We know that he is coming and so we lean into the future, waiting to see the fulfillment of the promise that we trust is coming. Whether we are burdened by the present, caught up in the past, or afraid to trust the future, it is still true--it is time to get ready.