“And he confessed, and denied not; but
confessed, I am not the Christ…He said, I am the voice of one crying in the
wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord.”
St. John 1:20,23
We are living in an age of powerful words. Over the last few months, women from every
corner of public life have found the courage to come forward to say: “I was
violated, demeaned, treated with cruelty.
Sexual abuse affected me too, and I will be silent no longer.” And it seems that every morning there is
another apology, another resignation of some powerful man.
In the last few years, people all across the
nation have spoken out about racial discrimination and brutal treatment of
African Americans. There have been bestselling
books, protests and counter protests, verdicts rendered. Old statues have fallen, flags have been
hauled down, and a few football players sit on the sidelines.
Words are, of course, the oxygen of
politics.
We await each morning the 140
characters that may alter “the course of human events,” and the analysis and
punditry that responds seems unending. Our
political system depends on the exchange of arguments, offered for persuasion
or in pursuit of consensus, for the brokering of compromises and the deployment
of consolation prizes.
So many words—on the grand stage of history and
in the give and take of our ordinary lives.
We hope that these words will be effective. We shame offenders and hope they will be
contrite. We denounce injustice and hope
that finally things will change. We hope
it is possible to arrive at the truth of things, that there can be debate that
reveals the common good. Maybe words can
reshape a sexual culture polluted by aggression, and maybe they can absolve our
nation’s original sin, and maybe there can be a future for a political system
that has long been a light for the rest of the world.
But sometimes, I fear that we’re just dealing in
words, and that words are not enough. I
read an article yesterday that cited a recent study that found that 24% of
young Americans have concluded that democracy is a bad or very bad system of
government, and 32% would welcome as our leader a political strongman “who
doesn’t have to bother with parliaments and elections.[1]” Those are not insignificant numbers. Many young Americans have lost confidence in
the reliability of the system. They
don’t think that words can deliver on their promises. Antiracism activists have frequently
expressed similar discouragement in recent months, and in time, I expect, those
leading the charge against sexual harassment will as well.
Maybe activists are always bound to be
disappointed in this world, but I wonder if they are not also pointing to a
more profound disenchantment with all the scolding and advocating and
negotiation, all those words that point out problems, but never seem to do much
to change the heart and create meaningful community. Maybe this is what T. S. Eliot was addressing
when he wrote in Burnt Norton,
Words
strain,
Crack and sometimes break, under the
burden,
Under the tension, slip, slide, perish,
Decay with imprecision, will not stay in
place,
Will not stay still.
John the Baptist was a man of words. The Gospels give us a few extracts from his
sermons, and they are fierce and compelling.
He spoke the truth to those in power, called the nation to a spiritual
revival. He was the first true prophet
God had sent in centuries and people could see it and responded with wonder,
all the world travelling out into the desert to hear his voice.
God had given John a message and he proclaimed
it boldly. He called God’s people to repentance
because the Redeemer was drawing near.
In today’s Gospel reading, He is very near indeed, this promised
Redeemer. These are the words of John
the day before Jesus appears. “He stands
among you already,” John says, “and you know him not.” John says he is the voice, a messenger from
God promised by Isaiah centuries before, but his voice is receding before the
One who is soon to arrive.
John is a prophet and prophets sense these
things even before they know them clearly.
In his words to the crowd, John stresses repeatedly what he not: not a
wonderworker like Elijah, not the herald of the end of time. He is a voice and only a voice, pointing away
from himself, and before the One who is before Him, his words “slip, slide, and
perish.”
John can declare and condemn and exhort. He can show Israel its sin but that is all he
can do. Two days hence he will point the
Promised One, “behold the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the
world.” John points out the barrier
between God and us and Jesus removes it.
John tells us we are dead in our transgressions and Jesus brings life to
the dead. John tells us we must change,
and Jesus works within us by His Spirit, making all things new. We need more than words, and Jesus is the
Word made flesh, not just the Truth, but the Way and the Life. He shows us how to live, and grants us the
power to do it.
To be sure, Jesus also commands us to use
words. Jesus commands his ministers
speak in His name, “I baptize you in the Name of the Father, and of the Son,
and of the Holy Spirit,” “your sins are forgiven,” “this is my body.” When we speak these words, He is with us to
bring to life what they signify.
He places His Gospel, the great message of what
He has done, in the hands of all his disciples.
He will be with us, He assures us, whenever we share it.[2] His Gospel is a word that encourages the
steadfast and breaks the power of sin and brings hope to those who suffer. It is powerful and active, because when it is
spoken, Jesus comes and makes his home in the hearts of those who hear it.[3]
It seems to me that the word of the Gospel has
the power to change things that all those other words cannot.
Jesus, after all, did have a message about the
gift of sexuality, teaching that it belongs within marriage where it joys may
strengthen the loving life of the family, and He gives grace to millions of His
followers to live accordingly. He is the
One who breaks down the dividing wall between peoples of all races, so that we
may feast as brothers and sisters at one table in the kingdom, and in the church’s
universal spread we see a foretaste of this.
I wouldn’t presume to enlist Jesus’ endorsement for any particular form
of human government. But I do pray that
He who is the King of the kings of the earth would grant, as the Prayer Book’s Collect
for our Country says, “that there may be justice and peace at home, and that,
through obedience to thy law, we may show forth thy praise among the nations of
the earth.[4]”
I am grateful for honest, courageous and
truthful words, no matter who may speak them.
I rejoice in the small things done by ordinary people, acts of
generosity and goodwill that make a difference.
But I put my ultimate trust in the only One who can bring true renewal
to the human heart, the Word who spoke at the beginning and will announce the
final day. He is here, and before Him, all other words pass away.
[1] Schmitz, Matthew. “Neuhaus was Right.” First Things. 16 Dec. 2017. https://www.firstthings.com/article/2018/01/neuhaus-was-right,
c.f. Mounk, Yasha and Robert Stefan Foa, “Yes People are Really Turning
Away From Democracy.” The Washington Post. 8 Dec. 2017.
https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/wonk/wp/2016/12/08/yes-millennials-really-are-surprisingly-approving-of-dictators/?utm_term=.80ecb88a91f0
[2] Matthew 28:20
[4] Book
of Common Prayer (1979), 820.
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