Rev Harry Newton preaches on John the Baptist and the meaning of Advent
A Sunday sermon from Sumner Redcliffs Anglican Church on Matthew 3:1–12, delivered on 7 December 2025.
Summary
Rev Harry Newton delivers the second-Sunday-of-Advent sermon at Sumner Redcliffs Church, working through Matthew 3:1–12 and the figure of John the Baptist. He argues that Matthew's description of John — camel-hair clothing and a leather belt — is a deliberate literary signal connecting John to the ancient prophet Elijah, and that a first-century Jewish audience would have immediately understood this as a sign that the long-awaited Messiah had arrived. Newton's central theological claim is that repentance is not grim obligation but a joyful response to grace: that every person is loved and accepted before God not through virtue, heritage, or correct doctrine, but through unmerited divine favour alone. He closes by arguing that Advent is fundamentally about inward preparation — clearing space in the heart to receive Jesus afresh — rather than outward festivity.
Key Takeaways
FULL TRANSCRIPT
Welcome and the Revised Common Lectionary
Rev Harry Newton: Who knows the song "Ode to Joy"? Yeah — theme song to Die Hard, for those of us who are cultured. There is a new version that has come out, and it is: Die Hard is a Christmas movie, of this there can be no doubt, to the tune of "Ode to Joy." That's my new favourite Christmas song.
So, as I said before, my name's Harry, welcome to church. We are in the midst of something that the church calls Advent. Advent actually comes from a Latin word, Adventus, and it means the arrival of, or the coming of. So it's essentially a season in the church calendar where we prepare for the arrival of Jesus — both in a past sense, as we look to Christmas and the nativity scene and all that, but also in a future sense, as we look forward to Jesus coming again. Which kind of explains this really weird choice of reading this morning.
For those who don't know, the worldwide church — not just the Anglicans, but the Catholics and the Presbyterians and all these different groups — they have what's called the Revised Common Lectionary. It's a book that sets out all the readings three years in advance, three sets of readings every day plus daily Eucharistic readings. If you read it, you would read your way through the Bible in a year. The idea is to force preachers beyond their personal preferences all the time.
Every year they set their readings before Christmas, and every year they choose these really weird readings. You'd think they'd choose something about shepherds with their flocks in the fields by night, or angels singing as a heavenly choir, or wise men bringing inappropriate baby gifts. My daughter asked me last night why they brought myrrh. She said, isn't that inappropriate to give to a baby, because you're telling the baby they're going to die? Well done. I told her to ask her mum, because Amy has to run RE. I said, just make it your mum's problem, not mine.
Anyway, the point is that instead of all those readings, we have this story about what sounds like a hippie living in the desert, calling people to repentance and calling people a brood of vipers. Cheerful, right?
Matthew's Gospel and the Elijah Connection
Rev Harry Newton: So what's going on here? First of all, we need to remember there are four official accounts of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus — written by Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. This is from Matthew, otherwise known as Levi. Now Matthew is a Jew writing for Jews. His story is full of symbolism and implied meaning, and he assumes that you and I know it. He doesn't bother to explain things. He assumes that when he refers to something in oblique terms, you instantly understand what he's referring to. But you don't, do you? Not probably. I don't. I'm a bit thick.
So, for example, we have John the Baptist — this epic, religious, hippie-sounding bloke who features in our story. Matthew tells us that John wore clothing made of camel's hair with a leather belt around his waist, and that his food was locusts and wild honey. Now you might read that and think he's just a tad alternative. He lives in Sumner, he's okay. But Matthew is actually drawing a direct link to an ancient Jewish prophet called Elijah.
About 850 years before this happened, there was a Jewish king named Ahaziah. Anyone heard of Ahaziah? Don't worry if not. He was the son of a man called Ahab, who was a bit of a twit. Ahab dies, Ahaziah becomes king, and literally within the first five minutes faces a popular rebellion from a group called the Moabites, who were a vassal state under the authority of Israel at the time. And around that time, as the rebellion starts, Ahaziah has an accident. We're told that he fell through the lattice in his upper chamber in Syria — whatever that means — and he lay on the ground desperately injured, unable to move. He was desperate to be healed so he could march out, suppress the rebellion, show his authority as king, and overcome the Moabites.
So he sends messengers to find a priest to ask whether he will recover from his injury. But plot twist — rather than send them to find a Jewish priest, he sends them to find a priest for the pagan god Baal Zebub.
Now, for those who don't know, if you go to northern Africa, to Tunisia, to this day there is a field just outside of Tunis — a soft, gentle valley with very wealthy houses around the top of it. In the valley, it's all grass and full of little obelisks about this high. On each of the four sides of each obelisk are little symbols telling you whether it was a boy or a girl. These were human sacrifices offered to Baal Zebub.
Now, people sometimes say Baal was worshipped across northern Africa and the Middle East, and that's true, but it's more nuanced than that. Paganism is a spirituality that doesn't necessarily have a set doctrinal belief in the way Christianity or Islam does. So Baal became a kind of catch-cry name for this pagan god, but every area had its own slight reiteration of it. One thing they held in common across all regions was human sacrifice, particularly of children — which is why we're told in the Old Testament that God hates and abhors Baal. Because the Israelites at one point had worshipped Baal, had fallen away from worshipping Yahweh, and had started doing human sacrifices.
So instead of sending his messengers to find a Jewish priest, Ahaziah sends them to find a Baal priest to ask whether he will recover. They're on their way, and they're confronted by a man who pops out of nowhere. He doesn't introduce himself. He just stands up in the middle of their journey, approaches them, and says:
Elijah (quoted): "Is it because there is no God in Israel that you are going to inquire of Baal Zebub, the God of Ekron? This is the message you shall take to your king: therefore you shall surely die."
And then they turn around and go back to the king and pass on the message — which is brave. I don't know about you, but I probably wouldn't tell the king that. I would probably just carry on my way, come back, and forget about the crazy man on the street. But Ahaziah says to them, "What sort of man was he?" And they respond, "A hairy man with a leather belt around his waist." To which the king replies, "It is Elijah." And then he dies.
Now remember what Matthew wrote in our reading this morning: his clothing was camel's hair and a leather belt around his waist. There's a direct link in the text.
The Messianic Expectation and Why Crowds Followed John
Rev Harry Newton: There's also something else going on behind the scenes. There was an expectation in first-century Judaism that God was going to send a Messiah — a saviour — to rescue his people from oppression. Remember, the Jewish people at this point are under the oppressive rule of the Romans. They'd been under the Roman Empire for a while. Briefly before that they had ruled themselves under the Maccabees, who, depending on what accounts you read, were either ragingly awesome and heroic — the stuff you make epic movies of — or complete ratbags. It sounds like they were a bit of both. Prior to that, they had been under the thumb of oppressive regimes — Persian, Babylonian, or Egyptian — for centuries.
So they were hoping that God was going to send a Messiah to rescue his people. But before this Messiah could arrive, they had this belief stemming from a prophecy made by a man called Malachi: that the great ancient prophet Elijah needed to come again. Either Elijah would be reincarnated and come back as he was, or someone would come in the spirit of Elijah, the essence of Elijah.
This is important because here appears John the Baptist — dressed like Elijah, rebuking the leadership of Israel just like Elijah, calling people to reorientate themselves to God's will just like Elijah. And I'm sure the astute amongst you have figured out that John is just like Elijah.
When Matthew describes John as Elijah, he's trying to convey two things without having to flesh them out. He's saying: this is a time like that time — people are forgetting God, just like Ahaziah did, and there's a need for repentance. And second: this is the time Israel has been waiting for. God's Messiah is finally at hand. Hence Matthew's summary of John's preaching. He gives us a really short summary — I'm sure John said many things — but all he tells us is: repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. In other words, turn back to God because the long-awaited Messiah, God's Saviour, is here.
Now, when the people saw John with his camel-hair clothing and leather belt, eating locusts like a man of the desert, they would have picked up on the symbolism. He's calling people to repentance, and they probably hoped that maybe this really was the new Elijah, and that God's Messiah was just around the corner. And that explains why they flocked to him.
Can you imagine if a bloke appeared on Sumner Beach this afternoon and started yelling at people, "You are a brood of vipers, repent or burn in hell"? Some people might walk up and listen. Most people would make a wide berth and then call the CAT team. You would, right? You'd be concerned this person might be having a mental health crisis or something. But they didn't do that with John. They made a beeline for him. Why? Because as word began to spread, they realised this might be the new Elijah. Which is why Matthew tells us the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, and they were baptised by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.
Incidentally, we think it was in the exact same spot where the Israelites first entered the promised land many, many years before that. So it's all full of symbolism — all this epic implied meaning — because they would have known those stories. We don't hear it, do we? It's just there.
And why did they do this? Because they realised who John was, and they wanted to repent. They wanted to turn their hearts back to God in preparation for the arrival of his Messiah.
Mildly interesting, isn't it? I think knowing the context of a Bible story is interesting. Regardless of your spiritual orientation — if you don't think this stuff is true or you struggle with it, that's absolutely fine, and I'm genuinely stoked you're here. And if you do think it's true and you love it, fantastic, even better. But here's the thing: regardless of your spiritual orientation, if you understand the context, it helps you understand the story. You see it through Matthew's audience's eyes, through the eyes of a first-century Jew steeped in religious knowledge. And when you do that, you can see a greater appreciation of what's going on. It's kind of cool.
The Call to Repentance — Then and Now
Rev Harry Newton: The story of John the Baptist is told on this Sunday — the second Sunday of Advent out of four — as we prepare ourselves for Christmas, to remind us what it is we're preparing for. The arrival of God in human form. That in Jesus, it's God who is coming among us, and it's God's reign that is at hand.
And as much as this is cause for joy at Christmas time — all the carols and the decorations and the reruns of Die Hard 1, 2, and 3 on Christmas Eve night, which is why I'm always tired on Christmas morning (it's a tradition my brother and I do every year — stretchy pants, all the good things) — as much as the arrival of Jesus is awesome, it's also a cause for repentance. That means a radical reorientation of the heart toward God.
Today is St. Nicholas' Day. Almost no one knew that. My wife is Swiss, and in Switzerland they put out shoes by the fireplace, and St. Nicholas comes overnight and leaves chocolates and fruit in your shoes — which, if you think about it, is disgusting, because what do kids do? They sweat, and they don't change their socks. But in our family we do it every year. The kids get their shoes in front of the fireplace, and they wake up to find St. Nicholas has come overnight and left some chocolates and fruit. Why? Because it's joyful. Joy is good at Christmas time. Who wants to be a Grinch? No one.
But we also need to hear the message of repentance at Christmas. The call of Elijah, the call of John, to reorientate the entirety of our lives toward God.
When John saw those religious leaders — those Pharisees and Sadducees — coming out to see what the fuss was about, he didn't exactly roll out the red carpet. What did he say? "You brood of vipers, who warned you to flee from the coming wrath?" What a great way to make friends. That's pretty strong language. It's confronting, it's strange, it's weird. John's not aiming to be polite. He's trying to wake people up spiritually — and that includes you and me.
We might squirm a bit at the talk of judgment. Most Kiwis don't like the idea of being judged. I don't like it. But deep down, we all know what John's getting at, because if we're honest, we know we all fall short — not just of our own standards, but of the standards of God. We all have moments when we feel a disconnect between who we are and who we know we are meant to be.
John's warning wasn't just for those Jewish leaders. His warning was for everyone tempted to think that they're on the right side of things — of God and all that — because of their background, their politics, their morality, their sexuality, or their good-person status. That's what John was getting at when he said, "Don't presume to say to yourselves, we have Abraham as our ancestor." What he was trying to get across is: don't rely on your heritage or your status. Don't think that being in the right camp — politically, socially, or philosophically — secures your standing before God.
Because if Christianity teaches us anything, it's that everyone is in need of God's unmerited favour — God's grace — and that anyone can receive it. We are loved, we are redeemed, and we are acceptable before God, forever, by grace alone. Not by your effort, not by your virtue, not by your religious pedigree or theological standpoints.
Grace, Repentance, and the Fruits of the Spirit
Rev Harry Newton: I remember at theological college, two people in the car park literally shouting at each other across the bonnet of an old Honda Civic, screaming that the other person was a heretic. You know what they were arguing about? The way one folds holy linens. I'm apparently a heretic because I was folding it the wrong way, according to one of them.
The point is that we will die on these hills because we mistake thinking that if we can just think, be, or do the right thing, we will be acceptable in God's eyes. But we are not made acceptable that way. We are acceptable, loved, and redeemed simply because of God's sheer unmerited favour and love poured out to us in Jesus Christ. And this means that even though we are more flawed and broken than we ever dare admit, we are also more loved and accepted than we could ever dare hope.
And when that sinks in — when grace ceases to be just a doctrine that we vaguely appreciate in our heads, but the penny finally drops and it sinks into our soul — it changes us. It transforms repentance from a grim obligation into a joyful response to the good news of Jesus.
Years ago, I was a curate at a church called St. Barnabas Fendalton. I once said, "Good morning everybody, my name's Harry, I'm the assistant curator here at St. Barnabas Fendalton." I got taken aside during the service and told by a woman, "It's Fendalton, darling." So there you go.
Anyway, we did many services during the week — about seven on a Sunday, a very busy parish — and during the week we used the old 1662 prayer book. So over here you'll see the red book, which is the 1980s prayer book. There was another one done in the 1800s, and another done in 1662. We used this original 1662 for a couple of the services, with all the ye olde English — "I'm not even worthy to be like a dog in your presence," all this kind of over-the-top language.
One day a man was walking out and said to me, "It's so depressing coming to church and hearing all this doom and gloom about how bad a person I am. I'm okay just the way I am." Now, at one level I got what he meant. The language was really depressing — I got depressed just reading it. But at the same time, he was missing the point. Grace turns repentance from grim obligation into a joyful response to the goodness of Jesus. And when the penny drops, that's what happens.
That's why John then said: bear fruit worthy of repentance. Because the outcome of experiencing God's grace is not smug self-righteousness. It's humility. It's a life that reflects that humility to others through love, patience, forgiveness, and generosity — what we call the fruits of the Spirit.
Advent as Inward Preparation
Rev Harry Newton: That is what this Advent season is really all about. Preparation. Not just outward busyness or traditions, but inward readiness — a clearing of space in the heart to not just remember that Jesus came once, long ago, but to receive him afresh through the power of the Holy Spirit, and then to be prepared for when he comes again.
And so John's words, spoken 2,000 years ago on the banks of a polluted, smelly, muddy river, are just as pertinent to you and me here today as they were back then. Repent. Reorientate your life towards Jesus. Say sorry, make amends, own your need for forgiveness, trusting in the goodness of God, and be prepared for his eventual return.
That's what today is all about. That's why they chose a really awkward reading.