‘…And blessed is anyone who takes no offence
at me....’ (Matthew 11:6)
Matthew
11:2-11 (Year A: Advent 3 Sunday 11th
December 2016)
On this the third Sunday of Advent we are moving closer to that great feast of the Saviour’s birthday. However, the warnings and unedited declarations of John the Baptist gave way to a new phase in our history of salvation. Now, the focus turns towards the cousin of John. In terms of the Gospel story we skip forward from John at the river Jordan preaching, warning, baptising and clearing the way for someone who is to come to John who is in prison awaiting trial and, presumably, execution.
There is no evidence, on this occasion, that Jesus organised
a protest or a petition to have his cousin released. News of what was happening
outside the prison got through to John.
He had his networks and supporters and, so, he sent messengers to check
out who Jesus really was and what his goal was.
John surely knew Jesus to some considerable degree. After all, their
mothers were closely bonded from at least the time of their pregnancies. John had even leapt in his mother’s womb when
Mary, carrying Jesus, greeted John’s mother, Elizabeth. As they grew up (and they were, of course, of
the same age) did John wonder who this cousin, Jesus, really was? At the end of Jesus’ life (the last 10% of
his total life span, we might say) something extraordinary started to emerge in
Galilee where Jesus commenced his ministry. Down south in Judea a whole ‘movement’
had been generated around John the Baptist. The two ‘movements’ were about to
be joined up. Something new was about to happen.
In his reply to John, Jesus spells out what is happening in
verse 5:
- 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
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.
When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he
sent word by his disciples.
The Gospel of Matthew places a strong emphasis on the
Messiah (or the Christ). This emphasis
would not have been lost on his Jewish audience since the transition from a
baptism with water and prophecy as with Elijah must now, decisively, give way
to a new baptism in the Spirit and a new definitive revelation of God. All of history leads to this event, this era,
this teaching, this prophecy. It was no longer just a question of Jesus the
extraordinary and ordinary cousin of John but it was a matter of Jesus Christ
the ‘he-who-saves’ (Jeshua in Aramaic)
and the Christ or Messiah (Christou
in Greek).
Who were the ‘messengers’ sent by John the Baptist? The old Greek version of Matthew 11.2 has: Pempsas dia tōn
mathētōn autou (πέμψας διὰ τῶν μαθητῶν αὐτοῦ)
or ‘Now when John had heard in the prison
the works of Christ, he sent two of his disciples’ (King James
Version). So, the original text
indicates that two were went and not just one. And these were disciples and not
just any two messengers. Although not
elaborated on we could surmise that these two witnessed together the work of
Jesus and brought this news back to John before his execution. Moreover, these two joined the band of
disciples beginning to crystallise around Jesus. In witnessing to the love of God we never
travel alone. For where two or three are gathered in his name there is the
Spirit of freedom and the spirit of God and the real sacramental presence
of Jesus the Christ.
Here lies the test for us listening to these gospels texts
year after year. When we gather in His name or when we witness, together, are the
‘blind’ given sight as a result? Do the
‘lame’ walk? Are ‘lepers’ healed? Are
the ‘dead’ raised to new life? Does our
message and the way we live set others free let alone on fire? Are the poor,
marginalised and oppressed set free? Does it make any difference? Who are the
‘blind’, the ‘lame’, the ‘deaf’, the ‘dead’ anyway? Could we be counted among
these already?
Sometimes, church-going folk worry and fret a lot over the
decline in ‘religious practice’.
Particular concern is expressed about the free-fall in ‘vocations’ (at
least in the post-modern, post-truth, post-industrial, post-Christian,
post-anything world). Particular
concerns are also expressed about the sharply ageing profile of church
congregations in many places and denominations (some more than others). What’s
going on? The answers, just like the
reasons, are complex and many faceted.
Various zealous returns to ‘orthodoxy’, ‘discipline’,
‘evangelisation/catechisation’ and a host of local innovations do not seem be
able to turn the tide let alone arrest it.
Religion is dead and countries like Ireland are just aligning with this
new post-faith world, so it is claimed by many among the de-churched or the
non-churched. Is ‘religion’ really dead in this part of the world? And what is
‘religion’ anyway? Might it be helpful
to raise two questions at this stage of what might seem like terminal decline in the fortunes of many
mainstream Christian Churches in Ireland (and I am sure the same could be
applied elsewhere):
- Does Christianity need to be rediscovered and re-presented in today’s world as an invitation to relationship, meaning, trust and growth? (people have not given up searching for ways of life).
- Would a truly radical and heart-full return to Orthopraxis release a wave of energy and life that would be so credible, authentic, attractive and new that many are drawn in?
As Pope Francis
tweeted so elegantly the other day:
We are all called to go out as missionaries and bring the message of God’s love to every person in every area of life.
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