Tuesday, December 19, 2017

Perishing Words

“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
[3] John 14:23.
[4] Book of Common Prayer (1979), 820.

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