Matthew 11: 11 Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.
Last week I wrote about John learning to be in the present moment in the desert – a spiritually romantic idea until you try it. How hard it is to be in the moment when most of your present moments are far from gratifying. But in this season of Advent, a time when we are called to repentance or to turning around and opening ourselves to being changed, we need to understand that it is in the present moment that we need to stop, pay attention, ponder and be open to what is right in front of us. The present moment can redirect us, change us, simplify us and teach us the mystery of the kind of quiet joy an unrecognized newborn infant in a manger can offer. It is in the present moment that we are called to discover how rejoicing is a strong perspective and a persevering attitude, not necessarily a reaction and not necessarily an emotion. Being a person of rejoicing doesn’t mean we are never sad, overwhelmed, frustrated, afraid or grieving. It means that after honestly experiencing the emotions that assail us, there is a determined turning to Truth, the truth that our God comes, every moment of every day. This is repentance: turning from self-focus and self effort to watch for and anticipate the coming salvation of God.
This is Gaudete Sunday. The entrance antiphon says, “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice! The Lord is near.” Elsewhere in scripture the psalmist says, “This is the day that the Lord has made, we will rejoice and be glad in it.” This is the day…not tomorrow, not yesterday but today. This day, this moment is when you should be watching because the Lord is near. Keep in mind that when these scriptures were written they weren’t referring to the four weeks before Christmas. In the antiphon, Paul was exhorting the Christians to always rejoice because every day is the day of the Lord and the Lord isn’t just near, he is here!
Even in the desert? Yes, even in the desert. Isaiah prophesies, “The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom … Strengthen the weak hands and make firm the feeble knees. Say to those who are of a fearful heart, 'Here is your God.'”
Notice that he didn’t say gladness, rejoicing and blossoming would happen once one is out of the desert. The desert itself was the place that would be transformed in Isaiah’s prophecy. So, scrambling to get out of the desert may cause you to miss metanoia: transformation and change, going beyond your limited mind. Stay awhile. Pay attention. Repent. Rejoice.
I have said before that we are all called to be consecrated members of the Royal Priesthood. Here’s something else we are all called to be: prophets. Prophets don’t necessarily foretell anything; they are simply those who speak God’s word as God gives it to them to speak. And it is in the desert wilderness that you will learn about the God who desires to speak through you. Are you unsure that you could possibly be called to be a prophet? In the Gospel this week, Jesus says, “Truly I tell you, among those born of women, no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least of the Kingdom of heaven is greater than he.”
John was the last prophet of the Old Testament and Christ’s death on the cross ushered in a new age and a new covenant. Jesus was saying that in the new order of things, in the Kingdom of Heaven, every one of us is called to be a prophet and, because we have received the baptism of Christ and the blood of Christ has redeemed us, we have a greater ministry than John the Baptist. This is not pointed out to us so that we can feel smug; it is so that we will begin to get an inkling of the powerful mystery we have been called to participate in. This is not tame stuff. This is real and I’m not sure we have any idea what kind of a spiritual life is open to us if we could only accept the truth of who we really are.
We are called to be messengers and prophets to a dry and barren world. But first, we need to experience the wonder of prophesying to our own deserts and wildernesses. How? By strengthening the weak hands and making firm the feeble knees and saying to ourselves within that wilderness, “Be strong. Do not fear. Here is your God.” This is the prayer of the present moment. “Be strong. Do not fear. My God is here.” It doesn’t matter if you can’t see him and can’t feel him yet. Metanoia means going beyond the world-based mind and into the things of the Kingdom. This is prophecy; this is the word of God, which is not a feeling, an emotional response or an intellectual conclusion. It is truth. Prophesy to your wilderness. Prophesy often. Eventually you will sense a creeping gladness and eventually you will witness the first of many tiny blossoms opening up. One must persevere and be very still and patient to actually see a flower blossom but once witnessed, it is never forgotten.
On this Third Sunday of Advent and always: Rejoice! Prophesy with joy and singing; prophesy to your wilderness and announce to it that the day of the Lord is here. Proclaim to your land, “Sing and rejoice O Daughter of Zion for, behold, he comes!”
An interesting side note:
When we began to renovate our home, kneeling and bending irritated an old knee injury I had so that stairs were difficult and fast walking not a great idea.
“Make firm the feeble knees…”
You all know that I had a period of time when my arm and hand muscles were in pain and I had to miss writing one blog and had to write a few more only using my left hand.
“Strengthen the weak hands.”
This past week while helping my daughter out after the birth of her second son, I caught a flu that immediately congested my right ear. My left ear has been deaf since birth so I am presently deaf to all but the loudest of sounds and can only hear voices with great difficulty and much lip reading.
“…the ears of the deaf shall be unstopped.”
Easy conversation is not possible. Email is my preferred way of communicating anyway but being deaf made even phoning to let people know what was happening with me was impossible. Then yesterday for a full day, our Internet crashed and I couldn’t even communicate with people by email.
“…and the tongue of the mute shall sing for joy.”
I have been prophesying to my wilderness. My God is coming. My God is here. I will watch and wait. I will endeavor to be open to metanoia and to go beyond what my mind sees. In spite of my inner groans and my occasional tears of frustration, I feel there is something truly significant and wondrous about to happen.
It may be a single blossom in the desert, delicate like a newborn child. And it will be enough.
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