On Crying Out in the Wilderness
Isaiah 40:3 (NRSVUE) “A voice cries out: ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord; make straight in the desert a highway for our God…’”
That familiar verse has been on my mind today. Immortalized
in George Frederick Handel’s Oratorio, “Messiah,” it’s from the prologue to what
is known as “Deutero (Second) Isaiah” (chapters 40-55). It came from the school
of Isaiah’s disciples, dating around the end of Babylonian exile. Its mood is
both encouraging and empty. Encouraging because it lifts up a hope for a coming
of God and calls for preparation. Empty because the announcement is made in the
wilderness.
What image comes to mind as you read about a voice crying
out in the wilderness? I see a lone figure standing in some barren landscape,
all alone, crying out some important message, and I’m reminded of the
philosophical discussion starter, “If a tree falls in the wilderness and no one
is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”
I’m drawn, not to the rhetorical question but to the setup
phrase, “…and no one is around to hear it…” And the images come flooding in: John
Adams’ line in the Broadway musical, “1776”: “Is anybody there? Does anybody
care?” The recently revived (and revised) Simon and Garfunkel song, “The Sound
of Silence,” and others.
Today’s blog by John
Pavlovitz opens,
“If your eyes are clear and open right now
you can see it: this is a pivot point for us, America.
“It is the place we collectively turn back
toward our best selves or slide into the abyss of the very worst of who we are
capable of being. In real time, we are crafting our collective legacy and the
world is watching to see who we will be. Our children are too, along with a
vast multitude we will never know, who will inherit the nation we will leave
them.
“When history replays these days, they will
tell the story of this country as either the time decent, empathetic people
crossed lines of political party, faith tradition, and surface differences and
stood together to push back a rising tide of fascism—or the days we all stopped
giving a damn and fully consented to the darkness for good. These will be
marked as the moments we collectively succumbed to a million small assaults on
decency—or when we decided to stop the bleeding once and for all.”[1]
Now, here’s the thing: if you don’t know John Pavlovitz’
socio/political or religious perspective, you likely will immediately identify
and agree with his statement, regardless of your own persuasion. Where
Pavlovitz is unknown, the reader likely will assume the comments are about his
or her position.
BUT, if you already know that Pavlovitz’ view is solidly to
the left of center, and you’re on the right, I’m guessing that you were
prepared to disagree before you read a word (if, indeed, you were even willing
to read it—or to keep reading this!). And if you went in not knowing where he
stands and later discovered he’s “a liberal” (gasp!), you might even change
your mind, not because of what he said (and with which you originally agreed),
but because of the label, “liberal.”
One reason I make those bold statements is that I identify!
I tend to have the same reaction to anything written or stated by Tucker
Carlson. I have to work really hard to listen openly and try to understand the
angst and the… OK, maybe Tucker Carlson isn’t a good one to exemplify my point
because I not only disagree with virtually everything he says or writes, but I
also don’t trust his integrity any further than I can throw my pickup truck! I
believe he will say whatever pads his approval ratings—and his wallet.
See what I mean? I’m as solidly entrenched in my ideology
as anyone from the opposite end of the socio/religious/political spectrum! Although
my sampling for comparison will not bear statistical analysis, the difference
may be that I acknowledge my tunnel vision and, having recognized it, make some
attempt to overcome it.
I don’t believe any one of us is complete or has complete
knowledge. About anything.
Nor do I believe any of us is unsalvageable or beyond hope.
What I believe is that we need each other. Liberals need
their ideology tempered by some conservatism, and vice-versa.
What I hope is that someday all of us will make a more
concerted effort, if not to agree, at least (1) to understand and (2) to work
with each other to find some common ground from which to make a positive impact
on the American ideal of “liberty and justice for all.”
But without understanding, and without some platform for
cooperation and interdependence, we all are voices “crying out in the
wilderness” not knowing if anybody is there; if anybody cares. So, our words,
“like silent raindrops fell and echoed in a well of silence.”
On the other hand, I find encouragement in the words of
Paul and Barnabas shared with the people of Lystra: “God has not left himself without
witness…” (Acts 14:17)
When Jesus entered Jerusalem on the Sunday before he was
crucified, he was welcomed by a noisy throng shouting revolutionary stuff,
which put the Temple authorities on alert, and they sent a delegation to order
Jesus to quiet his followers. Jesus responded, “I tell you, if these were silent,
the stones would shout out.” (Luke 19:40)
Well, I don’t want the rocks to shout out in my place. Even
if it feels like “crying out in the wilderness,” I will continue to bear
witness to what I understand as the truth, acknowledging that my knowledge is
partial—I “see as
if through a flawed pane of glass” (I Corinthians 13:12 Jim Robinson translation).
But here’s the other
thing: What if we are called to be the wilderness some of the time. To be listeners?
I know. In our
culture it’s all about winning; it’s all about control; and we’d have to
surrender some part of our illusion of control in order to listen. And by
listening I’m not referring only to hearing. I mean to listen! Really. Listen!
How can we
understand if we don’t listen, and again, the issue is understanding, not
necessarily agreeing! But might understanding be an initial stage in agreeing? How can we find common ground if don’t listen? We might
even discover that we don’t really disagree as much as we assumed.
But who knows? So far as I can tell, that’s never been
tried, and we continue to be voices in the wilderness.
That’s the way it looks through the Flawed Glass that is my
world view.
Together in the Walk,
Jim
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