December 11, 2016

Cate Thorn 

Third Sunday of Advent     Isaiah 35:1–10     Matthew 11:2-11

Hearing today’s gospel I’m wondering whether there might be some credibility to the claim that Jesus was Irish. Did you notice how Jesus seems to manage to avoid answering directly any of the questions asked of him? He responds either with a question or by redirecting the question so the onus of responsibility for the answer is put onto the one who’s asking. This could suggest that Jesus had no idea of what to say, but I’m guessing we’re not much in the habit of laying that on Jesus. Or it could suggest the often truth that the person asking a question already has within them the response they need, the answer they’re seeking.

Through his disciples John asks Jesus the question, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” A very Advent theme, especially given context of Isaiah both from our first reading but also as deployed by the gospel author, there is connection between past and future being made here. We look back to the prophetic promises from Isaiah, imagery of wilderness becoming place of flourishing, prophetic text of the future when such promise will be fulfilled. So, John is asking Jesus, are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another? And how is it that Jesus responds? Not with reassuring concrete certainty, no “Yes, you’ve got it! I’m the one, here to save the day, relax it’s all in hand.” Rather Jesus redirects the question away from himself, “Tell John what you hear and see:” the blind see, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have good news brought and blessing is on those who take no offense at Jesus. Jesus tells them to tell of what is happening. It may be these things taking place do, indeed, relate to Jesus, happen in response to him, but what that means, whether it points to Jesus as the one to come – that is left to John to interpret. Jesus’ response is direct and simple, no justifying arguments or fine rhetoric simply ‘look at the evidence, see and hear what’s taking place now,’ what is the meaning you apply to these things?

Advent – the season of looking back, remembering the promise and of looking forward, to the return of the promise – at least that’s the character of the season tradition delivers to us. So it’s interesting in today’s gospel to find Jesus pointing to transformation happening in the now. That which is to come is being revealed. It’s taking place now. Not a future date or a past event but a present happening. The past may tell us what to look for, but without experience in the now what would prompt us to tell of such promise as real into the future.

Might we hear in today’s gospel a challenge to us – what about now? When we’re asked the question, and maybe, being religiously inclined we’re asked this more often than we realise, “Is wholeness, restoration, healing, justice, life as blessing something that happens now, is it come or are we still to wait?” Are we able to redirect attention in response “see and hear what’s happening?” Or have we come to talk about the idea of restoration, justice, healing, wholeness, divine blessing rather a lot, deliberate at length on what these things mean and how they should be possible but somehow we never quite get there for all number of reasons. Somehow we’ve become a bit vague on the vision, is it even realistic or reasonable to expect that sort of thing now. They’re things we forever work toward with a little less expectation, a little less hope the harder things get. Then again are they later things or can we see and name how they’re present, can we see and hear in this way? Insist on telling the story of life, of the world as place of divine presence, take our part in seeing and hearing how these things are being made real, acting so to make them real. Transformation is happening now. If we don’t tell, share the story of the experience, the promise of divine presence past, present and future, when we respond “hear and see” what will it mean for those asking, will it have anything to do with divine presence?

John, named in today’s gospel as prophet in Jesus’ time, is link in these in between times. John, we’re told, dwelt in wilderness places, despite the discomfort of this, people came to him. Why was that? Jesus asks, what did people go to the wilderness to look at, to see? The wilderness is a frequented place in the narrative of faith, especially for disruptive prophetic characters. We could put it down to the setting from which the stories arose, yet I suspect it’s a more universal motif of the human experience. Wilderness spaces, times, experiences are woven into the fabric of our lives. We encounter the wildness of life there, the untamed, precarious, scantly resourced fragile reality of life. As we look about our world, our country, our city, our neighbourhood, we don’t need to look far to recognise the abundance of wilderness spaces surrounding us right now. We don’t need to look far to recognise they indwell us as well. In fact some days it’s hard not to feel overwhelmed by the wildness of things.

Despite our instinct for survival warning us against close encounter with such spaces we find them perversely attractive. When disaster strikes, a person’s crisis is unveiled, we’ve an almost voyeuristic fascination to look and the media sure helps, to see how bad it is – from safety of distance. Curious rubberneckers, we can’t help ourselves – we want to see and know what’s going on, bear witness from our safe observer position. In truth I suspect wilderness places and times attract and repel us in equal measure.

What is it, to borrow from the gospel text, what is it that we go to look at, what do we go to see? Times and places of wilderness reveal life in its honest rawness, give us chance to look at, to see, to encounter life’s magnificent beauty and precarious transience without having to experience it directly. Give us chance to witness the resilience, courage and enormous compassion of the human spirit, to recognise these are in us too. Wilderness places, times, experiences open us up, they break open the predictable, the usual, the normal, create gaps for light of new awareness to shine into our lives, give us chance to consider our lives, our priorities afresh. Make us aware of our humdrum existence, that there is alternative, or maybe remind us that humdrum is existence but not life – encountering our fragile mortality is salient reminder. Witnessing wilderness it’s almost as if something’s calling us, being called from us, a sense of sharp aliveness we’ve lost along the way, smothered over with ordinariness of life and we’re yearning for restoration. The relief of wilderness allows our preoccupied minds to settle. In the stark simplicity of such place we begin to remember the vividness of the present. Reminded now is the only time, the only moment in which to be and do, now is the only time to fulfil potential and enable transformation. Listen to the wisdom of the Sufi Rumi in his poem: What Jesus Runs Away From: found in. The Essential Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks, 204. [1]

“Teaching in a new way,” the poem ends, refusing to deny divine presence, refusing to participate in that which prevents God’s flourishing transformation. Jesus says, tell John what’s happening now, transformation and restoration is taking place now. In this moment new life is breaking in, is changing the way things are. Change tends to be disruptive, painful at times, yet resisting denies the divine acting through us in time, it deadens us. Change opens fissures and cracks in our certainty for the light of new knowing to spill in, if we fist close the gaps we deny revealing the divine life breaking in for the world to flourish through us. Are we the ones who will enact the restoration of wholeness to those and those parts of us disfigured, blinded, deafened, made unclean, deadened and made poor in/ by life, to make known the blessing of divine presence or are we and our world to wait for another for it to be known?

[1]Barks, Coleman trans. The Essential Rumi (New York: HarperOne 1995), 204.