Fruitcake - draft sermon 12/09

Grace and peace to you from God our creator, and from God’s Son Jesus Christ, whose coming ushers in a new creation.

John the Baptist is a fruitcake! I mean—come on! Look at the way he dresses—hair shirt, leather belt—sounds like Fred Flintstone. Look at where he lives—out in the wilderness, by himself! And his diet—I’m not even going there. Okay, the honey sounds good. But not as dipping sauce for bugs! Ewww! John the Baptist is a fruitcake!

And not only for his lifestyle—have you ever really listened to what this guy is preaching? REPENT! Repent! He’s like the guy on the street corner, you know the one I mean—the one wearing a sandwich board sign that says “The end of the world is near—REPENT!” And that’s just the appetizer for John. The main course he directs towards the religious elite, the Pharisees and Sadducees—pious people of some social standing —the upper crust. He says to them, “You slithering snakes! Who warned you to flee the wrath that is to come?” Not exactly what you’d say to win friends and influence people! John the Baptist is a fruitcake. He’s out there.

Take this baptizing thing—getting people out into the Jordan River and dunking them, holding them under water long enough that when they break the surface coughing and sputtering, they know what death by drowning feels like.

[Reminds me of an old joke: Preacher is baptizing down to the river. And he dunks this fella once and when he comes up gasping preacher asks him, “Do you believe?” And the man answers, “Yes, I believe!” So preacher dunks him again. And pulling him up asks, “Do you believe?” “Yes, I believe!” comes the answer. So under the water he sends him a third time. And as the man comes up he asks him a third time, “Do you believe?” “Yes, I believe.” “And what do you believe?” asks the preacher. “I believe you’re trying to drown me!”]

That baptism thing was weird. Again—John is a fruitcake. And to top it off there’s the cryptic messages he gives the people. One who is more powerful than I is coming and he will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire—fire to burn the chaff left over from a great harvest that he will initiate. …Huh? What? Who’d want to be baptized with fire? And why not just tell us about this guy who’s coming—instead of using all that prophetic jargon and mumbo-jumbo? But getting an answer from him is like talking to a broken record. Repent! Repent! Repent! Talk about your one track minds! John the Baptist is really a fruitcake.

Oh, I know what you’re thinking. “Pastor, it’s disrespectful to say that about someone. You should say, ‘John has a mental illness.’ You can’t use words like crazy, or loony, or nuts anymore. And not fruitcake, either.” To which I will have to answer, “Pishaw!” Not because I’m insensitive to people suffering from mental illness. But because when I say John the Baptist is a fruitcake, I mean to draw a comparison between the two. John the Baptizer is like a fruitcake. It’s an analogy. I even have my thesis down to a algebraic formula: John the Baptist is to Advent as fruitcake is to Christmas presents.

Now, I know what you’re thinking again. “Pastor, you’re a fruitcake! How does saying that help me interpret this difficult bible passage for today?” To which I’d say—first, you shouldn’t call someone a fruitcake, and second - you don’t really know your fruitcake, do you? Let me give you a little fruitcake primer…

First of all a little fruitcake fun facts. The name “fruitcake” comes from the Latin fructus, or sugar. In days gone by a fruitcake used to be made at the end of each harvest, but not eaten until the beginning of the next harvest—the density of the cake and the amount of sugar rendering it extremely preservable. The earliest mention of fruitcakes were as a part of the Roman army’s rations. So, John the Baptist might well have eaten fruitcake, if it hadn’t been for the bug thing. In colonial times, wedding guests often slept with a slice of fruitcake under their pillows, ostensibly to induce a dream of the one they world marry. A Victorian tea in the 1800s would not have been complete without a fruitcake. And Queen Victoria herself is said to have received one as a birthday present once and not eaten it for a year—to show her restraint, moderation, and discipline.

Or maybe it was because nobody really eats fruitcake! Something about it is somewhat distasteful. Maybe it’s the thick as a brick density of the cake, or the little bits of unidentifiable green fruit lodged in it, or the fact that many fruitcakes are made with enough liquor in them to get you a DUI on the way home from the Christmas party. If you were to eat it. Which you probably won’t.

So, fruitcake as a Christmas present is awkward. On the one hand, you appreciate the sentiment and the exotic nature of the cake. On the other, you can’t quite bring yourself to actually eating it. So, it’s either “re-gift” it along with that fondue set from Aunt Mabel. Sure to make you popular. Or, you could use it for your gift in a Yankee Swap. But chances are you’ll end up either with the cake or a black eye.

You might put it away in a cupboard and wait for it to go bad, so you can take it down and say, “Tut, tut! I was just about to enjoy this lovely fruitcake you gave me Cousin Delmar, but—darn! It’s moldy.” Unfortunately that idea won’t work because a fruitcake has incredible staying power—I believe they found pieces of fruitcake in with Tutankhamen. Still good. So, you’re stuck with it. It’s there, next to the spaghetti, right in your face, reminding you of its offbeat quirkiness.

Now—John the Baptist is to Advent, as fruitcake is to Christmas presents. Let’s analyze that statement…

John was not your run of the mill guy—fruitcake is not your run of the mill present (underwear is).

You never expect to get fruitcake, but somehow you always do. John the Baptist is unexpected—the authorities are caught by surprise by his harsh words. Which remind them of the prophets’—the tone is the same.

Believe it or not, some people actually like fruitcake. Others can’t stand it. John did have a following—presumably a large one. But even larger was the group who thought him deranged, a pest, and a danger to the government. That group included powerful people such as the Pharisee and Sadducees, the temple authorities, and King Herod. The message John brings along with the good news (repent!) is often unpalatable to those who actually believe they are doing nothing wrong. That includes us!

Fruitcake is unmistakable. You can always tell when a package contains it (it’s either that or a railroad tie). John’s message is unmistakable—repent. Turn aside from sin, face the Lord God who is merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love. John’s call is the same, morning, noon, and night, 24/7, 365 a year. Unmistakably John.

Fruitcake is also mysterious. What makes it so heavy? And how does it keep preserved for.. forever it seems? John is likewise a puzzlement. He talks about the one who is to come being greater than he—even though he came first. That’s vague in and of itself. We think we know what he’s getting at. John must decrease as Jesus increases—Jesus is the “One.”

But John speaks not only to us, keeping us aware of the coming kingdom, he also speaks for us—John is a typology for us. He represents us. We are unworthy to even carry Jesus sandals. We are to make way for the one coming who is greater than we are. We baptize with water, he adds the Holy Spirit.

And finally, in the grand scheme of things, fruitcake is a quick-y gift that merely hints at the splendor that is to come. It’s not at the top of anyone’s Christmas list, and it isn’t a gift you would pick out as your favorite. It does it’s job and then goes in the cabinet until next year—making room for the “real” gifts. In the same way, John appears in our lectionary twice during Advent, preparing the way unobtrusively, then fades into the background as the day of incarnation arrives. He makes a few more appearances during the year, but for the most part, his job is done and, like a Christmas fruitcake, he is set aside.

So, if perchance you are the recipient of a beautiful big block of fruitcake this holiday season, perhaps instead of stowing it behind the canned soup in the pantry, or passing it on to your Gramma Jones—you’ll open it up and share some with friends. And as you do maybe you could remember old John the Baptist, locusts and all, and then heed his cry (repent!) and turn away from self indulgence to greet the selfless One who is to come. Maybe you might even tell someone else about this Jesus who comes at Christmas.

And hey! You know what? If you do—you’ll be a fruitcake too! Amen