NRS Matthew 11:1
Now when Jesus had finished instructing his twelve disciples, he went on from there to teach and proclaim his message in their cities. 2 When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples 3 and said to him, "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?" 4 Jesus answered them, "Go and tell John what you hear and see: 5 the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. 6 And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me."
7 As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: "What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? 8 What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. 9 What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. 10 This is the one about whom it is written,
'See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you,
who will prepare your way before you.'
11 Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.

If John the Baptist were a Bob Dylan fan, as I suspect he might be, he might choose as his theme song a little ditty the Bobster wrote for the movie "Wonder Boys." Titled "Things Have Changed," the chorus goes:
People are crazy and times are strange
I'm locked in tight, I'm out of range
I used to care, but things have changed
So true, and especially true for the John we find in today's Gospel.

Just last week, you know, John was out in the desert pitching hellfire and brimstone. He was decked out in his prophet's get-up and he was giving the Pharisees and Sadducees what for. He called them a brood of vipers, and he told them that if they were counting on the faith of their fathers and mothers to get them into the kingdom, then they had better think again. "God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham," said John, and if that didn't put the fear of the Lord in them, he added, "Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire" (Matthew 3: 9,10). Not a man afraid of mixing his metaphors, John then envisioned the coming Messiah as a grim reaper: "His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire," or in the Greek that sounds even scarier, with "puri. avsbe,stw|" (Matthew 3:12). That's called scorched-earth preaching, my friends, and if anybody could get away with that kind of message, it was John. He was, in his own right, invincible. He was a man without peer. He did not flinch. He did not back down. He meant what he said, and he said exactly what he meant.

But that was last week, and this week, well, things have changed. John is no longer dunking sinners in the River Jordan. He's not drawing crowds from Jerusalem and all Judea, and he's definitely off his diet of locusts and wild honey. Because he's -- where? That's right. He's in jail, the slammer, the hoosegow. He's hung up his camel's hair cloak and leather belt for a set of prison stripes, and instead of sleeping under the stars of the Judean wilderness, he has a room in the old Graybar Hotel, courtesy of one King Herod Antipas, the vicious son of his even more vicious father King Herod the (so-called) Great. Yes, I'd say, things have definitely changed.

Now I've never done any prison time, and I hope I never do, because I'm told it works on you. Sometimes I hear people say, "Well, three hots and a cot, how bad can it be?" I don't really want to find out, but assuming you have a working soul and a beating heart, I'm guessing it's bad, as in awful. The loss of your freedom is a terrible thing, and even the mighty, invincible John had to be at least a little shaken. Matthew doesn't tell us how long Herod had been holding John, but I suspect it was long enough for John to start wondering what in the world was going on. When Jesus came to John to be baptized, John knew right away that this was the Messiah. He told Jesus, "I need to be baptized by you" (Matthew 3: 14). But if Jesus is the Messiah, John certainly had to be asking himself, "Then what am I, the Messiah's prophet, doing in prison? Or even more to the point, what's that nasty little brute Herod doing walking around free as a bird?" Good questions, which probably explain the question John sent to Jesus by way of his disciples: "Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?"

It's really a very tender scene, isn't it? Through his intermediaries, John is laying his heart on the line. It takes a lot of courage to lay bare your soul and ask the one question so dear to you that you can hardly bear to ask it. What strength of character, what depth of faith, just to ask this one question, and with the asking face the possibility of truly devastating disappointment. But showing another side of his greatness, John does indeed ask: "Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?''

Notice that John doesn't explain what the one who is to come is supposed to do when he gets here. But from what we already know of John's preaching, we have a pretty good idea of his job description for the Messiah. Quite simply, the Messiah was coming, in John's vision, to clean house. John was expecting the Christ to come with his ax and winnowing fork and unquenchable fire to purge the earth clean of all injustice and unrighteousness. John expected pretty much what Mary sang of in her Magnificat: God's Chosen would scatter the proud in the imagination of their hearts; he would cast down the mighty from their thrones; he would feed the hungry with good things, but the rich he would send away empty. Except that in John's old blood and guts school of prophecy, I think there would probably be a whole lot more weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.

But don't you think it's interesting that Jesus does not answer John with a straightforward yes or no. Instead, he responds, "Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them" (Matthew 11: 4,5). I think that's Jesus' way of telling John, "I am indeed the Messiah, but not exactly the one you're expecting." Clearly, Jesus is not your ax-swinging, pitchfork-wielding, chaff-burning kind of Messiah. He has not come with heavenly hosts "to trample out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored." Neither has he "loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword." The only place this Messiah is marching to is Calvary. And the only weapon he bears is the cross.

John understood himself, in the words of the prophet Isaiah, as one preparing the way of the Lord and making straight his paths. But John must have scratched his head over what kind of Messiah he was preparing for, especially as he sat locked up, behind bars, waiting for the ax that would serve his head up on Herod's silver platter. Little did John know that he was clearing the exact path that Jesus himself would follow. Like John, Jesus would also end up in custody. Jesus would also suffer the injustice of cruel men. Jesus would also die a prisoner's death on the path of freeing all creation.

You know, there's a lot of nonsense floating around about end-time scenarios, all supposedly based on the Book of Revelation. You know what I'm talking about, the books, the movies, the wild forecasts of the Antichrist and the end of days. It has, you know, little, if anything, to do with the Bible, but I appreciate the fantasy. Sometimes I think how cool it would be if I were absolved of all responsibility and I could just leave it to God to clean up this mess of a world, including the messes I've made. I'd just fly away to a "home on God's celestial shore," where I could let the world burn and the heathen rage while I sing hallelujah by and by.

But that's not the Messiah whose paths John made straight, and it's not the Messiah born to us in a cattle stall so many centuries ago. Our Lord does not lead us out of the world, but into it. He does not fit us out with terrible swift swords, but equips us, instead, with the Word that cuts to the heart of all humankind. He does not harden us to the world's cruelties, but rather, he fills us with compassion and strengthens our hands for works of mercy. No fire and brimstone, no blood and guts, just a cross, and that's enough.

In the Name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.