We can almost touch the frustration that John feels at the beginning of this passage. ‘Are you the one who is to come’? John asks of Jesus. He is confused – who is this person? where does he fit? Does he have anything to say to John?
They are questions that we all struggle with. Even today, we ask the same questions of Christ. Who is this? Where is he coming from? Does he have anything to say to me?
We expect answers – as John did. We expect an answer to our question – are you the one who is to come?
And yet, as with John, the answer to the question remains obscure. Christ remains the totally enigmatic face on the wall, the cross, the bread and wine. Silent signs, as silent as he was before Pilate, consistently refusing a straight and simple answer. We can't feed him questions like a computer and receive tidy, systematic replies. He won't let on: we can shout and wave our arms at that icon, and it stays the same, a dark expressionless face that gives us nothing but itself to think about. We can shout and wave our arms at each other, appealing to Christ, and when we turn to him, all we meet is silence, a kind of annihilating judgment on all we say. Christ can bear all sorts of interpretations, and we can't expect him to tell us which he likes.
But interpret him we must. We're constructive, imaginative beings, after all, and we can't escape from language, so we must talk.
One thing interpretations and visions of Christ have to do with is reconciliation – our reconciliation with ourselves and each other and God.
Perhaps this is what John was looking for as he sat in prison – a way of finding reconciliation within himself, and reconciliation with God. Reconciliation often happens at key points in our lives. Dame Cicely Saunders, who founded the hospice movement, writes that reconciliation of our inner selves and reconciliation before God are often key at the end of a life. And yet, it doesn’t have to wait until then. The main task in any life is to find integration – the bringing together of what is scattered and diverse and forming a whole. Perhaps this was what John was seeking as he sat in prison – a means of making sense of his life, of regaining his identity, and reassuring himself that his life had made sense and been of value.
Perhaps it is something we all seek as we ask questions of this enigmatic figure in front of us. Seeking ways of reconciling our inner nature; reconciling ourselves to God.
Seeking reconciliation though from someone who provoked so much conflict in his life sounds paradoxical.
Time and again Jesus’ presence evoked conflict and contradiction. Even in his healing ministry there were voices of dissent; he was thrown out of the synagogue in Nazareth; crowds tried to stone him. Yet he never abandoned the precarious frontier where all dualities meet. He inhabited the nerve line of paradox and contradiction. We forget that Jesus knows contradiction, paradox and pathos from within. Both human and divine he lived an existence of two worlds – a divided, and yet completely whole existence.
Despite the tension of the frontier he inhabited, he always kept his dignity, balance and poise. This must have been the fruit of the thirty years of solitary interior work before he emerged in his public mission.
Whilst being a voice of conflict, Christ also occupied a frontier that was of greatest possibility and renewal. I imagine this is true in our own lives too. Those around us who occupy positions in areas of conflict and contradiction are often those to whom we turn in order to have some insight into reconciliation.
Think of Nelson Mandela – a man who was at the heart of enormous conflict in his country, and yet who now occupies a prophetic role in terms of reconciliation.
Or Gordon Wilson, the man who after the IRA bombing at Enniskillen publicly forgave the bombers, saying that "I bear no ill-will, no grudge".
Or Julie Nicholson, the parish priest who stepped down after she struggled to forgive those who had killed her daughter in the 7/7 bombings in London.
From my own conversations with other people, I know how much her own struggle has spoken to others also battling with reconciliation.
Perhaps the secret to this gift of reconciliation lies in the fact that unless we explore the silent and hidden places of our own hearts first, we are hardly in a position to find much of an echo in the hearts of others. The interface between the inner and outer worlds is almost like a two way mirror. To maintain a solid connection with the poor, the marginalised, the outcasts around us, we need to be always in touch with those within our own lives, We must always be trying to find and verify our own authentic voice while we fulfill the role of being a voice for those who cannot, or will not, speak out their own truth.
In a wonderful book called Near occasions of grace, the author says that he feels that the outer poverty, injustice and absurdity we see when we look around us mirrors our own inner poverty, injustice, absurdity. The poor man or women outside is an invitation to the poor man or woman inside. As we learn compassion and sympathy for the brokenness of things ; When we encounter the visible icon of the painful mystery In 'the little ones' ; then, if we have built bridges between the inner and outer, if we have learned to move between action and contemplation, then we'll learn compassion and sympathy for the 'little one', the broken one within ourselves. We' ll realise that you are a poor person too. (Rohr, Richard, Near occasions of grace, Orbis, 1993 p 108, I09) cited p 82.
John may have seen this gift in Christ – the ability to stand in the middle of contradiction, and yet to offer reconciliation to others. Although Christ’s reply is evasive, he does respond with a reference to the Isaiah passage that we had read today:
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.
There is an inner harmony here – a reconciling of people within themselves.
Did Christ see an inner disharmony in John that made him respond in this way? Or was the response intended for a wider audience? We shall probably never know this side of heaven.
We do know that Christ offers to bring a wholeness that cannot be found anywhere else.
Rowan Williams quotes a poem :
You shall know him when he comes
Not by any din of drums
Not by anything he wears,
Not by the vantage of his airs ;
Not by his gown,
Nor by his crown,
But his coming known shall be
By the holy harmony
That his presence makes in thee.
Advent calls us to be reconciled to each other; reconciled to ourselves. But the only way we can reach this true reconciliation is through turning to Christ, and continually saying along with John the Baptist ‘who are you? ; are you the one who is to come? ; can you speak to me ? do you have a word of healing or wholeness for me?’
It is a reconciliation that has high rewards – because it gives us a freedom that anticipates the striving for the coming of the kingdom.
So this advent we look ahead for a coming Christ who will offer reconciliation and peace in the transforming message of the incarnation.
Amen
We can almost touch the frustration that John feels at the beginning of this passage. ‘Are you the one who is to come’? John asks of Jesus. He is confused – who is this person? where does he fit? Does he have anything to say to John?
They are questions that we all struggle with. Even today, we ask the same questions of Christ. Who is this? Where is he coming from? Does he have anything to say to me?
We expect answers – as John did. We expect an answer to our question – are you the one who is to come?
And yet, as with John, the answer to the question remains obscure. Christ remains the totally enigmatic face on the wall, the cross, the bread and wine. Silent signs, as silent as he was before Pilate, consistently refusing a straight and simple answer. We can't feed him questions like a computer and receive tidy, systematic replies. He won't let on: we can shout and wave our arms at that icon, and it stays the same, a dark expressionless face that gives us nothing but itself to think about. We can shout and wave our arms at each other, appealing to Christ, and when we turn to him, all we meet is silence, a kind of annihilating judgment on all we say. Christ can bear all sorts of interpretations, and we can't expect him to tell us which he likes.
But interpret him we must. We're constructive, imaginative beings, after all, and we can't escape from language, so we must talk.
One thing interpretations and visions of Christ have to do with is reconciliation – our reconciliation with ourselves and each other and God.
Perhaps this is what John was looking for as he sat in prison – a way of finding reconciliation within himself, and reconciliation with God. Reconciliation often happens at key points in our lives. Dame Cicely Saunders, who founded the hospice movement, writes that reconciliation of our inner selves and reconciliation before God are often key at the end of a life. And yet, it doesn’t have to wait until then. The main task in any life is to find integration – the bringing together of what is scattered and diverse and forming a whole. Perhaps this was what John was seeking as he sat in prison – a means of making sense of his life, of regaining his identity, and reassuring himself that his life had made sense and been of value.
Perhaps it is something we all seek as we ask questions of this enigmatic figure in front of us. Seeking ways of reconciling our inner nature; reconciling ourselves to God.
Seeking reconciliation though from someone who provoked so much conflict in his life sounds paradoxical.
Time and again Jesus’ presence evoked conflict and contradiction. Even in his healing ministry there were voices of dissent; he was thrown out of the synagogue in Nazareth; crowds tried to stone him. Yet he never abandoned the precarious frontier where all dualities meet. He inhabited the nerve line of paradox and contradiction. We forget that Jesus knows contradiction, paradox and pathos from within. Both human and divine he lived an existence of two worlds – a divided, and yet completely whole existence.
Despite the tension of the frontier he inhabited, he always kept his dignity, balance and poise. This must have been the fruit of the thirty years of solitary interior work before he emerged in his public mission.
Whilst being a voice of conflict, Christ also occupied a frontier that was of greatest possibility and renewal. I imagine this is true in our own lives too. Those around us who occupy positions in areas of conflict and contradiction are often those to whom we turn in order to have some insight into reconciliation.
Think of Nelson Mandela – a man who was at the heart of enormous conflict in his country, and yet who now occupies a prophetic role in terms of reconciliation.
Or Gordon Wilson, the man who after the IRA bombing at Enniskillen publicly forgave the bombers, saying that "I bear no ill-will, no grudge".
Or Julie Nicholson, the parish priest who stepped down after she struggled to forgive those who had killed her daughter in the 7/7 bombings in London.
From my own conversations with other people, I know how much her own struggle has spoken to others also battling with reconciliation.
Perhaps the secret to this gift of reconciliation lies in the fact that unless we explore the silent and hidden places of our own hearts first, we are hardly in a position to find much of an echo in the hearts of others. The interface between the inner and outer worlds is almost like a two way mirror. To maintain a solid connection with the poor, the marginalised, the outcasts around us, we need to be always in touch with those within our own lives, We must always be trying to find and verify our own authentic voice while we fulfill the role of being a voice for those who cannot, or will not, speak out their own truth.
In a wonderful book called Near occasions of grace, the author says that he feels that the outer poverty, injustice and absurdity we see when we look around us mirrors our own inner poverty, injustice, absurdity. The poor man or women outside is an invitation to the poor man or woman inside. As we learn compassion and sympathy for the brokenness of things ; When we encounter the visible icon of the painful mystery In 'the little ones' ; then, if we have built bridges between the inner and outer, if we have learned to move between action and contemplation, then we'll learn compassion and sympathy for the 'little one', the broken one within ourselves. We' ll realise that you are a poor person too. (Rohr, Richard, Near occasions of grace, Orbis, 1993 p 108, I09) cited p 82.
John may have seen this gift in Christ – the ability to stand in the middle of contradiction, and yet to offer reconciliation to others. Although Christ’s reply is evasive, he does respond with a reference to the Isaiah passage that we had read today:
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.
There is an inner harmony here – a reconciling of people within themselves.
Did Christ see an inner disharmony in John that made him respond in this way? Or was the response intended for a wider audience? We shall probably never know this side of heaven.
We do know that Christ offers to bring a wholeness that cannot be found anywhere else.
Rowan Williams quotes a poem :
You shall know him when he comes
Not by any din of drums
Not by anything he wears,
Not by the vantage of his airs ;
Not by his gown,
Nor by his crown,
But his coming known shall be
By the holy harmony
That his presence makes in thee.
Advent calls us to be reconciled to each other; reconciled to ourselves. But the only way we can reach this true reconciliation is through turning to Christ, and continually saying along with John the Baptist ‘who are you? ; are you the one who is to come? ; can you speak to me ? do you have a word of healing or wholeness for me?’
It is a reconciliation that has high rewards – because it gives us a freedom that anticipates the striving for the coming of the kingdom.
So this advent we look ahead for a coming Christ who will offer reconciliation and peace in the transforming message of the incarnation.
Amen
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