Don Friesen
Into this, the darkest season of our northern winter, comes the voice of the
prophet Isaiah, with talk of "wilderness," "dry land," "desert," "weak hands," and "feeble knees," not to mention those who are "blind," "deaf," "lame," and "speechless" (35:5-6). In his ruminations on the desert, Isaiah describes it as "burning sand," "thirsty ground," and the "haunt of jackals," lions, and ravenous
beasts! (35:7, 9) Even though I can count at least 3« of the disabilities as my own, and so I feel included, our Old Testament passage is not exactly a picker-upper!
Meanwhile, in our New Testament passage, John the Baptist--a man quite familiar with the rigours of the wilderness--sits in a dark and damp prison cell--more likely a dungeon--nursing doubts about Jesus' ability to issue in the kingdom of God that he himself announced with great drama! And so John sends some of his people over to Jesus to ask, quite bluntly, "Are you the one? Or not?" "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?" (Matthew 11:3) I sense some impatience on John's part, but then Herod's executioners will soon come to remove John's head from his shoulders, so he's entitled to a few doubts.
John was very conscious of the need for a Messiah. He was living in dark times, his people living under Roman occupation, victims of corruption and injustice. People came out to the wilderness hear John's preaching because they were parched for a word of hope and eager to hear of any signs of retribution. John's harsh words of repentance echoed their own thoughts about both Rome and the local powers-that-be.
When John the Baptist came on the scene, he announced, with dramatic flair, that someone was coming who would bring fiery judgement upon them. A pitchfork in one hand and an axe in the other (Matthew 3:10, 12), this messianic figure would set things right! Small wonder that John entertained doubts about his cousin. John fancied himself the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke, "The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: 'Prepare the way of the Lord....'" (Matthew 3:3) Prepared to construct a grand messianic highway, John was expecting a giant earthmover, but instead, in his estimation, got one of those little landscaping tractorettes! John was expecting fire and judgement, but instead got healing and compassion. It's a little like the woman who was searching for the perfect birthday card for her husband, and found one that looked promising, for on the outside it read: "Sweetheart, you're the answer to my prayers." On the
inside, however, it read, "You're not exactly what I prayed for, but apparently you're the answer."
A Stunning Transformation!
I wasn't really fair to the prophet Isaiah earlier, when I gleaned all of those negative images from chapter 35, though Isaiah too was living in dark times, and those dark images evoked in his people memories of slavery, captivity, forced exiles--the whole dark sweep of Israel's history. However, it is out of such
darkness that Isaiah is often his most eloquent and compelling. This darkness has an expiry date on it, says Isaiah. This darkness is going to turn to light! This bleak wilderness will undergo a stunning transformation! "The wilderness and the
dry land shall be glad," says Isaiah (35:1) "The desert shall rejoice and blossom; ...it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing. The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it, the majesty of Carmel and Sharon. They shall see the glory of the Lord, the majesty of our God." (35:1-2) "...waters shall break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert; the burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water...." (35:6-7) "And the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with singing; everlasting joy shall be upon
their heads; ...joy and gladness...." (35:10)
It's a stunning transformation! There'll be no more sorrow! (35:10) No more sighing! (35:10) No more fear! (35:4) No more weak hands or feeble knees! (35:3) No more disabilities of any kind! (35:5-6)
Isaiah 35 begins with the wilderness and its diminished life (35:1), and is addressed to those who live there in their diminished state (35:5-6); it speaks to those to whom the metaphors of wilderness and desert, burning sand and thirsty
ground (35:6-7) are more than literary images. Isaiah evokes for us a picture of deadly drought and of a humanity crushed, oppressed, disabled, filled with despair, and sapped of vitality. It is this deathly context that makes Isaiah's promise so vivid, conveying the promise that into any context, however deathly, disabled, twisted, or crushed, God can move in and enliven what was without life. An amazing transformation!
The Fecundity Of The Darkness
I sense, however, that there is something deeper here than transformation in the sense of change from one state to another, the two states simply being in vivid contrast. When I started as a youth minister at Bethel Mennonite Church in Winnipeg many years ago, someone sent me to a conference on "The Theology
of Christian Initiation". I'm not sure why I was sent, but I went, despite the fact that the theological questions in focus were primarily questions of importance to traditions who baptize infants. I'm also not sure how much I got out of the conference, but I certainly remember a phrase used by a colourful Russian
orthodox priest, a phrase concerning the "fecundity of the darkness". Always a sucker for new words, especially fancy ones, it stuck in my memory. I also liked the concept because of its apparent contradiction. The word, "fecundity," means
"the state of being fertile; capable of producing offspring". Figuratively, it represents the "intellectual fruitfulness of a creative imagination". Normally we don't associate growth with darkness. We all know that plants need light, and thrive under the right light.
It's an odd phrase, but it implies more than two "before-and-after" pictures, with little connection between the two. Used figuratively, it implies that the dark experiences of our lives are not only dark and dismal--they are also times when our powers of reflection and meditation are driven to a deeper level. These dark experiences can be unsettling, but they can also be creative moments, when seductive illusions are seen for what they are, are cast aside, and new commitments, new patterns of living are born out of this intellectual and spiritual ferment. Out of ugliness can come beauty; out of darkness, light; out of confusion, clarity; out of evil, redemption. I don't believe it accidental that in biblical lore the wilderness is often associated with redemption and hope. The route to the Promised Land led through the wilderness.
Redemption Cannot Be Forced
No doubt we would prefer abrupt changes in some circumstances without having to go through the bad stuff. And perhaps Jesus was well aware of this preference when he answered John's emissaries, not with a simple "yes" or "no," but with a more enigmatic reply. Jesus told them, "Go and tell John what you hear and see:
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." (Matthew 11:4-5) Jesus' reply has all of the requisite prophetic signs (Isaiah 35:5-6), but it may not have been the answer John was hoping to hear. It is as if Jesus
were saying, "Yes, I am the Messiah, but you must understand what that means. If you are looking for one who cares for the poor and downtrodden, the abused and broken, the homeless and helpless and hopeless; if you are looking for one who brings peace and joy and hope, the good news of God's love and saving grace, then look no further. But if you are looking for some other kind of messiah,
I am not the one you're after." "Blessed is the one who does not find me a stumbling-block," said Jesus. (11:6, NIV and NEB)
Jesus was not the conquering military hero that many expected. He did not have a pitchfork in one hand and an axe in the other! Some lost patience with Jesus because he didn't lead them in violent revolution against their political enemies. Many found Jesus to be a stumbling block, and many still do. Many
want a child's kind of saviour--a parent who will make things "all better" without effort on their part. Jesus' answer is different. It's slower; its results take time and work, requiring the patience James talks about--the patience of a Saskatchewan
farmer (James 5:7-8). No farmer in his or her right mind pulls up plants in mid-growing season to see how the roots are doing. The way of love and compassion, renewal and restoration, requires patience. It cannot, by definition, be forced!
A man who came upon a number of cocoons from which moths were emerging picked up one of them, and saw the moth moving. Noticing that his warm breath upon the cocoon accelerated the emergence of the moth, he continued to blow gently upon the cocoon. The membrane quickly opened, the struggling moth came forth, but not in the way that the man expected. The creature's wings only partially unfolded, and it struggled helplessly. The man learned that it was foolish to forcefully take in hand matters which best wait upon subtle and hidden powers beyond the powers of one's own will.
Handel's Glorious "Messiah" Was Borne Out Of Darkness
The miracle of Christmas is to see the power of God in circumstances of utter power-less-ness, to see the glory of God in the most inglorious of circumstances. Isaiah's people had been defeated and carried off into slavery in a foreign land and yet he could look past the pain of exile and separation and say, with hope, "They shall see the glory of the Lord, the majesty of...God." (Isaiah 35:2)
George Frederic Handel (1685-1759), after writing the glorious "Hallelujah Chorus," said, "I did think I did see all heaven before me and the great God himself." The "Hallelujah Chorus" is, of course, the crown of the "Messiah," a beautiful oratorio written by Handel to depict the birth, passion and resurrection of Jesus and which is one of our most cherished Christmas traditions. George Bernard Shaw referred to it as "the hymn that can make atheists cry".
Handel composed the entire "Messiah" over a period of twenty-two days while living in Ireland, where it was first performed--in Dublin--in 1742. It appears that its fame was anticipated right from the start, for on the notice advertising its premiere was this request: "The stewards of the Charitable Musical Society request as a favour of the ladies not to come with hoops.... The gentlemen are requested to come without their swords." This, apparently, enabled the stewards to seat an additional hundred people.
Praise for Handel's work did indeed spread quickly, and the performance was repeated in London where it was received with great acclaim. Its popularity grew and the following year's production became a holiday tradition, with proceeds from performances benefiting the Foundling Hospital, an institution
serving abandoned and orphaned children.
Handel's experience in composing the "Messiah" is interesting, for several reasons, one of which is an artistic one. Nowadays any strange behaviour is lauded as creativity, but Handel exercised genuine creativity in that he called forth glorious results in very constricting circumstances. Though "Messiah" is often performed at Christmas, it first opened during the season of Lent. No operas could be performed during Lent, though oratorios could be sung, so Handel actually wrote several "operas" which managed to pass Lenten muster because they were unstaged, and it also helped that they used biblical themes. It
was a creative way to keep bread on the table during Lent, and if you've seen any pictures of Handel, you get the impression that he didn't give up bread for Lent.
Handel's experience with the "Messiah" is also interesting for a personal reason. It was written at a rather dark period in Handel's life. He was fifty-six, suffering from depression, financially bankrupt, and though once the toast of London high society, he was now referred to, in his adopted country of England, as "that German nincompoop." By 1741, he had used up the last of his friends and resources, yet it was in this very dark year that the light of the Messiah broke in upon him and had several redemptive effects. Apparently Handel was known for his ability to swear in five languages, though after writing the "Messiah" he became gentler in tongue and temper. The debut performance of Handel's "Messiah" was for the benefit of those in jails and hospitals, and from that one concert, 142 men in debtor's prison were freed. Handel had been deeply hurt by
those who had pirated his early works and performed them without his knowledge or permission, yet he asked one of the persons who had wronged him in this way to sing in the debut performance as an act of forgiveness. He also wanted those listening to his music to be changed by it; he said to someone congratulating him
on the audience's enjoyment of the "Messiah," "I should be sorry if I only entertained them. I wished to make them better."
God's greatest glory often comes out of times of darkness and despair. It's the story of Christmas, of Bethlehem: "In thy dark streets shineth the everlasting light." May God give us the grace to see in our own dark experiences glimpses of God's glory and light.
All quotations of Scripture, unless otherwise noted, are from the New Revised Standard Version.